Page 27 of Kiss the Girl
His smile reappeared. “That’s the first good news I’ve heard since I got the gig.”
It was such a cute smile. He would be so easy to flirt with, drawing that smile out again and again. But after my dad’s news yesterday, I now had an exit date: January 2. And that left no time for a romance with Noah.
I took another casual step away from him, like I needed to physically find the friend zone. I wasn’t sure where it was, but at a minimum, it was two arm’s length away from Noah. “I’ll do my best to help, but the ASB needs to come up with a theme first.”
“The football team is sponsoring it. ASB doesn’t want to do it, so now it’s ours, and we get to keep the proceeds.”
Great. That meant we wouldn’t even have the Type-A neurotic class officers who would work their fingers to the bone rather than turn out anything less than perfect for the booth.
“Most of those boys know how to swing a hammer, so that’s good.” It was the only encouragement I could offer at the moment.
“That’s what I was thinking,” he said. “I promise I won’t make you do all the work, but I was hoping you could help me understand the Christmas Town experience.”
“You saw it last year, right?”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t come into Creekville over Christmas break. No reason to when I’m not at work.”
“Oh, boy.” I glanced at my watch. “Gary? I’m going to take my lunch now. Can you handle the store?”
“Sure thing, Gracie,” he said, emerging from the plumbing aisle with a U-joint.
“Come on,” I said. “We’ll go to the office and you can have the other half of my turkey sandwich. I can’t be off the floor long on a Saturday, but you definitely need to understand Christmas Town.”
He followed me back to the small office. There was only one office chair, but I pulled in a low step ladder. “Get comfy,” I said, pulling my sandwich from the mini-fridge. I handed him half, but he waved it away. “Eat it or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
He took the sandwich.
“So Christmas Town has been happening for almost thirty years. Glynnis Hunsaker threw the first one, and she’s run it every year since. It starts with a parade.”
“In Creekville? Is it…small?”
I nodded. “Yes. Probably as many people in it as watching it, but you’d think it was the Rose Parade from the way the crowd goes nuts. You’ve got the fire truck and the sheriff, the cheer squad, the Cub Scouts, Miss Leslie’s Tap Ladies, the Girl Scouts, a half-dozen other groups, and then, of course, Santa.”
“Of course,” he said, like it was no big deal.
“No,” I said, leaning forward and gripping his knees. He had nice quads—a thing I noticed against my will, but they were right there at my fingertips, so yeah. He stopped with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Santa. You cannot imagine the scale of the production. The parade starts at the end of Main, then goes up to the corner of Main and Fir. Then it stops, and the marching band comes, and behind them, Santa on a sleigh pulled by actualreindeer.”
His eyes got big. I nodded. “Now you’re getting the scope of this thing. When the marching band catches up to the rest of the parade, they all part, each group moving to their assigned side of the street, while the marching band passes through, escorting Santa into Christmas Town. Then the rest of the parade falls in behind them, and then”—I poked his knee to make sure he was paying attention—“the rest of the town falls in behind them and we all go to Christmas Town.”
“Whoa,” he breathed. “And you haven’t gotten to the Christmas Town part.”
“I know,” I said, sitting back. “But you have to understand that the whole production is insane. Or at least, it feels that way when you’re an adult getting ready for it. But when I was a kid, it really did feel like magic. And that’s why everyone does it.”
“So my job is the booth. What does that involve?”
“The Main Street square becomes Christmas Town. Did either of your grandmas have one of those ceramic Christmas villages they put out every year?”
“My Aunt Peggy did.”
“It’s that come to life. Except…more eclectic. You might see a Whoville booth next to something Moroccan themed in a vague salute to the Three Wise Men. The booth part itself is simple. It’s a basic wooden frame, and that part is half built already. Ask the school custodian where to find it. It’s the façade and costumes you have to worry about.”
“Costumes?” A fleeting look of panic crossed his face. Good. It was sinking in.
“Yes. The booth is organized around a theme approved by Glynnis. She’ll want to see design concepts for the façade and the costumes to approve your aesthetic. It should be an ‘immersive’ experience.” I gave him air quotes for Glynnis’s favorite word.
“Okay. Get Bruce the Custodian to take me to the booth. Come up with a theme for the booth and costumes. Give them to Glynnis.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to worry about taking them to Glynnis.Shefindsyou. That’s a whole experience in itself.”
