Page 13 of Perfectly Complicated
I dive across my desk for my bag, barely snagging it before Lily reaches it.
“Ms. Bennett, why is your face red?” Jack asks.
“Yeah, why is Ms. Bennett’s face so red?” Rourke’s grin widens. “Almost as red as those toes.”
“No reason.” I shake my head and toss my bag under my desk.
I clear my throat, trying to get this rehearsal under control since it’s clearly gone off the rails. “Okay, everyone. Let’s all grab a script from the table and start auditions.”
The kids head to the circle of chairs as I look for an adult-sized chair for Rourke. When I turn around, I have to bite back a laugh. Rourke is sitting on one of the tiny chairs the kids use, looking ridiculously oversized, like Buddy the Elf.
I take a seat opposite of him. “Let’s talk about our Christmas pageant auditions.”
Rourke looks at the script, then back at me, frowning. “Who wrote this?”
“The director who retired last year.”
He thumbs through it. “This script is terrible.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“It’s awful. I mean, who would put an elf in Bethlehem? This makes no sense.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense,” I say, my irritation growing. “It’s just a cute Christmas play. All the parents love the tradition, even if the historical accuracy is wrong.”
“Wrong? It’s horrendous,” Rourke continues, oblivious to my death stare. “You’re mixing fiction with history. Bethlehem and Santa. Elves and shepherds. Real kids don’t talk like this: ‘Oh, Mother, that is perfectly wonderful news’? No six-year-old has ever said that sentence.”
I wave my hand in the air. “They’re playing adult roles. It’s fine.”
“And my part as Santa? He’s painfully cliché. If you’re going to force me to play a jolly man who people only see once a year, at least make him funny or, I don’t know, endearing? Not this cardboard cutout who only saysho-ho-hothe entire time.”
“But that’s what Santa says,” I argue. “And also because our last Santa couldn’t remember his lines.”
“Well, maybe your last Santa should’ve retired. Because this script makes me hate Christmas even more than I already do.”
“YouhateChristmas?” Lily’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “I thought that was illegal.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s going to the principal’s office for saying that,” Jack says matter-of-factly.
“Or maybe jail!” Emmalynn adds.
“I think we need to take a step back,” I say, trying desperately to regain control of the situation.
But Rourke’s already got his own agenda, rising from the tiny chair like he’s on his personal anti-Christmas soapbox.
“You know what I think?” Rourke says. “Christmas is a stupid holiday filled with blatant consumerism and Santa stories that aren’t even real.”
All the kids gasp as if Rourke just let out a string of swear words.
Emmalynn’s lip trembles slightly. “What do you mean…Santa’s not real?”
“ENOUGH.” I stand up so fast, my chairnearly tips over. Every child in the room turns to stare at me, their wide eyes shocked at my outburst.
I stare at Rourke. “Do you have ANY idea what you just did?” I say, keeping my voice low enough that the kids can’t hear. “I’m going to have a bunch of angry parents calling me tonight because YOU couldn’t keep your grinchy opinions to yourself for ONE rehearsal.”
He opens his mouth, but I’m not done.
“You know what?” I get in his face now. “You’re right about one thing. You CAN do better. So prove it.” I shove the script at him. “You have exactly one week to rewrite this script into something better. And if you can’t? Well, then you’re stuck saying a bunch of lame ho-ho-hos.”
