Page 15 of Perfectly Complicated
“Pretty much,” he adds. “But there’s also this competition for a Christmas bonus. The winner gets extra money. And the charity gets a matching donation.”
Now I’m listening. “How much of a donation?”
“Twenty grand.”
My mouth drops. “As intwenty thousand dollars?”
He nods.
That would fund our arts program for two years. “So why did you want me to fire you?”
“I thought maybe if I could get out of it withoutofficiallyquitting, then I could find a different volunteer job here at the school. Something that doesn’t involve Christmas.” He sighs. “Look, I know how this sounds, but?—”
“It sounds like you’re someone who doesn’t want to be here,” I say bluntly.
His jaw tightens. “You’re right. I don’t want to be here. But I’m stuck, and so are you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you need a Santa, and I’m the only one left to volunteer this close to Christmas.” He steps closer, and I catch his woodsy scent that reminds me of the night we danced together—something that I’d rather forget right now. “If I leave, you’re back to square one. No Santa. Only disappointed kids and angry parents.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Really? In one month? During the busiesttime of year?” He raises an eyebrow. “Come on, Janie. We both know you don’t have other options.”
I want to argue, but he’s absolutely right. Finding another Santa now would be nearly impossible.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” he continues. “I’ll stay and follow your direction while trying not to traumatize any more kids. On one condition…”
“You’re in no position to make demands.”
“Aren’t I?” His cocky smile returns as he leans against the doorframe. “Because the way I see it, you need me more than I need you. I can walk away now and find another volunteer gig for a different teacher. But you? You’re stuck explaining to an entire schoolandthe community why there’s no Christmas pageant this year.”
I step back and sink onto a box of toilet paper. I hate that he’s right. “What do you want, then?”
“First, I get to rewrite parts of the script to make the kids sound like kids. And we don’t mix up history with fiction.”
I tilt my head and consider this. The script really is awful. “Fine. We can work on it together, but I approve all changes.”
“Fair enough,” he says with a nod.
“I don’t get it—this seems way too charitable. How do I know you won’t ruin the pageant on purpose?”
“Well, if I’m stuck playing a character who’s supposed to love Christmas, and you’re stuck working with me, then you need to change my mind.”
My eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“You need to convince me to see Christmas the way you do. If you succeed, I’ll give you the best performance this town has ever witnessed.”
“And if I fail?” I ask.
He steps closer, his mouth lifting at the corner. “You’ll go out with me.”
I scoff. “That’s never happening.”
“Why? Becauseyou won’t fail or because you won’t date me?”
“Both.” I jut my chin out. “I don’t date. Period. Especially not hockey players.”
