Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
CLARA
I was too jittery to go to bed. After Silas dropped me off, I showered and got dressed in my Santa-falling-down-a-chimney pajamas and got started making hot potato casserole—a Gran tradition after ice skating.
With a full stomach and the softest pajamas known to man, I should have felt ready to snuggle up on the couch under my this is my Hallmark watching blanket blanket, and fall asleep to A Christmas Story, but no matter how hard I tried, I had too much energy.
Maybe it was just adrenaline from ice skating. Or maybe it was the anticipation for the new week of teaching. And maybe—this was probably the most likely—something had shifted between Silas and me.
I’d gone from thinking he loathed my guts to thinking he only mildly hated my guts. That was progress.
In desperate need of a distraction from these ridiculous thoughts, I decided the best course of action was to pour my energy into decorating Isabelle’s tree with ornaments.
I took my time picking the perfect ones from the box I’d saved and only hung the most valuable ones on the branches. The ones that I cherished.
After I finished decorating, I took a step back. The tree was perfect, but there was something wrong. It didn’t look right. I tipped my head to the side. Maybe if I looked at it from a different angle, I’d figure out what wasn’t working.
“It’s Santa,” I said as I stepped forward and grabbed the three-foot Santa figurine I’d placed next to the window the other day. I moved him to the other side of the room and then turned to see if that solved the issue.
Something was still wrong.
I gathered the five Christmas gift boxes that were wrapped in plaid fabric and progressively got smaller, and I moved them over to where I’d put Santa.
The three-foot nutcracker was next. Then the sleigh full of pinecones.
I didn’t stop until the only thing that remained in the middle of that wall was the Christmas tree.
I stared at it, tapping my chin. Was that it? Was that the issue? I closed my eyes and a sense of calm and peace passed over me. I took in a deep breath as I opened them again. Even though this was the first time I’d ever left a wall this bare in my life, it was…perfect.
I settled down on the couch and pulled my blanket over my lap. I turned on the TV and found A Christmas Story and snuggled deeper into the cushions.
I was halfway through the movie when my phone rang. It blared “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas”—Abbie’s ringtone,
“Hey,” I said as I pressed the green talk button and brought my phone to my cheek.
“Hey, friend! Just checking in to make sure you’re still alive.”
I smiled as I leaned back against the couch again. “I’m alive.”
“How’s things going with the Grinch?”
My gaze drifted over to Silas’s house. The penguin he’d agreed to put up in his front yard was still there with the ridiculous sign that he’d added. The lights from the inside shone in the darkness. Where it once looked sad and dark, it had begun to feel homey—despite the lack of other decorations.
What was happening to me?
“He’s good. I’m good. We’re good,” I said as I pulled my attention from the window and stared at the paused movie on the screen.
“You’re good?” Abbie asked. “You’re living in a place that has outlawed Christmas, and you’re…good?”
“Well, not that. I just don’t…mind as much anymore.”
When Abbie didn’t respond right away, I realized that I’d made a mistake. She was never going to let me live this down.
“Do you have a fever? Take your temperature.”
I sighed.
“Have you been kidnapped? Hurry, what’s your favorite Christmas movie of all time?”
I drummed my fingers on my thighs as I waited for her to finish.
When there was a lull, I started to ask her if she was done yet, but she wasn’t.
She had two more sets of questions to make sure that I hadn’t joined a cult and I hadn’t lost a bet.
Once she was satisfied, she continued. “I think it’s a good thing.
You’re participating in a sort of detox. ”
I frowned. “I may not care as much that the mayor doesn’t like Christmas, but that doesn’t mean I’m finished with it.
” I decided to keep my little spinout with the decorations around the tree in the living room to myself.
No need to add fuel to Abbie’s flames. I could only imagine her reasoning as to why fewer decorations were better.
“Well, it’s a start.” Then she paused. “Maybe that’s what Grinchland can be. A place where the most Christmas crazed among us can go to rehab!”
“Okay, Abbie,” I said, knowing she couldn’t see I was rolling my eyes, but making sure that she’d understand the tone of my voice.
“My name is Clara, and I am addicted to Christmas,” she joked.
“I’m hanging up now,” I said, pulling the phone from my cheek and letting my thumb hover over the big red button.
“I love you, friend!” Abbie called out in a singsong voice.
“Love you, too, friend,” I said as I hung up.
I set my phone down next to me on the couch and stared at it, Abbie’s words repeating in my mind.
There was a truth to what she said. When I was in Winter Springs, Christmas was my life.
I lived and breathed the holiday. But here, in Grinchland, I was forced to step out of my traditions and look around.
I was forced to see things differently. I was forced to see things not through Christmas lights and decorations, but to notice the simple parts of the holiday.
I was forced to enjoy the smallest of Christmas moments.
I shook my head, feeling crazy for letting myself digest Abbie’s theories to this degree. Christmas was Christmas, and I’d always participated in the holiday just like everyone else.
I didn’t need Christmas rehab, and I certainly didn’t need to detox.
Abbie’s words still plagued my mind when I woke up the next morning, but I did my best to push them from my mind. I had a day’s worth of teaching followed by the next holiday-themed activity with Silas, so I needed to get my head on straight and focus.
I dressed and was out the door a little earlier this morning. I told myself it was because I was trying to be a better employee—getting to the school early instead of right on time—but deep down, I knew the real reason.
I just wasn’t ready to admit that reason out loud.
I was sitting at my desk as students started to filter in. I’d kept my door propped open, and I justified that decision by telling myself that it made my room look more inviting. I wanted every student to feel like my door was open both physically and emotionally.
“Hey, Mayor.”
The greeting made its way into my room, and my heart picked up speed as I moved to stand. There was no other reason I walked across my classroom and out the door—I wanted to see Silas.
He was standing in the hallway with Isabelle by his side. He was trying to get her to give him a hug, but Isabelle wasn’t having it. As soon as he saw me, he straightened, his expression soft as he met my gaze.
“Hey,” I said, my voice all hushed and shy. I inwardly cursed myself for being so transparent.
He didn’t give me a full smile. Instead, it was this half smile that took my breath away. “Hey,” he said.
I held his gaze a little longer until I started to scream at myself that if I didn’t stop staring, he was going to suspect that something was wrong with me. And even though something was most definitely wrong with me, I wanted to keep that a secret for as long as I could.
“Are there any plans for tonight?” he asked. There was a hopeful hint to his voice that threw me off.
“Um, I’m not sure.” And that was the truth. I’d spent the whole morning trying not to think about Silas, so I hadn’t allowed myself to think of activities for us to do.
He nodded. “Let me know.”
“Of course.”
“Daddy, it’s time for you to go,” Isabelle said as she reached up and grabbed her backpack, which was slung on his shoulder.
He glanced down at her and then back up at me. “This will never get easy,” he said as he allowed her to pull her backpack down and shove it into her locker.
“I bet.”
Isabelle didn’t wait for me to guide her into the room, and seconds later, it was just the two of us in the hallway. I knew I should tell him goodbye and head into the classroom, but I wanted to linger just a few moments longer.
And I allowed myself to think that Silas wanted the same.
“I’ll text you the game plan,” I hurried to say, hoping he believed I wanted to stay in the hall because of our challenge and not because I liked spending time with him—as strange as that was to admit.
“Sounds good.” He paused. “I should go.”
I nodded and motioned toward the classroom behind me. “Me, too.”
He started to turn before he glanced back over his shoulder. “See you tonight, Clara.”
My heart took off racing. This was the first time I’d heard him say my name. It was more exhilarating than I thought humanly possible.
“See you tonight, Silas,” I whispered.
He smiled at me one more time and then made his way down the hall. I didn’t mean to, but I stood there, watching him leave, until he’d turned the corner and disappeared.
I covered my face with both hands and then blew out my breath.
Whatever that had been was dangerous.
There was no way I could allow myself to fall for the Grinch of Grinchland. We were exact opposites. He was water and I was oil. He was ice and I was fire. And yet, right here, right now, none of that mattered.
Right now, all I wanted was to see him again.
* * *
Thankfully, a classroom full of wild kindergarteners kept me distracted for the rest of the day.
There must have been a full moon, because everyone was off.
Even my most even-keeled student was acting out.
I tried to keep it together, but when Isaac snapped at Heather during art class, I folded my arms and told everyone that we needed a reset because they were all acting like Scrooge.
Melanie frowned as she raised her hand. “We’re acting like a screw?” she asked.
I blinked at her question. “No, not a screw, Scrooge.” I glanced around at my students, who all had the same blank stares. “Scrooge? Ebenezer Scrooge?” That did nothing to jog their memory. They were all just staring at me like I was crazy.
“It’s from A Chr—” I stopped myself. “A Carol,” I said in an effort to redeem myself.
And then I realized what was going on. These kids had been toddlers when Christmas was banned in Grinchland. There was a reason most of them had no idea what I was talking about, and that reason was Silas.
And then the best idea ever dawned on me.
I waited until all the kids were settled with painting sunsets to slip away to my desk to construct an email. It was short and sweet, and I included every parent plus Maria—I just kept Silas out. He was going to help me.
Dear kindergarten families,
I am planning to put on a play this week with the students. We will be doing A (blank) Carol. I will be finding ways to shorten it due to the time constraints. Please help your students with their parts, and I look forward to seeing you on Thursday for opening (and closing) night.
Ms. Snow
It only took two minutes after sending out the email for Maria to knock on my door. Her eyes were wide as she met my gaze for a moment. And then she turned her attention to the kids, smiling at them as she hurried to my desk.
“What is going on?” she asked, her voice hushed but pointed.
“It’s fine,” I said.
She frowned. “I told you not to involve the school. Silas is serious when it comes to Christmas.”
“That’s why I’m calling it A Carol. I think the story can stand on its own without mentioning Christmas.”
Maria’s eyes just got wider.
I sighed. “I mentioned Scrooge to the kids, and no one knew what I was talking about.” I held up my hands. “Where I come from that is borderline criminal.”
“But, Clara—”
“I have immunity.” I folded my arms and met her gaze head-on.
She drew her eyebrows together. “You have what?”
“Immunity.” I narrowed my eyes. “For about four more days. It’s a deal I made with the mayor.” I gave her a smile. “So don’t worry, everything will be fine.”
Her lips pursed and her nostrils flared, but I could tell that there was a part of her that was interested in seeing how this was all going to play out. When she sighed, I celebrated.
“You tell Silas that this was not my idea and that I tried to stop you, okay?”
I raised my right hand at a ninety-degree angle. “Will do.”
She studied me for a moment longer before she sighed again and shook her head. “It’s your funeral.”
There was a part of me that wished she left the classroom on a more positive note. A “break a leg” would have been nice, but she just shook her head once more before heading out of the room.
Now alone, I glanced around before I picked up my phone and shot a quick text to Silas. He was going to be my little elf.
Meet me at the elementary gymnasium tonight. I have a plan.