Chapter 2
Chapter two
Patrick
"Okay, first, a gift for the whole team," Eleanor enthused. Her eyes gleamed like she was about to award us the Nobel Prize. Then again, Eleanor got excited about everything.
She reached into a paper bag at the side of her chair and whipped out something in a frame. "Ta-da!"
It was an article from PC Gamer. And the picture at the top was from Veilborn.
"Our first review!" Sam clapped his hands excitedly.
"Preview," said Eleanor. "And you don't know the wheels I had to grease to get this puppy published. Pass it around, pass it around!"
The framed article went from hand to hand.
"My Oma used to say: Only fools wish on stars. The wise whisper to wood!" Eleanor said.
"You're not the only one who whispers to wood," Raphael muttered, giving me a dirty look.
Heat crept into my face—equal parts anger and embarrassment, which just made me angrier. "Eat m—" I began. But Eleanor hopped up.
"Sommme cake!" she exclaimed. "I already cut it up. Patrick, here's yours."
The piece of cake on a white paper plate looked like something the Grinch had vomited up on his deathbed. The cake was blood red and the olive green and pale-yellow icing was smeared. "Thanks."
"Traya? Lloyd? Sam? Come on, don't be shy."
I ate the cake, though I was pretty sure red dye was supposed to be toxic. Maybe the entire team would be dead by Christmas morning. It would be one of those mysteries that was never solved, like the Roanoke community.
"And now—Secret Santa! Hang on." Eleanor went to her desk and ducked underneath. She came up wearing a red fuzzy Santa hat and carrying a red fuzzy Santa sack. "Ho ho ho! Is everyone ready?"
I checked my watch. Geez, was being alone for Christmas not punishment enough?
"First up—Traya!" Eleanor handed over a present wrapped neatly in newspaper and tied with a red ribbon.
"Great," Traya gave a fake smile. She opened it and held up a box of colored pencils. Her face lit up. "Thanks, Lloyd!"
Lloyd, a timid guy, and the background artist on the team, said, "You're welcome. You mentioned them, so…."
"I thought the secret Santa gifts were supposed to be anonymous," Raphael complained.
"They are," said Eleanor.
"Yeah, but no one else would have gotten me these," said Traya. "Obviously, it was Lloyd."
She started a trend. Everyone who opened a gift was able to guess who their secret Santa was.
Sam got a gift certificate for his favorite arcade palace from Raphael.
Raphael got a vintage game of Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots from Leslie, our young intern.
Leslie got a book on game design principles from Eleanor.
Eleanor got a set of bath aromatherapy in scents like Deathshade and Night Hemlock from Traya.
And Lloyd got an action figure of Edvard Munch's The Scream from Sam.
Sitting there, watching it all unfold, it struck me how much better my teammates knew each other than I did, and how much more comfortable they were around each other.
I felt like such a third wheel. Or seventh wheel, in this case.
If I was an NPC, my name would be "Periphery Guy. " Or maybe "He Who Does Not Bother."
The new perspective made me feel a little guilty.
"This is a gift for Doug," Eleanor said, pulling out the gift I had wrapped.
"I got his name," I shrugged. "But he left the team a few weeks ago. So maybe someone else can have it?"
"No, I'll send it to him," Eleanor said. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it, whatever it is."
"It's a sound machine. It has various sounds like waves or birds, for going to sleep," I supplied. It had been on sale at a store near my apartment. It's not like I'd put a lot of thought into it.
"Well, that's very nice," Eleanor said. "Doug will be thrilled."
"But that means Patrick doesn't have a present?" said Leslie, insulted on my behalf.
"No, I'm good," I said. "I don't need one."
"Wait!" Eleanor felt around conspicuously in the bag. "What's this?" She pulled out a red-wrapped gift. "Why it's for Patrick." She tossed it to me.
I caught the present. It was light. There was a huge white tag on it, which I read out loud. "Close your eyes and silently speak the wish that lies at the very bottom of your heart." I laughed. "Okay, who's been writing game dialog?"
Everyone looked around, but no one raised a hand.
Traya shrugged. "Do it. Do what it says."
"Yeah, make a wish," said Sam.
"Couldn't hurt," agreed Eleanor.
I made a face, but it suddenly didn't seem like the worst idea in the world. I squeezed my eyes closed and thought, "My Christmas wish is to meet someone. Someone who sees me—and loves me for who I really am."
Wow, that was pathetic. True, but most definitely not good. I'd have to try harder in the new year to get out more.
"Well, open it!" said Eleanor.
I did and with just a teensy bit more excitement than was warranted.
Inside the red wrapping was a box. I opened the flaps and saw something wooden.
I lifted it out. It was a carved figure of Krampus, about ten-inches tall, and elaborately painted with a dark red Santa coat, pale yellow face, and curving black horns and hooves.
I immediately recoiled but then felt bad about it.
"Huh," I said. "Cool." I was being polite.
I turned it over. On the flat wooden bottom was a phrase in another language.
"Something's written on it. Anyone speak… What? Norwegian?"
"I speak Google translate," said Lloyd, chuckling at his own joke.
"Wait. There's a card at the bottom of the box." I fished out another plain white card. In neat print, it copied the foreign phrase on the bottom of the statue and had the English words underneath, "Make a wish for your heart's desire. Krampus will bring it through flood and fire."
"Thanks… Sam!" I guessed, looking at my cubicle neighbor.
Sam blinked. "Huh? It wasn't me. It's awesome, though. Can I see it?"
I handed it over.
"Wow. This is an antique. It’s the real deal."
"Of course it's real," Traya said. "Lemme see."
Sam handed her the figure. She looked at it with awe. "Wow, this really does look old. No way this fits the twenty-five-dollar limit."
"'Course not. It's for the Princess," Raphael muttered. Referring, of course, to me. Anger sparked in my chest.
"What's your problem?" I demanded, completely forgetting my vow a moment ago to try harder.
"Now, kids," Eleanor warned. "It's a lovely gift. And no one said you had to spend money. Maybe someone had it lying around. Like a family heirloom. Anyone care to claim it?" She looked around. "No?"
No one raised a hand.
"Well! Looks like your secret Santa remains secret, Patrick. Traya, give it back."
Traya pouted. "But it's so fire. Wanna trade, Patrick?"
"No!" The word came faster and sharper than I intended. Something about the carved figure—grotesque and ancient—called to a part of me I didn't even know existed. I suddenly very much wanted the hideous thing.
Reluctantly, Traya handed it over.
"Good! Well, thanks everyone for the thought and care you put into secret Santa," said Eleanor. "You're free to go. Have the best Christmas ever, and a Happy New Year!"
People started hugging. I rolled back to my cubicle.
I could probably get a few more bugs fixed before noon.
I put the Krampus statue next to my keyboard.
Funny how its eyes seemed to be on me no matter which way I angled it.
It was kind of freaky, so I turned it so its back was to me. Then I got busy.
Sometime later, Eleanor said, "Don't stay too late! I bet they'll lock the whole building up. Patrick?"
"Yeah. Just a sec." I closed another bug.
"I mean it. Vamoose. And Merry Christmas, Patrick."
"Um-hm. Merry Christmas."
When I finally closed the program and rolled away from my monitor, I saw the entire team had left. It was 12:30 p.m. on Christmas Eve day, and it was just me—and Krampus. And for a moment, as the fluorescent lights buzzed above me, it felt like Krampus was impatient for us to leave too.
I stood up and stretched. Had Eleanor said something about the building locking up? Anyway, there was no point hanging out. I might not have any plans for Christmas, but I didn't have to be the last, socially inept guy still at work because I had nothing better to do.
Even though I apparently was the last, socially inept guy still at work because I had nothing better to do.
I stuffed Krampus in my backpack and headed out.