Scavenger Hunt for Christmas (Holly Ridge Christmas #3)

1. Quinn

1

QUINN

T he excited din of my classroom reaches an almost unbearable pitch, forcing me to tap a ruler firmly against my desk. With a warm grin on my face, I shake my head, causing stray strands of dark hair to fall over my forehead, tickling the tops of my eyebrows. I’m already cursing this new haircut. Bangs don’t suit me, even long, wispy ones like I saw in a magazine. They had looked so cute on the actress wearing them. I don’t know what I was thinking. I hope they grow out quickly.

Blowing the strands off my forehead, I revert my attention back to the wide-eyed third graders who stare at me worriedly, unaccustomed to the loud sound of my ruler. My grin widens reassuringly.

“Friends, I know you’re excited about Thanksgiving,” I say sweetly, gesturing for them to settle down with my hands. “But we still have to get through social studies, and then you can burn off all that excess energy in gym class before you go home.”

“Sorry, Ms. Tanner,” they intone in tandem, settling back in their seats.

The colorful paper turkeys dangle from the ceiling on strings, a recent art project produced with the help of their reading buddies in the first-grade class. In the corners of the room, pumpkins still sit, although all the jack-o’-lanterns have long since been tossed into the woods for the deer and squirrels to snack on. We’ll take the squashes and pumpkins out there, too, on one of our nature hikes, after Thanksgiving break, to make way for the incoming Christmas decor. I shiver at the thought. I don’t particularly care for those chilly morning walks. I’d much rather be hunkered down by a bonfire if I’m going to be outdoors. Still, I can’t help but appreciate the beauty of the season around me.

Through my peripheral view, I watch as snow begins to fall. I don’t blame my students for being distracted on the day before a long weekend. Thanksgiving marks the unofficial start of the holidays. There’s an energy in the air that’s undeniable. Even I want to be a part of the festivities, but I can’t let them see how much I’m anticipating the end of the day.

I have to hold it together for another couple of hours. Then I can return home and pull out my box of Christmas decorations before joining my family for Thanksgiving this weekend. I can almost taste my mom’s homemade apple pumpkin pie, and it’s making my stomach growl.

A gentle rap on the classroom door distracts me from my split mind. I stand from my desk to approach the hallway curiously as the kids strain to look with just as much eagerness. They’re happy to avoid their reading assignment, if only for a few minutes.

“Keep reading, please,” I intone, knowing my command is futile. They’re far too excited. Anything they read now is going through their overstimulated minds.

I open the door, cocking my head curiously to look at the woman in the corridor. The vice principal leans casually against the wall, holding a flyer in her hand. Behind me, the kids take my momentary lapse of attention as a free-for-all, and they burst into chatter again like I’ve turned invisible with the door’s opening.

“Hey!” I call out, whipping my head back toward them. “Read your chapter, please. Don’t make me give you all a pop quiz.”

A low groan of protest follows my request, but their talking dies down, and I return my attention back to the woman in front of me.

“Sorry. How can I help you?” I ask pleasantly.

She thrusts the page in her hand toward me. “It could have waited until after school, but I figured no one is really doing any teaching right now,” she chuckles. Her assessment is accurate, and like my students, I’m not opposed to the distraction. “The Christmas festival committee is looking for volunteers.”

I glance down at the paper in my hand, a small frown of confusion creasing my brow. The need for volunteers is hardly news, but having the committee scout the school like this is a weird move. “Why are they reaching out to us? Has something happened?”

“They’re introducing a new event this year,” she explains. “Which is going to start the festival a bit earlier than usual. It will run just before the official start time on Friday.”

My eyes fall on the bold print of the advertisement.

Christmas Scavenger Hunt

Volunteers and Participants Needed Immediately for Friday Morning!

A bemused laugh escapes my lips, and the moment of peace from my classroom dissipates in the background. The child’s whispers grow louder, but I ignore them for a second as I try to focus on what’s being asked of us.

“The kids are off of school that day, but it’s a planning day for teachers,” I point out.

“The principal is willing to let you skip the planning-day meetings, but I don’t think we’ll have too many people leaping at this one,” she snickers.

Her unspoken meaning hits me. This is Edna Monroe’s creation.

She’s having a hard time recruiting volunteers herself.

I feel a stab of pity for the older woman, despite her reputation. Many people find her personality off-putting, but for all her sassiness, Edna does a lot of good in Holly Ridge.

“This is a bit last minute, isn’t it?” I sigh.

The vice principal shrugs her broad shoulders and pivots to march away, determined to distribute the rest of her flyers. “I don’t know. I’m just delivering the flyers, as per Her Majesty’s orders.”

My guffaw is louder now. “So Edna did request this,” I determine, and she shoots me a meaningful look over her shoulder.

“Edna demanded this,” she corrects me with a smirk.

Grinning, I shut the door and retreat to the head of the class, scanning the rest of the flyer with renewed interest, shushing the kids as I do, the low heels of my boots clicking rhythmically with the sway of my earrings. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I slip onto the edge of my desk and order the kids to close their books. Relief colors their collective faces.

“Did you hear about this?” I ask, barely able to hide my own enthusiasm as I wave the sheet around.

“What is it, Ms. Tanner?”

“There’s going to be a scavenger hunt at the Christmas Festival.”

I wait expectantly for them to show some kind of childlike glee, but their expressions are a combination of boredom and disdain.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, surprised by their lack of response.

“Scavenger hunts are for babies,” one girl complains, fueling my disappointment.

I stifle the urge to reprimand the characterization, maintaining a stoic expression.

“Since when?” I ask.

You guys are still so young, too, I want to remind them. Don’t lose the magic yet!

They shrug, almost in unison.

I notice the way they look at one another, as if they’re looking for each other’s approval. It’s a rough age. They’re still young enough to want to get excited about things like a scavenger hunt, but old enough to hesitate, worried about looking uncool in front of their friends.

You couldn’t pay me to be a kid again.

But not on my watch. I want them to love life as long as they possibly can, and they won’t be discouraged by one another. I’ll make sure they enjoy every second of their childhoods under my control.

“That’s too bad,” I sigh, standing. “Because I’m going to take part in it, and I’m not a baby.” I turn my back to them and head toward the whiteboard, picking up a dry erase marker. “But if you guys don’t think it will be fun, you might as well open your books back up?—”

“Wait, what?” The little blonde girl who had initially been opposed suddenly changes her mind. “ You’re going to take part in the scavenger hunt?”

I suppress a grin as I peek over my shoulder. “Of course I’m going! Why wouldn’t I?” I reply, blinking in surprise.

“Are you sure, Ms. Tanner?” the first little girl asks suspiciously.

“Are you kidding? It’s a whole day of looking for clues in pairs, like a detective?—”

“That’s not what scavenger hunts are!” she protests. “It’s just running around looking for stuff that’s not hidden very well. I do them every year with my baby cousins, and they’re boring. Someone always ends up crying.”

I shake my head and pick up the paper Edna Monroe crafted, describing the event in great detail. “Not this one,” I tell my students. “This one is like a mystery. You would team up with a partner, like your mom or dad or brother or best friend, and you have to figure out the clues along the way. And the last team will win a grand prize!”

I have the class’s undivided attention now, and I swallow a smile of pleasure.

“What’s the prize?” my quietest student asks hopefully. I lean forward and lower my voice dramatically.

“It’s…”

The bell rings in perfect dramatic comedy, keeping me from responding, and I sit back as they groan.

“Well?” the kids demand, and I shrug again.

“I guess you’ll have to sign up for the scavenger hunt yourselves and find out.”

“Ms. Tanner!”

“Off to gym class now.” I shoo them out the door. “And then you’re free for Thanksgiving weekend. Have a wonderful and safe weekend, friends! I’ll see you on Monday! Enjoy your turkeys!”

Giggling, the students shuffle out of my classroom, their chatter decidedly more upbeat now as talk of the scavenger hunt fills my ears, and I scan the page again in their absence, reading it more carefully now that I have a free period.

Edna Monroe took great pains to outline the details of the event, and I have to appreciate the resident curmudgeon’s efforts.

This could be fun, I reason, and not just because I want to rally the support of my students. Despite the fact that it’s going to be outside, I like the idea of healthy competition. Edna’s number is at the bottom of the page, and I steel myself before reaching into my desk to call, the corners of my lips twitching in anticipation as I flop back into my wooden chair, eyes trained back on the wide windowpanes. She answers almost right away.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Edna. It’s Quinn Tanner.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. “Who?” she demands, and I roll my eyes, crossing my legs, unfazed by her brusque nature. I’ve known the woman my whole life, just like everyone else in town.

“I’m a teacher at Holly Ridge Elementary.”

“There are lots of teachers at Holly Ridge Elementary,” she reminds me, and I laugh.

“Not that many,” I correct her. “I teach third grade. You’ve known my family since before I was born?”

“Hm.”

Silence follows, and I wait for her to say something else. When she doesn’t, I clear my throat nervously and sit forward. “I’m calling about the scavenger hunt. Are you still looking for people to volunteer?”

“Of course. I only just sent out the notices. I’m not a magician, Mrs. Tanner.”

I grimace. “Ms. Tanner.”

“That’s what I said.”

Sometimes, speaking to Edna is like pulling teeth, but I remind myself that there’s no sense in arguing with her. It’s best to just get my point across and get off the phone. “I’d like to help out. I think I can get the students interested and involved.”

“I should hope so, or you’d be a terrible educator, wouldn’t you?” she counters.

I almost laugh aloud, but she’s borderline offensive.

“What do you need me to do?” I sigh.

“I don’t know yet,” she explains. “I have no idea who is going to participate or volunteer, so you need to be open to doing what I need you to do.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the third-grade class take to the field for winter games in the snow for gym class. Their playful shrieks filter through the closed window, and I smile to myself.

“Are you still there, Ms . Tanner?” In the background, a dog barks, and Edna grunts. “I have to go. Someone just came into the shop. Just come by my store later to discuss what we need.”

“Okay, I’ll be there,” I promise. “I’ll come right after school is out.”

“Good. Fine.” She hangs up on me, and I swallow a sigh, setting my cell phone down on the desk before ambling toward the window to watch my class for the last time before the long weekend.

A few of them toss snowballs at each other, while others try their hand at soccer on the snow-covered field. Laughter rings out, and their smiles widen as the game picks up pace.

Look at them all, enjoying one another’s company. They don’t treat each other badly or bully one another, not in my class.

I will never foster that atmosphere here. In my classes, everyone is included and appreciated. I make sure of it and demand it. No one will ever know feelings of inadequacy or loneliness when I can help it.

Shaking off the unexpected dark cloud threatening to overtake me, I refocus my thoughts on Thanksgiving and then the Christmas Festival next weekend.

This scavenger hunt is going to be so much fun. I’ll make sure of that, too.