The Hunt for Christmas- Excerpt
This is an excerpt from the book, The Hunt for Christmas.
I was officially questioning my sanity. I was questioning whether or not I could be trusted to make decisions. I was trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with me that led to today. What could have possessed me to make all the right choices and decisions to find myself at the mall on Black Friday? The mall was an indoor mall, probably because it was too cold to function outside. In Vegas, all our malls were indoor malls because it was too hot to function outside. In Utah though, everybody knew how to use their heat. The same could not be said for Vegas. Even in winter, when it did get cold, few places actually turned the heat on.
“How did I end up here?” I asked out loud.
Jack laughed next to me. “You just love your big brother so much.”
“I shook my head. “That’s not it.”
He gave me a shove as we walked onto the escalator. There were small mercies left in this world because the escalator was almost empty. I could have a step all to myself, just the way I liked it. I wasn’t sharing with my linebacker of a brother, whose muscular frame makes it hard to share anything with him, especially space.
As I looked out to the downstairs of the mall that was quickly approaching, I learned why the escalator was empty. Everybody had raced off for the big gingerbread looking house that was just added to the center of the mall. I could see people dressed in green elf outfits trying to corral all the families into the line that was still being formed and outlined.
Jack’s sigh was so audible it would have landed him on the naughty list. “I feel like the amount of times I have questioned the ridiculousness of Christmas in this town would have paid for law school.”
“Only if you got a dime every time,” I pointed out.
Jack laughed and turned us in the opposite direction of Santa and his chaos.
After what feels like forever and a few days, we are getting ready to leave the mall. I still didn’t understand what made Jack want to come here today. Back in Vegas, we avoided malls at all costs on Black Friday. We wouldn’t even venture into normal stores until the evening, avoiding all the crazy shoppers who would beat down whoever got in the way of them and their deals.
We had to walk by Santa’s gingerbread house to get back to the side of the mall where we had parked. I couldn’t find the end of the line, curiosity getting the better of me and wanting to see how many people were crazy enough to wait for this. After a moment I realized that I was thankful that I was never subjected to those lines and those forced smile pictures while standing next to some dude in a costume. I should thank my mom sometime. We didn’t do Christmas. I wasn’t complaining about it either. I thought Christmas was crap.
There was an elf who was all smiles and cheer, the embodiment of what you would expect a North Pole elf to be like. He was waving around candy canes and giving them to the people in line. They were all smiling back at him, even if they looked like they were on the verge of asking for a manager five seconds ago. This guy was sprinkling joy like confetti, everybody was getting some and it was probably going to stick to their hair.
The elf locked eyes with me and my breath stopped. I knew that elf. I knew those eyes, that smile, the tightness of his sharp jaw. It was a face I memorized and then kicked myself for memorizing it. I didn’t even know the guy, not really.
Because I had only met the guy once, when he interviewed at Le Pain two days ago. This excited elf was Hunter.
“Ohmygosh,” I said quickly, slamming all the words together.
Jack didn’t hear me. He was focused on his phone, muttering something about a study group, I think, and he was fifty steps ahead of me. I was just about to call for him when I was interrupted.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Hunter said as he walked up to me, his smile taking up his entire face.
How did he even recognize me? I barely talked to the guy when he was in the café. All his attention and focus had been on his coffee cup while he waited for Betty and after his conversation—because let’s face it, it wasn’t an interview—with Betty, he left. He left without a single goodbye. He did thank me for the coffee though, maybe that counted for something.
“Really? Odd, I didn’t realize there was so much to do here,” I said.
He laughed, probably humoring me. That wasn’t my best but it was all I could come up with. My sarcasm was weak. I knew I could do better, the sarcasm gene in my family ran deep.
“You going to come see Santa?” he pointed behind him as if I could miss the giant gingerbread house.
My eyes widened in shock. Seriously? “I’m eighteen.”
He cocked an eyebrow at my answer. “There isn’t an age limit.”
Now my eyebrows went up. “I—I—I—” The words wouldn’t come. I was at a loss for words. What was happening to me?
“Come on, you get a candy cane,” he said, waving one in front of me as if it was going to get me excited about getting in line.
“Hard pass.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong with seeing Santa?”
“You mean outside of the fact that he’s fake?” I ticked off a finger. “And that he’s probably a store manager in a costume and it’s creepy?” I added two more fingers. I quickly glanced around to make sure I didn’t ruin some Christmas ideology for some innocent little kid, but we were relatively alone over here. Alone in a crowded mall was probably wrong, but I was far enough away to not spoil the fakeness of Santa for the children.
“Actually,” he said, “that’s not a store manager. He’s a professional Santa. The real deal.”
What the heck was happening? I glanced around, trying to spot Jack. Why wasn’t he here to back me up? His dislike of Christmas almost matched mine and he had no problem being vocal about it. I needed backup.
I spotted him in front of the Stuff a Stuffie store, talking to a cute store clerk outside where she was advertising Santa and reindeer models that could be built today. Her flushed cheeks told me the type of conversation they were having. I rolled my eyes and went back to the elf in front of me.
“I need a minute to digest the fact that you said the words professional and Santa in the same sentence.”
Hunter laughed, his dark brown eyes lighting up, as if they sparked every time he laughed. I felt a chill go up my spine as he kept eye contact. What was happening to me? I have never noticed things like this before.
“There’s an agency. They have requirements. It’s not creepy.”
He was trying to reassure me. I could tell but if anything that just made the whole thing worse. Professional Santa agencies? Do they have an agent? Who decides their locations? Are their prime locations? I was thinking of too many questions about something I really couldn’t care less about. Even though my brain was trying to make me care.
“It’s a no for me,” I said, shaking my head.
“His face dropped and I found myself considering doing it anyway, just to avoid this turning into a real argument or a debate or something that was more than what was happening right now. I wondered if I were to get in the stupid line if he would drop it.
“Flops, are you ready to go?” Jack asked from behind me.
I angled myself so I could see both men. Jack was holding a stuffed Santa in his hands. A Santa from the Stuff a Stuffy store. A Santa he would have had to build in order to have it in his hands. I looked at his face to see if I could find the explanation there. The reason for why he was willing to build a fricking Santa, the key image to the whole holiday that we hated. He was holding a fricking Santa.
If I were in a cartoon, my ears would have had smoke coming out from them to signal that my brain was fried. I was struggling to process all this information being thrown at me. Ever since Hunter walked up to me it is like I stepped into an alternative universe. One where cute boys might be flirting with me and my brother might like Christmas. I mean, Hunter was flirting, right? Where was Ben when I needed him? I couldn’t just ask Jack what was happening because Hunter was still standing there, holding out the candy cane like it was going to entice me to see Santa.
Hunter noticed the Santa in Jack’s hands. “Your boyfriend likes santa. What do you have against him?”
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t flirting. I couldn’t gauge his tone when he said that. Was he irritated? Was he embarrassed? Was he just being friendly? The arm holding the candy cane fell back to his side. He was standing there, towering over me like a skyscraper. It was a little intimidating to be honest. I found myself thinking about getting in line anyway to make all this go away. Getting in that stupid line would make me disappear at least. I made a mental note to tell Ben this whole story, awkward details, internal monologues, and all, because this was going to be the main point in my book, Why I Don’t Date.
Jack was laughing next to me. A loud, barking type of laughter. The type that should have embarrassed me. The type of laugh that would embarrass a normal person. My brain was going haywire with thoughts. Oh my gosh, I have to work with this guy. I started to imagine what working with Hunter was going to be like. All I could picture was Awkward City, where I was the lone occupant and the mayor. It’s an honor, really. I was going to be the awkward girl with the weird brother with the Santa. As my gaze kept darting between them I fought the urge to put my face in my hands. Hunter just glanced between us like he was trying to figure out the joke he wasn’t let in on.
“I’m her brother,” he said, holding out a hand for Hunter to shake. “ Jack.”
“Hunter,” he replied, shaking his hand.
Jack looked Hunter up and down, taking in his elf outfit, raising an eyebrow as he realized where this guy was working and what he was doing, willingly.
“How does Avery know Buddy the Elf?” He kept his eyes on Hunter, showing that the question was for him and not for me.
“Avery?” Hunter said and looked at me. His eyes grew wide when he realized he learned my name. Maybe he didn’t realize Betty was talking about me during the interview. I just stood there as she got to realize a decade long promise come to life.
“It wasn’t a big deal that he knew my name. I’m not shy or anything but for some reason, him not knowing my name made me feel like I had the upper hand. The upper hand of what, I wasn’t sure. But it was something I was quickly realizing that I wanted back.
What. The. Heck. Is. Happening. To. Me?
“He interviewed at the café on Wednesday.” I left it at that. That’s all there was to say anyway. I have no idea how he remembered me and noticed me in a crowded mall.
Jack nodded his head.
“How come you hate Santa and your brother likes him?” Hunter asked.
Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Someone was accusing him of liking santa. This was going to be good. I got a little excited as I waited for Jack to lay out all the things I couldn’t say, all the reasons we don’t do Christmas.
Jack looked around as if trying to find whatever it was that made Hunter believe he liked Santa. His eyes landed on the Santa stuffie in his hand from the shop.
“Avery just doesn’t like Christmas,” he said.
In my head, my arms were being thrown up in the air and I yelled at my brother for not laying out all the issues we both had with Christmas. I turned to Hunter and laid out the issues. I would tell him how we’ve never celebrated Christmas. I don’t remember celebrating it a single time. I’ve even gone back and looked at pictures and I can’t find any Christmas celebrations from the time I was born. In my mind, Hunter’s eyes were as big as quarters as I continued, shifting into the stupidity behind Christmas movies and the fact that they portray an ideal of Christmas that is unattainable. Things don’t just work out because it is Christmas time and Christmas wishes don’t come true.
“In reality, I was looking between Hunter and Jack, waiting for something to change. I was waiting for someone, anyone to speak. As long as the someone wasn’t me. I was waiting for Jack to add that he also doesn’t like Christmas because it felt very childish to retort with, “You don’t like it either.” I was not a child, despite the fact that a fully grown man in an elf costume was trying to get me to go see Santa.
The silence lasted forever. Seriously, I was getting gray hairs. In fact, I was probably going to need a cane soon just to get to my classes next week. I will be the oldest looking student out of all the other freshmen. It will be great, it’s a wonderful visual.
“What do you mean she doesn’t like Christmas?” Hunter finally, finally, asked.
“She is standing right here,” I replied. I was starting to feel like I wasn’t part of this conversation anymore even though I was standing right in the middle of it.
Hunter brought his eyes back to mine. His brown eyes reminded me of coffee, beautifully mixed coffee, the perfect cup. In my head, I was slapping myself because this was awkward enough and I didn’t need to be noticing the color of his eyes, no matter how pretty they were.
“Why don’t you like Christmas?” he asked.
Of course. Of course he would ask. I mean, it was his question ten seconds ago. I knew my answer. I had been answering this question my entire life. I always told people that I didn’t like Christmas because it was all fake. People got happy and cheerful the moment the clock hit December first (earlier apparently now that we lived in Santa’s Wonderland), and then went back to themselves on December twenty-sixth. It was based on a fake dude who made lists of bad kids and good kids, and who has that kind of time, really? Who wants to be monitored like that? And, there was the improbability of one guy racing around the world in one night to deliver presents. It was all fake and what was the point? I mean, I’ve heard what the point was, holiday spirit and goodwill on earth and all that jam. I would be more impressed if people wanted to spread goodwill on earth on March seventeenth or June thirtieth. Does it count if you do it for a holiday but the rest of the year you don’t have goodwill?
As I met Hunter’s eyes again—his patience waiting for an answer was astounding—I felt myself wanting to be honest, completely honest with Hunter. I found myself on the verge of giving him the real reason I hate Christmas instead of the logical argument I had practiced my entire life.
I’m a pretty honest person. In fact, Jack would say I’m honest to the point where it becomes a problem, a flaw. I would turn myself in if I ever committed a crime. I never lied. I didn’t see the point in it and I hoped, if I was honest with everybody, they would be honest with me in return.
Well, I suppose I told one lie. I don’t think it’s a big lie or even a big deal. This lie is still technically the truth. It’s just a smaller truth than the real truth. At least, that’s my backwards logic on why I continued the lie. It’s still true. I have a different reason for why I don’t like Christmas. It’s a hurtful answer and I don’t like talking about it. Giving the real answer opens up an avalanche of other questions that I wouldn’t want to answer. Everything I’ve told people though when asked that question is true. Holiday spirit is just an excuse for people to stop being jerks for a small part of the year so they feel okay with being jerks the rest of the year. Santa is improbable and not real. Christmas just makes you believe in the magic of things that don’t exist. All of this is true, I do believe this. It just takes second place to another answer. So I don’t really feel like I’m lying. I’m just giving the runner-up answer.
Standing in front of Hunter though, I find that the real answer wants to come out. It is knocking at the door, begging to be let out and I don’t know what to do. I am afraid to open my mouth. What if I say the real answer instead?
My phone starts ringing, a simple melody playing from my back pocket. The sounds make me smile. I have to get this. I just do.
“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” I say, pulling my phone out of my back pocket, and walking away from Hunter and my brother. It’s Ben and he just won the best friend of the year award for saving my behind. I can’t wait to tell him.
Want to learn more about Avery? Will she change her mind about Christmas? Find out in The Hunt for Christmas, available on Amazon. You can purchase a personalized, signed copy from the Love, Scribe Curriculum Shop.