Sock it to Me, Santa!

by Madison Parker

  “Thanks for coming, Ryan,” Mom said on the ride home.

  I crossed my arms and sulked like a five-year-old. “It was a disaster.”

  She laughed. “I should bring you to all my workshops. After seeing your hoobajoob, everyone loved the way their own monkeys turned out.”

  I scowled at her. “What about Jamie? I can’t give him that thing, and I’m supposed to drop the gift off to Mrs. Keats by tomorrow.”

  “It’s not that bad. I was only teasing.”

  “Mom, it looks like a voodoo doll. Complete with blood sacrifice. It’ll probably scare the crap out of him.”

  She smiled in amusement. “You’ll figure something out.”

  “Can I give him the one you made?”

  “It’s not done. I was too busy helping the other women with their finishing touches. Besides, that wouldn’t be right. It’s supposed to come from you.”

  I grumbled something about no one knowing the difference, but she’d made up her mind. I was screwed. I reached into my pocket for a stick of gum, but my fingers found the small felt heart instead.

  * * * * *

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give Jamie the hoobajoob. I knew if he opened it in class, everyone would laugh, and my embarrassment would give me away. Mike would immediately figure out that I was the one who’d made it. Then he’d want to know why I’d gone to all the trouble in the first place. Hell, I wanted to know that myself.

  I tossed and turned that night, trying to come up with an alternative solution. At 5 a.m., I threw the covers back and cursed as I dragged myself out of bed. I rummaged through my closet, determined to find a solution buried among all my junk. In my hour of desperation, I grabbed what I thought would be an acceptable gift, wrapped it, and shoved it in a plastic grocery bag.

  I walked by Mrs. Keats’ room three different times that day before I finally worked up the courage to drop off the gift. I was tempted to return after last period and snatch it back out of the pile, but I didn’t have the nerve to do that either. My fate was sealed.

  “It’s just a stupid gift exchange,” I mumbled to myself. Why was I getting so worked up about it? Even if Jamie hated the gift, he wouldn’t know it was from me.

  * * * * *

  I had trouble sleeping again that night. I woke up in the wee hours of the morning, tangled in an uncomfortable mass of sweat-soaked sheets. I didn’t have nightmares often, but when I did, they always left me feeling shaky and unsettled. I realized I’d been dreaming of the hoobajoob. I couldn’t remember much of the dream other than the feeling of being paralyzed by a pair of glowing red eyes. I turned and looked for the offending monkey who was hiding in the shadows where I’d haphazardly tossed him on the floor.

  “Fucking hell,” I said as I felt for him in the dark and then shoved him in my bottom dresser drawer. Only then did I allow myself to go back to sleep.

  * * * * *

  I felt better by the time I walked into advisory that morning. I’d convinced myself that my gift didn’t matter. Jamie Peterson was nothing to me, and I was nothing to him. If he liked it, great. If not, so what?

  Mike came in and sat by me as usual. “Did you see what Stacey posted on Facebook last night?” he said.

  “No.”

  “That bitch called me a woman hater and said I should try banging dudes instead.”

  I tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.

  “That shit ain’t funny, man.”

  “It’s kinda funny.”

  “Whatever. She’s a skank. So, did you get me Halo 4?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  Mrs. Keats pulled all of the exchange gifts out of the shopping bags and piled them on her desk. She made a big deal of picking each one up and admiring it before calling out the recipient’s name.

  When Mike got his gift, he tore into it immediately. It was a tin filled with chocolate chip cookies. “Dude, now I know you didn’t pick me. Unless you got your mom to make these.”

  When Amber opened her gift, she let out a loud, piercing girly-shriek. “Oh, my God! I love it!”

  All eyes turned to see what she was so happy about. Someone had made her a scarf out of shimmering blue and silver yarn. It looked similar to the one Jamie was wearing.

  She ran over to Jamie and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you!”

  He peeled her off of him and said, “I thought it would look pretty with your eyes.”

  I couldn’t explain the pang of jealousy that shot through my chest at the sight of Amber and Jamie hugging each other.

  Mike must have noticed my discomfort. “Sorry, dude. No way you can compete with that. Even if he is queer. You shoulda made your move on her earlier.”

  “How did he make that scarf so fast?”

  “Dude, he’s got fairy fingers.”

  Amber wrapped the scarf around her neck and pranced back to her seat.

  “So I guess you didn’t get Amber’s name,” Mike said.

  I shrugged, trying my best to seem disinterested.

  When Mrs. Keats called out Jamie’s name, my heart began to race. I reminded myself that no one knew I’d picked Jamie, and that if I played it cool, no one would.

  Jamie took the gift and returned to his seat.

  “Who do you think it’s from?” said one of the girls sitting next to him.

  I had to strain to hear his response. He really was soft-spoken.

  “Probably a guy, based on the way it’s wrapped,” he said. He made a cursory glance around the room, and I immediately broke eye contact when our eyes met.

  “Open it!” Kimberly said, nudging Jamie’s arm.

  I held my breath as Jamie carefully untaped the paper and opened the box.

  My heart sank as his smile fell and his brows furrowed in confusion.

  Mike snickered. “Classic,” he said. “Someone gave Jamie a tie.”

  It wasn’t just any old tie. It had belonged to my dad. Briefly. He’d received it as a gift four years ago, the last Christmas we were together. When he opened it, we all laughed because it was so tacky: red and mint green polka dots on a white background.

  “Shame it’ll never get worn,” my dad said. “Maybe I’ll donate it to Goodwill. Otherwise it’ll just sit in the back of my closet. I’d hate to see it go to waste.”

  “It’s not that bad,” my mom said, trying to keep a straight face. “You could wear it. For the right occasion.”

  “No, no, no.” He chuckled. “It would take someone far prettier than me to pull that thing off.”

  My dad never did get a chance to donate the tie to charity. He had a heart attack a month later. And so it ended up in the back of my closet.

  Jamie pulled the silky tie out of the box and inspected it.

  “Not cool,” his friend said. “It’s suppose to be a handmade gift. You got shafted.”

  Mike snorted and said a little too loudly, “I bet he gets shafted every day.”

  Jamie glanced in our direction, and I quickly looked down. Why did Mike have to be such an ass?

  “It’s okay,” Jamie said to his friend. “It’s the thought that counts.”

  She shook her head. “Yeah, but how much thought went into that ugly thing?”

  “Hey Jamie,” Mike said in a taunting manner. “I think someone’s trying to send you a message. You need to man up.”

  Jamie glared at Mike for a split second, then turned his gaze on me. I felt the panic I’d experienced during the nightmare I’d had the night before. What the fuck? Did Jamie know it was me? How could he possibly know? No, I was just being paranoid.

  “Shut up, Mike,” the girl said. “Like you’d know anything about being a man.”

  “That’s enough, Kimberly. You too, Mike,” Mrs. Keats said. “I hope you all enjoyed your gifts.”

  Mike looked at my empty desk. “Where’s yours?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

  “Hey, Mrs. Keats,” Mike said. “Ryan didn’t get a gift.”


  “Oh, dear,” she said, looking around her desk. “Did someone bring a gift for Ryan?”

  No one responded.

  “I’m sorry, Ryan. Your partner must have forgotten.” Mrs. Keats gave a disapproving look in Kevin’s direction and reminded the class that we all had to participate and that the gifts needed to be handmade. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, knowing that last statement was directed towards me.

  “Dude, that sucks,” Mike said.

  I shrugged again, resigned to the fact that I didn’t deserve a gift. It figured I would be paired with Kevin. Karma was a bitch.

  I guess that’s why I was so shocked to find an envelope taped to my locker at the end of the day. Inside I found a note decorated with little candy canes and gingerbread men:

  Sorry you didn’t get this sooner.

  Merry Christmahanakwanzika!

  Tucked inside the note was an origami figure that I instantly recognized. It was Yoda wearing his Jedi robes. A message was inscribed along the length of his lightsaber: Fear is the path to the dark side.

  I looked around to see if anyone was watching me, but no one seemed to be paying attention. Had Kevin done this? Highly unlikely. No amount of lecturing from Mrs. Keats would move him to perform an act of kindness. But if he wasn’t my partner, then who was? I’d talked about my love of Star Wars during that stupid toilet paper game. I supposed it could be anyone except Mike or Jamie. I already knew whose names they’d picked.

  And what was that business about fear and the dark side? I like a good Yoda quote as much as the next guy, but that was hitting a little too close to home. Still, it was a pretty cool gift. Much better than a tie. I’d do better next time.

  Part Two:

  The Second Exchange

  I started seeing Jamie everywhere. He wasn’t in any of my classes, but he was around. Since when was his locker twelve down from mine? Did the door always stick like that when he tried to open it? Did he always kick it with the toe of his shoe when he closed it? If I’d been on his left instead of his right, I could’ve peeked in. I bet he was the kinda guy who had pictures taped on the inside of the door.

  And since when did Jamie have Mr. Murphy third period? How many times had he stood in a huddle outside the door, waiting to enter the classroom as I walked out? For a moment I wondered if he’d ever noticed me, if I’d ever stood out from the crowd the way he suddenly seemed to.

  Since when did Jamie sit at the lunch table directly behind mine? How often had we sat back to back, stuffing our faces with the same greasy food? Was their table always that empty — just Jamie and his two girl friends?

  Since when did we pass each other in the hall between fourth and fifth period? Did he always hug his books to his chest like that? Did he always walk with his head down when his friends weren’t with him?

  And since when, when I saw him laughing with his friends, did I wish I were in on the conversation, too?

  I told myself that my J-dar was only this finely tuned because of the gift exchange. I merely wanted to find out what he was like so I could give him something better than a lousy necktie. I needed to know more about him, but I couldn’t just walk up and talk to him. That would be too obvious. He’d either realize I was his Secret Santa, or he’d think I had a crush on him. I couldn’t ask around about him either. Then other people would think I had a crush on him. It was an impossible situation.

  Once I got home from school, I decided to try a different approach. Cyberstalking. I looked Jamie up on Facebook, but his information was private. The only thing I was able to see was his profile picture (a white cat with black splotches) and a silly quote from Dr. Seuss about being who you are and saying what you feel. That wasn’t much help. It wasn’t until I scoured our school’s webpage and found out Mrs. Swanson sponsored knitting club on Tuesdays that I forged a plan.

  * * * * *

  I was first to arrive at Mrs. Swanson’s room after school. I asked her if I could get some help with my homework and feigned ignorance while she walked me through a few math problems. I sat in a strategic location that allowed me to keep one eye on the door and one on my paper. As the knitters trickled in, they pushed the desks out of the way so they could all sit on the floor in a big circle.

  “Where’s Jamie?” one of the girls asked as she plopped down and rummaged through her bag.

  “He’ll be here,” Kimberly said. “He told me he’s starting a new project today. Something special.”

  “Speak of the devil,” another girl said, and my eyes flew to the door.

  When Jamie entered the room, his eyes found mine, and he stopped in his tracks.

  “Ryan?” Mrs. Swanson said, tapping my paper. “Are you listening?”

  “Huh?” I looked down at my work. “Sorry. I think I get it now. Can I stay here and work on it some more — in case I have questions?”

  “Sure,” Mrs. Swanson said, rising from her seat. “Let me know if you need help.”

  When I looked back at Jamie, he had turned to face his friends.

  “Cool pants,” one of the girls said to him.

  I glanced at his jeans and my heart stopped. My tie! I’d seen Jamie earlier in the day but hadn’t looked below the belt.

  “He’s gonna make me a pair once I find the right tie,” Kimberly said.

  Jamie had cut the seams on the outside of the legs open and had sewn the tie into them from the knee down.

  Kimberly patted the space beside her, urging Jamie to sit down.

  “Awesome idea,” Denise said. “You could’ve picked a better tie, though.”

  Jamie ran his fingers over the polka dotted silk. “I like it,” he said softly.

  I felt myself getting choked up and had to look away. He was actually wearing the tie!

  The knitters continued to chat about nothing. It sounded mostly like gossip, and Jamie didn’t say much. I was supposed to be gaining insight into Jamie’s psyche, but so far, I hadn’t learned much.

  “What’s that you’re making, Jamie?” Denise asked.

  I glanced at Jamie and our eyes met briefly.

  “Umm…” He hesitated. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “What do you mean, you haven’t decided? You can’t just — oh! It’s a surprise, isn’t it?”

  He smiled.

  “Fine,” she said, pouting. “Be mysterious.”

  The girl on Jamie’s right leaned over and peeked into his bag. “Black and white yarn,” she said. “That’s not like you.”

  Jamie snatched up his bag and moved it to his other side.

  “Who crapped in your Fruit Loops this morning?” the girl said to him.

  Jamie gave her a playful shove. He glanced over to find me staring again, and I quickly looked down at my paper. I’d done two problems in the last twenty minutes.

  The knitters went back to knitting. Mrs. Swanson sat at her desk and graded papers. I tried to look busy as I eavesdropped on conversations about boys in school, boys on TV, boys on the radio. And they say guys have one-track minds? The knitters were over-the-top boy crazy. Jamie didn’t say much, but I wondered if he was boy crazy, too. I wondered what kind of boys he liked. Did he go for the jock types with big muscles? Or did he go for average looking guys with shaggy blond hair, like mine? Not that it mattered.

  Eventually, the knitters started to pack up and say their goodbyes. I waited until they’d all left before I headed out. As soon as I exited the building, a cold wind slapped at my face, and I zipped my coat all the way up to my chin. I was halfway to my car when I heard the shouting.

  “Get the fuck off me!” someone cried. It sounded like Jamie.

  I turned in the direction of the noise and saw a mass of bodies in the distance. Jamie was on the ground with three guys on top of him. I only recognized him because I could see the bottoms of his legs kicking wildly, the polka dots revealing his identity. My first instinct was to hide, to save my own ass, but a sick feeling spreading through my gut wouldn’t let me take the coward’s way out.


  “Hey!” I screamed as I ran towards them, terrified that I was about to get my ass handed to me.

  Jamie struggled under the weight of the bodies and screamed obscenities at his attackers.

  “Hey!” I yelled again as I got closer.

  The three boys suddenly got up and bolted down the sidewalk.

  “Shit, are you okay?” I said as I dropped my bag and kneeled beside Jamie.

  “Fine,” he said, his voice sharp.

  As I stood, I reached for his arm to help him up.

  “Don’t touch me,” he said, jerking his arm away.

  “I’m sorry.” I looked at him closely, trying to assess the damage. No blood. No visible bruises. My eyes swept down his body, and then stopped at his feet. I instantly understood what had happened. Trevor and his goons had taken Jamie’s shoes. They hadn’t intended to hurt him, just humiliate him. It was their thing. The shoes would be on display tomorrow morning, hanging from the power lines in front of the school.

  “My favorite shoes,” Jamie grumbled.

  I looked at his feet again and smiled.

  “It isn’t funny, asshole.”

  “Shit — no, I know. It’s just — your socks…” Jamie’s socks were bright blue and covered with little rainbows and happy-faced clouds.

  Jamie scowled at me then scrambled to his feet. “Yeah, it’s been fun,” he spat out. “Gotta go.”

  “Wait—”

  He turned his head toward me and arched an eyebrow.

  “Let me give you a ride home.”

  “I can walk,” he said, his voice cold and mouth turned down.

  “You can’t walk home in the snow without shoes,” I said. “Only grandparents get to say they’ve done that.”

  He didn’t laugh at my joke, and neither one of us moved for several moments.

  He sighed loudly. “My toes are already numb.”

  “Come on,” I said, nodding my head towards the lot. “I’m parked right over there.”

  Jamie hoisted his bag on his shoulder. “Thanks,” he said softly as I led the way to my car.

  * * * * *

  We didn’t speak as we walked across the lot. The way Jamie clung to the strap of his bag with both hands and walked a step behind me made me think he was considering bolting, and I didn’t want to risk spooking him. When we got to my car, I walked to the passenger-side door first.