Faking Christmas
Cindy Steel
PROLOGUE
The Incident
DATE: NOV 16
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
Subject: The WORST
Dear Millie,
Per our discussion at lunch, I’ve compiled my argument in regard to your leaning to the dark side, AKA letting yourself believe that Miles Taylor isn’t the actual worst. That is, indeed, the case, and I feel compelled to inform you that the man with the “fine pair of hams” just spent the past ten minutes berating me in the hallway. It’s time you know the truth about “the hottest attraction this school has ever seen.”
I almost threw up in my mouth just typing that.
Once you peel you’re eyes away from the “sexy forearms” and the “hair a girl could run her fingers through” （side note: you really need to start reading higher quality books）， you’ll see what I see, which is NOT anything like Wade Kinsella, okay? Your Hart of Dixie comparison is crap. Wade Kinsella was a charming bad boy with a heart of gold. Miles is a self-righteous, know-it-all, arrogant adrenaline junkie with a heart of coal.
‘Tis the season.
Just in the last week, he has forced completely unsolicited advice down my throat, criticized me and all my life choices, made fun of my volunteering to help at the staff meeting, and made snide comments while I was kindly helping out Mr. Johnson in the copy room, all while inviting me to have one of his stupid Friday donuts like he was doing me a favor by being in his company.
These are the facts. Now that you’ve joined the Miles Fan Club along with every other person at this school, I would like you to explain to me his alleged appeal outside of his “sweet as sugar personality,” because I don’t get why he’s got the whole school eating out of his hands while only I can see what he really is: A stinking, rotting fish in a sleazy, younger Brad Pitt-esque package.
Love,
Olive
P.S. In case you’re wondering. I’ve never been a fan of Brad Pitt, so that wasn’t a compliment. More of a Bradley Cooper girl myself.
P.P.S. Feel free to debate. I’ll go down swinging.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
Did you get my email from yesterday? I’m losing my steam over here. Very disappointed in your counterattack.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
What email? The one you sent with the dog and the balloon? That was hilarious. I showed it to Hank and the kids when I got home.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
No. The one I sent about your “friend” who works across the hallway from me.
And yes…funniest dog video ever.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
Oh, you mean that incredibly hot single man who works across the hall from you? That hunk of eye candy who brings donuts for the school every single Friday out of the sheer kindness of his heart? Never got anything. Checked my spam, too. Stupid server. Maybe send again?
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
Hello? Now I’m dying to know what you sent. Must have been good. SEND AGAIN.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
Hmmm. It’s Friday. School’s almost out. I’m really in the mood for a good donut…
Know of any place I can get one today?
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
Mark my words, you have five minutes to spill everything or else I will be eating a donut from Miles, and I don’t want to hear any crap from you.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
I sent the email to Miles.
I SENT THE EMAIL TO MILES.
Not YOU.
I’m freaking out. I’m freaking out. I’m freaking OUT.
WHAT DO I DOOOOOO?????
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
WHAT? How did that happen??? What did it say?!
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
Somehow it autocorrected to his email. DANG you for having the same first three letters as the worst person ever!! WHAT DO I DO???
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
I don’t know the level I should be freaking out at. WHAT DID IT SAY?!
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
WORDS. LOTS AND LOTS OF WORDS THAT HE WILL DEFINITELY TAKE THE WRONG WAY. I mentioned his hams. I remember that. I MENTIONED HIS FINE PAIR OF HAMS.
I will be switching schools immediately. It was nice knowing you.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
GIF of woman spitting out her coffee
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
You did this to me. You got in my head! They were all your phrases. I was throwing all the things you said about him back at you. SARCASTICALLY.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
In my defense, it is a nice butt. We both agreed on that.
Maybe this should be a lesson for us to text each other instead of emailing.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
I can type faster in an email.
What do I dooooo?
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
FOR THE LOVE, send me a copy of this email. I am DYING to read it. It sounds…JUICY.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
You’re dead to me.
I just sent it. Double-checked the name seven times before sending it.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
Just read it and…I just…I…
WOW.
DATE: NOV 17
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
Celery Stick,
I was surprised to get your email. Regardless, it was a most insightful read.
I was a bit shocked by all the errors, however. I thought the English Department at Stanton had a higher standard of quality. I’ve taken the liberty of pointing these out to you, for your own study. You’ll find the corrected document scanned and attached to this email.
Your man with the fine pair of hams, Miles
ONE
One Month Later
“I have not the pleasure of understanding you.”
Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice
“Olive.”
I looked up from putting the end-of-semester grades into my computer system to find Mrs. Barnes, the school counselor, poking her curly blonde head into my empty classroom.
I smiled, leaning back in my chair and stretching my back for a moment. “Hey, Jill. Excited for the break?”
Her long skirt swished against the floor as she approached my desk with papers in her hand. “So much. This past week has been crazy getting everything lined up for next semester. I had so many kids wanting to switch out of classes at the last second, which makes for one tired and annoyed counselor.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t envy her job in the slightest. And that was with me having just survived two and a half weeks of teaching in December—that magical month where all of the students get high on some sort of Christmas crack they must filter through the hallways, leaving the teenagers overly hyper with zero attention spans. The Christmas music the secretary insisted on blasting through the intercom in between classes didn’t help. Students somehow struggled to concentrate on the poignant words of William Shakespeare with “Jingle Bell Rock” stuck in their heads after their walk from Spanish class.