Jayda’s Christmas Wish Read online

  Connor glances around, as if checking that we’re alone. Then he leans closer, bringing the crisp scent of his cologne with him. My heart skips a beat. From this close, I can see the little dark blue flecks in his eyes, see that tiny little smirk on his lips. How have I gone so long without noticing what a hottie he is?

  “I’ll be honest,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t care about the pizza. I just want to hang out. But I’m always too chicken to ask you on a date, so I cover it up with pizza.”

  His eyes meet mine. He looks so cute and scared after that confession. My breath catches in my throat and I can’t believe what I just heard. He likes me. He wants to ask me out.

  He wants to cook pizza for me.

  He’s watching me with so much anticipation that I know it’s killing him to wait on my reply. I smile and put him out of his misery. “I want you to ask me out too,” I say.

  The bell rings, and lunch period is now over. We both stand up, and he shoves his stuff back in his backpack, then rips off a corner of his math work and hands it to me. “Text me your number and I’ll ask you out as soon as I get the guts to.”

  With a wink that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, he turns and rushes out of the library.

  My heart is absolutely pounding. The little butterflies in my stomach are doing acrobatics. Connor likes me. Connor wants to ask me out. I can’t believe this is happening! Everything else in my life might suck right now, but this is one good thing. One very, very good thing.

  I look down at the paper in my hand and my internal celebration comes to an abrupt stop. On the paper, he’s written his name and number. In black pen.

  In scrawly letters and terrible penmanship.

  Chills rise across my arms and zoom down my neck. I’ve seen this writing before.

  From the North Pole.

  Chapter Ten

  Connor

  Jayda doesn’t text me at school. I figure she might wait until after school, but by dinner time my phone still hasn’t lit up with a text from her. It’s bothering me more than it should. I finally got the guts to put myself out there and she had seemed interested in me too. Those few seconds in the library were amazing. So why isn’t she texting me?

  I know I could look her up on Snapchat but that would make me seem like a loser who can’t just wait for her. So I decide to wait for her.

  My doorbell rings a little while later, and it’s the mail man, Jerry. He doesn’t bring the Santa letters at the same time as the regular mail, instead waiting until after his regular shift is over. I never answer the door, but I don’t think he expects me to. He just drops off the bag of letters, rings the doorbell, and walks away.

  Today, like the last couple of days, I rush out there and drag the bag of letters into the dining room. Then I shuffle through them, searching for a reply from Jayda. Today is my lucky day.

  I rip open her letter and read it through. Her mom was an admin assistant, which is good news. If she was a teacher or something, I don’t think I’d be able to help her. Her brother wants a dog. She doesn’t specify which dog, and she doesn’t seem think Santa will bring her a real dog anyway.

  I gaze at the stack of letters in front of me, wondering what I should do about Max’s present. Then something catches my eye. It’s actually not a letter at all, but a manila envelope that’s addressed to Santa’s Elves. I open it, my jaw dropping when I see a stack of cash inside. There must be a thousand dollars here.

  I tip the envelope upside down and a folded letter falls out. It’s thick and several pages long.

  Dear Connor,

  I feared the tradition would end this year, but then I heard you are taking over as Santa. Your mom would be so proud of you. Please see enclosed for a list of this year’s underprivileged children. If you need any help, just give me a call.

  Happy holidays, and my thoughts are with you and your family.

  Judy Price

  What on earth? I look through the papers, and see lists of kids, ages, and stuff they want for Christmas. A lump rises in my throat. It’s clear they want me to use the donated money to buy gifts for these kids, but I have no idea where to begin. Why did I go talk to Mrs. Harris? I should have never taken this over. I can’t just ignore the letters anymore… I have a stack of money and a huge obligation.

  I leave everything on the dining table and take a walk to clear my head. Then, when it’s late enough for Dad to be off work at the oil rig, I give him a call.

  “Good to hear your voice,” he says. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m kind of freaking out,” I say. Then I explain the letters and the money.

  “I’m sure you can take it to Mrs. Harris and tell her you don’t want to do it,” Dad says, ever the logical yet unemotional one.

  I sigh. “She thinks I’m going to answer the letters. But I didn’t know all this money and present buying came with the job. Why did I never see Mom do any of this?”

  “Your mother didn’t want people to know that she bought presents for some kids who needed it,” he says. “She didn’t want anyone to feel embarrassed.”

  “I can’t believe she kept this from me.”

  Dad chuckles. “You were never really interested in the Santa letters.”

  I guess he’s right. Mom would spend hours a day in the dining room, studiously writing back on the Santa stationary and I never paid much attention.

  “I’m not replying to these letters,” I say. “There’s way too many. And I’m not buying presents, either. Maybe I’ll just return the money to whoever sent it.”

  “Go for it,” Dad says. “Someone else will pick up the slack. They can’t expect you to do all of that work, you’re just a kid.”

  I roll my eyes. I’m almost eighteen, but I’m not about to argue because I really don’t want to do this. “So it’s cool if I send it back and ditch this whole thing?”

  “Of course,” Dad says. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to. Just tell them it’s too painful since your mom died this year.”

  A painful knot in my stomach makes it hard to breathe. It is too hard. Mom hasn’t been gone very long. That’s a perfectly logical excuse.

  But what if I want to use some of the money for Jayda’s brother and then give the rest back? They would think I’m a jerk.

  “Dad, there’s another reason I called. My friend’s mom needs a job and she’s an experienced admin assistant. Do you think they are hiring at the office?”

  The office is my dad’s main corporation that’s located here in town. They staff a lot of engineers and machine shop guys as well as office people. Only a few of the employees go offshore, like my dad.

  “How badly does she need a job?” Dad asks.

  “Really bad.”

  “Sure thing.”

  The pain in my chest disappears. There’s a huge advantage to having a dad that’s on the board of his company. “Really? That would be awesome.”

  “Email me her resume and contact info. I’ll tell Anna to find a spot for her.”

  My excitement crashes. Of course I’d need her contact info. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier? I’ll just have to find a way to get it without telling Jayda how I know her mom needs a job. I have no idea how that will be possible.

  Maybe once she finally texts me, I can casually ask what her mom does for a living.

  No, that’s stupid.

  I heave a sigh and realize Dad is still talking on the other end. He tells me he’s sorry he won’t make it home for Christmas.

  “It’s fine,” I say, trying to sound cool with it all. “I think it’s better this way. There’s no reason to celebrate Christmas, you know?”

  Dad takes a second to reply. “I guess you’re right, son.”

  Once I’m off the phone, I stare at the cash some more and consider what I’m going to do. It’ll be easy to send it all back. Just call up Mrs. Harris and tell her I can’t do it. I’ll say the pain of my mom’s passing is too much. Sure, there’s only a week
and a half until Christmas, but someone else can figure out what to do. It’s not fair that this was all put on my lap.

  I feel really bad for abandoning all these kids, but I tell myself to get over it. They’ll go on. They’ll have other Christmases.

  For now, I’m just going to watch some TV and sit by the phone and hope Jayda texts me.

  Chapter Eleven

  It took everything I had not to cry at school. I persevered though, and waited until I got home yesterday to bawl my eyes out. Shame fills every fiber of my being. I poured my freaking heart out to a fictional person and Connor read it. He knows my secret. He knows I’m poor. He knows my family is struggling, and worse than that—he knows I’m the kind of loser who writes letters to Santa.

  What was up with that flirting he did in the library? Was it just a joke? Does he feel sorry for me?

  I can’t believe I thought he actually liked me. The whole thing was probably some pity charade. I hope he hasn’t told everyone in school about my letter yet.

  And how did he even get the stupid letter? I hope he doesn’t get the reply I sent back to the north pole.

  So many questions fill me up and make me dizzy, sick to my stomach, and angry. I’m so mad at myself for sending that stupid letter, and for getting my hopes up that a gorgeous guy actually liked me back.

  Our school is so very tiny, and it’s hard to go an entire day without seeing someone. I know this firsthand because I’ve tried to avoid Ricky ever since he broke up with me. I’m almost never successful. We even have one class together. Still, I try to avoid seeing Connor the next day at school. I know I can’t avoid him forever, but I’m too embarrassed to see him right now.

  A terrible thought hits me when I make my way to the library again for lunch.

  He only invited my brother and me to his house for dinner because he probably thinks we’re starving since we’re so poor.

  Ugh. I’m just his charity case!

  Hot tears sting my eyes but I force them back. I will not cry at school. If anything, I’m going to look extra happy and like nothing is wrong. I eat my bag of cheerios at a hidden table in the back of the library, and somehow I make it all the way to the end of the day without seeing Connor. I hang around my locker for a while, waiting until most people are gone before I make my way toward the bus. I’m too late to catch a ride on the school bus, but the town bus will stop by at some point.

  “Hey, Jayda!”

  I cringe. My eyes close and I take a deep breath and consider running away, but what good would that do? I’m standing just outside of school and there’s a whole parking lot in front of me.

  Connor jogs up to me. “What’s up?” he says, flashing me a cute smile that has just as much flirty intent as yesterday.

  I roll my eyes. “Just leave me alone.”

  His face falls. “What? Why?”

  I pick up my pace but he keeps up with me. I have to walk through this entire parking lot and then across the road to the bus stop until I can get away from him, and even then he might follow me. I wrap my arms around myself to brace from the chilly wind. “Just go away.”

  “Jayda. Wait.” Connor’s voice is soft, and I almost feel bad for making him feel bad. “Did I do something?”

  I stop and turn toward him, my chest hurting when I see his face. I thought he was a nice guy. I thought I could trust him, but he’s just another hottie who treats girls like crap. “Yeah, you did something,” I say, my hands clenching into fists. “You should have just ignored it.”

  “Ignored what?” Connor’s face crumples up in confusion. “Please explain. I’m totally lost.”

  I grit my teeth and look away. “I recognized your handwriting yesterday.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your handwriting,” I explain again. “The same handwriting as a letter I recently got in the mail.”

  He goes completely still, and when I get the courage to look at him, his face has gone pale. “I didn’t even think of that.”

  I roll my eyes. “So what’s the game, huh? Are you playing a trick on me? Was the pizza date just pity or will all the jocks be there to make fun of me for being poor?”

  “Whoa,” Connor says, holding out his hands. “No, Jayda. I swear. It’s no joke. It’s not a trick.”

  I snort out a derisive laugh. “Of course it’s a trick. You’re clearly not Santa Claus.”

  He points toward his truck, which is parked just a few feet away. “Get inside. I’ll explain it all.”

  “I’d rather not, thanks.”

  “Jayda, please.” His eyes are filled with so much emotion, and I’m almost tempted to believe him. I want to believe him. But there’s no way this isn’t some horrible joke.

  Is there?

  “Please,” he says again. “I’ll explain it all and then if you want to hate me, well, you can hate me. But please let me explain first.”

  Jaw clenched, I get into his truck, if only to escape the cold.

  He cranks up the engine and turns on the heater, then he puts the truck in drive.

  “Wait, where are we going?” I ask.

  “My house. It’s just a mile away.

  The drive is short, but the silence that stretches between us feels like an eternity. Soon, I am following him up his driveway and onto his porch, and inside his house. “This way,” he says, leading me through the living room. We enter a dining room that’s filled with bags and envelopes. He turns on the light. My jaw drops.

  “These are every letter that has been written to Santa from the kids in our town,” he says.

  I gaze out a the sea of envelopes, in all shapes and sizes and colors, some with real stamps and some with fake drawn on stamps. “Why do you have them?”

  “My mom was the official Santa for the town for over twenty years. The post office had an agreement with her and they sent her all letters that were addressed to Santa, and she replied to all of them.” He looks down and runs a hand over his neck. “After she died this year, the letters just showed up like usual.”

  “I had no idea,” I say. I’ve never written a letter to Santa before. And maybe all of Max’s friends who claimed they got replies in the mail were telling the truth.

  Connor frowns. “Mrs. Harris even orders the stationary special so that only Santa’s letters have it. I’m not going to reply to the letters, I’ve already decided that it’s not worth it. I wasn’t going to do anything with them, but then I happened to see your name on one. It was after that day we had detention.” His eyes look at me pleadingly as he says, “I shouldn’t have read it. It was a violation of your privacy and I’m sorry. But I did read it, and I thought maybe I could help. I kind of did find a way to help… my dad said he could hire your mom at his company.”

  All my anger disappears in a second. “Really?”

  He grins. “Yeah, he just needs her resume. He can hire her as an admin assistant.”

  “That would be amazing,” I say, feeling a joy flood through my veins. Then my smile fades, because although Mom getting a job is the best news ever, this is still extremely embarrassing.

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” I say softly. “I don’t want the whole world to know that we’re poor.”

  “I would never do that,” he says, lightly touching my arm. My skin burns from his touch, and when his hand falls away a few seconds later, I wish it was still there.

  I peer up at him. “I can get you my mom’s resume. And then… maybe we just never talk about this again?”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Never talk about this, or never talk in general?”

  I shrug. “Let’s just go back to being random students at the school, like how it used to be before you felt sorry for me.”

  “But I was really hoping to go on that date…” he says, biting on his lower lip.

  “I thought the date was because you felt sorry for me.”

  His lips split into a huge grin. “Are you kidding? No. It’s not even related. Jayda, I’ve had a huge crush on you forever.”

&
nbsp; “Seriously?” I am smiling and blushing, and I’m probably looking like a total goof right now but I can’t help it. This is huge, life-changing news.

  He takes a step closer and peers down at me with those gorgeous eyes that send a chill straight down my spine. “Yes, seriously. Since before you dated Ricky. That’s why I told you not to date him—I wanted you to date me.”

  I draw in a shallow breath. “Then why didn’t you ask me out?”

  He shrugs, his hands reaching out and settling on my hips. “I was too shy. Too scared. Name it, and I was it.”

  I roll my eyes. “I would have rather dated you than him.”

  “If only I had been braver back then,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. I don’t know how we got so close, but now we’re standing toe to toe, and his hands are warm on my sides, and he smells amazing, and his lips are just … right … there. It would take nothing at all, a tip of my chin, and we’d be kissing.

  My heart threatens to pound right on out of my chest. Connor watches me for a long moment, and it feels like something special. One of those rare and amazing events that only happen a few times in your life. Is he going to kiss me? Am I going to kiss him?

  No, I realize. Not now. Not when everything is too raw and too new and too scary.

  I take a small step backward and give him a look. “There’s something else you have to do,” I say, sounding braver and more authoritative than I feel.

  “Anything,” he says.

  I reach over the table and take a fresh piece of Santa stationary and then hold it out to him. “You’re going to write my brother back.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It took me half an hour to come up with the wording for Max’s letter. Then I made Connor write it because Max is clever and he’d notice if his letter was written in a different handwriting than mine. When it’s finished, I read over it.

  Dear Max,