The Twelve Dates of Christmas (18 page)

At first everything went perfectly. Cam showed up looking ridiculously handsome in dark pants and a sweater with a shirt and tie underneath, smelling pleasantly of balsam and soap. We walked down the roped-off pathway to the tree area arm in arm while everyone we knew watched and clapped. It felt so much like old times that for a second I wondered if I'd imagined all the rest—my stupid plan, the breakup, Jaylene . . .

We stopped at the base of the tree, an impressive fir draped with hundreds of ornaments and countless ropes of lights just waiting to be set aglow. There was a couple of feet of snow on the ground thanks to the Alberta clipper that had rolled through earlier in the week, but it had been pushed back from around the base of the tree into several large drifts, which only added to the holiday ambience. A podium was set up near the bottom of the tall ladder that stood waiting for me to do my thing. Mrs. Simpson, Principal Jamison, and various other town bigwigs were lined up beside the podium, and Cam and I took our places at the end of the line.

“Congratulations, Miss Michaels,” Mrs. Simpson called over to me in her quavery voice. Apparently she'd forgiven me for that scandalous encounter on my front porch. Or maybe she was just senile enough to have forgotten about it. I could only hope. Meanwhile the reporter from the local paper—the same guy who'd documented my earlier shame, by the way—was snapping photos of the whole festive scene. By the way he smirked at me, I could tell
he
hadn't forgotten.

The mayor stepped up to the podium, straightened his candy-cane-print tie, and began his usual speech about the meaning of Christmas in Claus Lake. I didn't really need to listen. Like just about everyone else there, I'd heard it every year of my life. I glanced around quickly, wondering where Nick and Allie were hiding. They'd promised to keep out of sight until after the lighting, just in case Cam had any notions about handing off his duties to one of them.

But at the moment, he appeared content to stand there beside me. “Doing okay?” he murmured as the mayor rambled on, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

“A little better. Thanks.”

“Good. Try not to think about . . . you know.” He smiled at me sympathetically. “Hey, remember when Jason Phillips did the honors two years ago?” He chuckled quietly. “He was so terrified of heights that we were all glad there was plenty of snow on the ground in case he fainted and fell off the ladder. I think some of the guys were taking bets on whether he'd make it.”

I smiled at him. I could tell he was trying to keep my spirits up, and I loved him for it.

“I remember,” I said. “Listen, Cam. Thanks again for doing this. I know it was a lot to ask.”

“Not at all.” He reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. “That Charlie guy doesn't know what he's missing.”

“Thanks.” I squeezed back. “Anyway, I'm kind of glad it's you here with me, Cam. It feels right somehow.”

“I know what you mean.” He didn't take his hand away. “It's weird, but I guess I just always assumed we'd be here together this year for you to do this, you know?”

I nodded. “Me too.”

The mayor was winding up his speech
by now. For once, I sort of wished he would ramble on even longer. Cam and I seemed to be making some real progress. Maybe if I could get in a bit more reminiscing time with him before Jaylene showed up . . .

“And so, without further ado,” the mayor announced, “I present this year's Simpson Scholarship winner, Miss Alexis Michaels. Come on up here, Lexi!”

I gave Cam's hand one last squeeze. Then I dropped it and hurried over to the base of the ladder. Everyone was clapping, and I gave a self-conscious little wave before grasping the sides of the ladder. It felt weird to have everyone staring at me. But I tried not to think about that as I got ready to climb. As I lifted my boot to the first rung, I glanced over to make sure Cam was in place. He was standing by the switch box. When he saw me looking, he gave me a smile and a thumbs-up. I waved back. Then I turned, accepted the star from the mayor, and started to climb.

It was a little tricky climbing the ladder while also holding the star, which was about the size of my head—hair and all. Only a few rungs up, I realized that the high-heeled boots had probably been a bad
idea; they got caught up in the rungs with practically every step. But that hardly seemed worth worrying about. My heart felt lighter than it had in weeks as I thought back over my conversation with Cam.

It really does feel right, us being here together,
I thought.
I must have been crazy ever to have thought there were no sparks left between us. He had to be feeling them just now too, right?

Just then I reached the top. Leaning over carefully, I set the star in place on the clip someone had attached to the tip of the tree. A cheer went up from the crowd below, and the Girl Scouts burst into an enthusiastic if slightly ragged rendition of “O Tannenbaum.” Then the lights all over the tree flickered on, bringing more oohs and aahs and cheers from the spectators. I smiled as the newspaper photographer lifted his camera and fiddled with the flash. Cam had done his job.

I glanced down at him. He was still standing by the switch. But this time he wasn't looking at me. He was looking off to the side at . . . Jaylene?

My heart sank like a stone as I saw her appear at the edge of the crowd, leaping giddily through the snow in a pair of ridiculously
inappropriate pumps. She flung herself at Cam, grabbed his face in both hands, and planted a big juicy kiss right on his mouth.

No! I couldn't believe it. It wasn't fair. How could she just run in, kiss him like that, and erase everything that had just happened between us?

I guess I must have sort of lunged toward them. I'm not sure why, except that maybe I thought I could peel them apart or something.

But all I really succeeded in doing was losing my balance, being that I was still at the top of the ladder. Oops.

“Whoa!” I cried, forgetting about Cam and everything else for a second as I felt myself sway. My glove slipped off the side of the ladder, and I flailed helplessly in the air for a moment, probably looking like something out of an old Road Runner cartoon. I tried to catch myself with the other hand, but the damp sole of my boot slipped and the heel got caught up in the rung, throwing me further off balance.

Somehow, I managed to hold on with one gloved hand as I slid partway down the ladder. Cries of alarm and surprise
were rising from the crowd as people started to notice what was happening. But it was too late for anyone to try to catch me, and I couldn't seem to catch myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the photographer snapping away. Bastard.

I closed my eyes as I felt myself lose my grip on the ladder entirely. My whole body tensed, waiting for the impact. When it came, it was softer than expected but very, very cold. Also, very wet.

If several people hadn't rushed over to pull me out, I would have been happy to lie there in that snowdrift forever. Because just at that moment, it seemed significantly better than the alternative.

My embarrassing tumble off the ladder into the snowbank was pretty much the last straw for me. How many times was I going to insist on publicly humiliating myself before I gave up? What was the point? Cam and Jaylene were as tight as ever. If anything, my behavior seemed to be driving them closer together. Cam was probably relieved to finally have a normal girlfriend instead of being stuck with an exhibitionist nut who had no sense of balance.

“But you can't just give up,” Allie insisted as we assembled canapés in my family's kitchen the day after the ceremony.

I shook my head and sighed. “You're such an optimist, Allie. It's sweet. But
come on, we need to be practical. The Ball—and that twelfth date—is only three days away.” I rested my head on my hand. “Maybe this is fate telling me I was right in the first place. I had good reasons for thinking Cam and I should split up, remember? So why am I second-guessing myself now?”

“Because you and Cam belong together!” Allie looked as if she might cry.

I stuck a caper on a piece of frozen shrimp. “That's what I used to think,” I said. “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe we weren't that well-suited after all, and it was just inertia keeping us together all this time.”

Over the next couple of days, my mind kept worrying over that. Cam and I were so different. Everyone had always remarked on that. My friends had always insisted that was a good thing—opposites attract, balancing each other out, and all that. But now I wondered. Were we good for each other?

I was pretty sure that Cam had been good for me. He'd helped me relax and not take myself quite so seriously. He'd showed me how to balance out my natural inclination for hard work with a little fun and
relaxation. But had any of me rubbed off on him?

In any case, I eventually realized that it didn't matter. Whatever our relationship had been in the past, it was naive to think that it could ever be that way again. Too much had happened over the past few months. I'd reached a sort of critical mass of untruthfulness. Even if I could scheme my way into getting us back together, would I really be able to go on knowing how many lies and secrets I was keeping from him? No, I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle that very well at all. Not with Cam, who was honest and sincere to a fault. It would feel almost like cheating on him. So what was the point, really?

The afternoon before Christmas Eve, I was perched on the edge of the tub in Allie's bathroom. I was supposed to be helping her figure out what shoes and accessories to wear with her angel costume, but my mind kept wandering. When she hurried back to her bedroom at one point for another pair of shoes, I found myself staring at the twin sinks in the room. The one on the right was Allie's. It was mostly tidy but completely random,
with not only the usual toiletries occupying its edges but also loose change, several pens and pencils, scrunchies in every imaginable color, and even a paperback book. The other sink was her brother's. It only had a few items sitting on its edges—toothbrush, toothpaste, comb—but it still looked like a mess, encrusted with old smears of Colgate stuck with loose hairs. In my current mood, it seemed like some kind of metaphor. The sinks were paired up, but totally mismatched. Just like me and Cam.

“What about these?” Allie hurried back in wearing a pair of strappy ivory sandals. She stuck out her foot and stared at herself in the full-length mirror that stood between the two sinks. Then she let out a frustrated sigh. “None of these are working at all. I really need some new shoes to go with this costume, but I spent my whole paycheck already.” She glanced at me. “I wish we wore the same size. Those white mules you have would be perfect.”

“Maybe you could stuff the toes with tissue paper or something,” I suggested halfheartedly.

She giggled. “No way! I want to be able
to dance the night away.” She twirled in front of the mirror, making the skirt of her costume flare out.

Her chipper mood was wearing on me a little, though I was trying not to let it show. After all, it wasn't Allie's fault that I was feeling so low. No, the blame for that lay squarely on me, myself, and I.

Allie glanced at me in the mirror. Then she turned around to face me.

“Hey,” she said. “You're wallowing again, aren't you? Stop that. All we need is the right theory, and maybe you and Cam will be together by the end of the Ball tomorrow. Have we talked about the Hot and Cold Theory yet? Or maybe the—”

“Enough with the theories, okay?” I snapped, finally too fed up to hold in my inner grinch any longer. “All this theorizing doesn't seem to have landed you a date to the Ball, so why should I trust it either?”

I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. Like I said, Allie could be awfully sensitive about her love life.

In fact, she looked slightly wounded. “Fine,” she said. “If you don't want my help, just say so.”

“I'm sorry, Allie.” I stood up and took a step toward her, a little sick to my stomach. I wasn't sure I could handle it if I messed up another important relationship in my life right now. “I didn't mean that. It was a rotten thing to say. Please forgive me?”

She hesitated, then shrugged and giggled. “Well, okay,” she exclaimed, grabbing me and hugging me so tightly that it made her angel wings crinkle. “How can I not forgive you? It's Christmas!”

I hugged her back in relief. All the Claus Lake Christmas cheer was obviously going to her head and making her even giddier and happier than usual. I was glad about that, even if I wasn't feeling it at all this year myself.

“Thanks.” I stepped back, and as I smiled at her, I reached a decision. “And listen, I have an idea about your costume. Why don't you scrap the angel thing and wear my Xmas Genie outfit instead? If we roll the hem so the pants aren't too long, it'll look great on you.”

Her eyes lit up with interest. But then she frowned. “Wait,” she said. “If I wear that, then what will you wear? Your reindeer costume?”