Marley had explained to me weeks ago that each teacher decorated their door for the season. The senior class officers judged the designs, awarding first through tenth place titles. While some teachers kept it simple, many took it as a point of pride to get a placement and went full blown HGTV on their doors.
Knowing how much she loved the holidays, it hadn’t surprised me when Marley then mentioned she took the competition seriously and planned to win. I’d responded by vowing to give her a run for her money. My words had been meant mostly as a joke—I could honestly care less about my classroom door—but she’d seemed so delighted by my enthusiasm, I’d felt compelled to follow through.
So, we’d made a side bet. Teachers had the option to perform in the school’s holiday talent show. Most of us knew better than to submit ourselves to potential public humiliation in front of teenagers and thus avoided thisopportunity. Coach Hurley told me the only one who ever took part was Mr. Bailey, who annually treated the student body to his rendition of “Snow.”
Marley and I wagered that whichever one of us placed lower in the door decorating rankings had to participate as well.
Most of the teachers worked on their creations over the weekend. Principal Nadal didn’t necessarily condone all the off-hours labor, but he didn’t fight us on it either. After completing our doors, we were supposed to cover them in brown paper, with the plan being to unveil them on cue Monday morning—a fun tradition to start the first full week in December. The students would roll their eyes and call us corny, but we knew they secretly enjoyed it.
I came in Sunday afternoon to finish. At least a dozen other teachers also showed up. The expectation was to work independently, to keep our eyes on our own doors, but I couldn’t help peeking at my co-workers’ designs. In the classroom next to mine, Mrs. Allen appeared to have covered her door in snowflake wrapping paper and called it a day. Mr. Lemon across the hall tried a little harder, going for a forest scene centered on cut-out animals romping in cotton ball snow.
Still, if their designs indicated the caliber of the competition, I figured I was in the mix to win.
Marley met me in front of my brown paper-covered door Monday morning before school.
“Feeling cocky?” she asked, raising a brow.
“Feeling like you’re going to a holiday rave?” I teased back, pointing at her metallic purple and pink candy cane sweater and matching headband.
She snorted delicately before turning toward her classroom. “You’re going down, Wymack,” she called as she walked away.
“We’ll see,” I replied, smiling at her retreating form.
Our exchange might have been a bit too loud because it attracted the attention of some of my students. They made a point of looking back and forth between me and Marley before smirking.
Great. The kids were as gossipy as the teachers. “Mind your business and get inside,” I told them good-naturedly.
“What? We’re not allowed to ship you and Ms. Davis?” Diane Montoya, one of my juniors, asked with a grin.
“You do realize I can produce pop quizzes on the Persian Empire at a moment’s notice?”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Diane brought her hand to her heart dramatically, drawing giggles from her classmates. “Not right before the holiday.”
“Oh, wouldn’t I? Just call me Scrooge.”
“Sure, Mr. Wymack… Hey, wasn’t his best friend named JacobMarley?”
The students laughed and took their seats as the late bell finally rang, me shaking my head the whole time.
There was a fifteen-minute break between second and third periods. As soon as it began, Principal Nadal came over the loudspeaker to announce that it was time for the teachers to reveal their doors.
I did so slowly and carefully, making a show of it for the students hovering in the hallway.
My design was simple but eye-catching. Silver paper covered the background, and I’d put an enormous Christmas tree on top. But I hadn’t just used green construction paper or felt. I’d cut the shape out of one-and-a-half-inch thick turf. So not only was the tree massive, it was also three-dimensional, puffing out proudly from my classroom doorway. Two strands of battery-powered lights outlined it. Ornaments, tinsel, and ribbons decorated the branches. It could be seen sparkling from halfway down the hall. After pulling down the paper, I pinned on the finishing touch—a gold star tree topper. Then I leaned back to survey the result. Folding my arms, I smiled proudly. Even if I didn’t win, I’d certainly made a worthy effort.
Feeling satisfied that everything looked straight and would stay tacked up, I walked around to view the other teachers’ creations.
My first destination was Marley’s classroom, our wager on my mind.
As soon as I reached it, I knew I’d been had.
I could only hope that the talent show audience would appreciate my juggling skills.
Ms. Allen saw me first, and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing at my expression, stifling the noise with her fist. “We’re sorry. When Marley and you made that bet, I should have warned you she was a ringer, but I kind of wanted to see this look on your face.”
I stood there, mouth agape, lips in an O like I was sucking on a straw that wasn’t there.
Because Marley’s entire door was a snow globe.
