I loved my sisters so much. “I think I understand. I want to.”
“But Marley?” Miranda piped in.
“Hmm?”
“Let’s go watch James juggle first.”
Chapter twenty
James
Bysixthirty,itwas standing room only in the school’s massive auditorium. When Marley and I had planned the scavenger hunt back in October, she’d told me the story of how one of the town’s wealthier citizens had gifted the money to the district to build it thirty years ago. Gordon Mumford had loved attending the talent show when it had been a cramped affair in the gym. He’d gone every year, even after his own kids graduated, and had wanted to ensure there was a space large enough where everyone who wanted to go could do so.
Knowing that bit of history gave me courage. I was learning about this town. Becoming a part of it. I might be the only guy over the age of twenty-five who wore skinny jeans, and I would definitely need to tone down the cursing, but I felt like I belonged here.
Principal Nadal came to the microphone. “Please disengage from your current conversations and take your seats. We are delighted to commence our entertainment and ask that you give our performers the respectful attention they deserve.”
The audience quieted and faced the front of the room in cheerful unison.
Mr. Bailey stood onstage in a Santa hat and snowflake sweatshirt. That image had not been on my Coleman Creek Bingo card, but I didn’t hate it. The background music for “Snow” came through the speakers and he walked up to the microphone, body stiff and unyielding. A moment later, his arms rose, and he projected the first notes of the song into the audience.
Good lord.
While I’d heard that Mr. Bailey always performed in the show, everyone had failed to mention that the man possessed the voice of an angel. An angel that sounded like Christmas—like Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole and Elvis and Andy Williams all rolled into one. The song traditionally had a four-part harmony, but he somehow sang his own version in a low baritone that captured both the joy and the yearning in the melody.
When he finished, he removed the Santa hat—glaring at it as though wondering how it had landed on his head—and made a stilted bow in the general direction of the packed seats. Applause erupted from the crowd.
Hopefully, his phenomenal opening number boded well for the rest of the acts. I’d previously spoken to Principal Nadal about going toward the end of the program. He’d informed me less than an hour ago that my performance would actually close the show.
Winking at me, he’d added, “I am truly sorry, Mr. Wymack, about the budget. You have been a positive and welcome addition to our teaching community. This feels like the least I can do to thank you. And even though what you have orchestrated is rather unorthodox, especially with students in attendance, what better time to believe in the power of love than Christmas? I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed that you get your holiday wish.”
Jeez. Thanks man. No pressure or anything.But he had a point about the power of the season. I’d take all the Christmas mojo I could get.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and glanced at it for the millionth time that evening. Still nothing from Kasen. I’d been hoping he’d come through, but I supposed it had been a long shot. No matter. I felt satisfied with what I’d come up with. Kasen would have been a cherry on the sundae, but I understood.
Fel Torres and some guys from the football team were doing what looked like a choreographed gymnastics routine to Chuck Berry’s “Run Rudolph Run.” It was mainly an opportunity for them to show off their ability to do flips and one-armed push-ups in unison. Still, the crowd seemed into it. A loud chorus of cheers followed them as they came off the stage.
Fel caught my gaze as he exited the side stairwell, upnodding me. I had to admit he’d been cool to Daniel since the tree lot incident, and not just because Nan had taken the younger teen under her wing. I chose to believe Fel had listened to at least some of what I’d said to him and taken it to heart. It was good to realize that even though my time at Coleman Creek would be short, I’d been able to make some small impact. Travis had already assured me he’d be the advisor for the student groups I’d sponsored this year—D&D Club was up to twenty members—and I knew Marley would keep an eye on Daniel and some of the other struggling students.
I looked out into the audience from behind the curtain and saw Marley sitting near the front with her sisters. Thank goodness Maureen and I had exchanged phone numbers last weekend. Clearly, she’d gotten my text from a few hours ago because they were in the perfect position for viewing the projector screen. I pulled out my phone to message her.
ME:I see where you are sitting. Glad that worked out *thumbs up emoji*
MAUREEN:I had to push some teenagers out of the way, so you better make it worth the trouble.
ME:That’s the plan.
MAUREEN:*red heart emoji*
My attention drew back to the stage. I startled at seeing Daniel sitting on a stool, holding an acoustic guitar. Nan, Penny, and a few of the other senior girls, wearing short dresses with candy canes on them, made a horseshoe shape around him. He glanced back nervously at Nan.
She whispered to him, “You’re so talented. They’ll love it.”
Daniel nodded and turned back toward the crowd. Steeling himself, he lifted the guitar to his knee and began playing a gorgeous medley of classic carols. The familiar notes of “Greensleeves” were followed by those of “Good King Wenceslas,” and then “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” During the songs, Nan and her friends occasionally harmonized with “oohs” and “mmms,” but it was Daniel’s elegant playing that caused a hush to fall over the crowd. Shockingly, he played almost the entire piece with his eyes shut, dealing with his obvious nerves by surrendering to the music.
When he was done, he pulled the stool to the side while the girls stayed on stage and did a dance routine to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.” Not an unexpected choice, but still enjoyable. Especially with Daniel adding to the soundtrack with his guitar from stage right.
“That number turned out great,” I complimented them as they left the stage.
