Read Online Sock it to Me, Santa! by Madison Parker - Free Book Online Page A

wasn’t causing too much trouble. I guess it wasn’t worth the hassle to argue with him. They couldn’t really make him participate. If he wanted to flunk out, that was his business. Still, I wondered what he would’ve said if he had gone along with the toilet paper game. Or any of the other stupid things Mrs. Keats made us do.
    Not only were her activities embarrassing, they were also ineffective. It was December, and the only person I really knew in my advisory was Mike. And that’s only because we both ran cross country. Unfortunately, I was also the only person Mike knew. That meant he always came and sat next to me in advisory. Every Friday morning I had to listen to him rant about his ex-girlfriend, Stacey. I can’t say I blame her for breaking up with him. He used to talk smack about her all the time when they were dating. It kinda got on my nerves, but whenever I’d say something about it, he’d tell me I’d understand one day, when I had a girlfriend of my own.
    At times I was tempted to tell him that would never happen, that I wasn’t into girls like that. But Mike’s not the kind of guy I’d want to confide in. I don’t think it would go over well. Thankfully he didn’t give me a hard time about not having a girlfriend. Most people either didn’t notice or didn’t care. If someone asked, I’d say I couldn’t afford to date and that having a girlfriend would interfere with my gaming addiction. It seemed to work. Sure, I was called a fag or a loser from time to time, but that was just guy talk. I got called a faggot more times while playing video games online than I ever did in real life. When you’re a gamer, being heckled by your opponent goes with the territory. I wasn’t addicted to gaming like some people were. It was just something to do when I was bored, which was most of the time. And it was my one social outlet with other guys. I played up my love of gaming, though, to keep Mike and others off my back. When he started dating Stacey, he was almost never online anymore, so he couldn’t argue with my logic.
    “Hey, if I get Amber, I’ll trade with you, okay?” Mike said. “I don’t really care who I get as long as it’s not Jamie.” He shuddered.
    We both glanced over at Jamie Peterson. He was sitting in a huddle with two girls, flipping through a magazine. Jamie was always hanging with girls. I doubt he had any guy friends. If there was such a thing as cooties, Jamie had them. And they were highly contagious. Any guy seen talking to Jamie — or standing too close, for that matter — might as well kiss his social life goodbye.  
    I’d been lurking around the Internet long enough to know Jamie was what they called an “emo twink.” He didn’t dye his hair black or have his face pierced, but otherwise he fit the stereotype. He wore eyeliner sometimes and painted his nails. His tight clothing hugged his small, skinny frame, and he loaded up on so many accessories, some days he actually jingled when he walked.
    “I’m not buying a Christmas present for a fag,” Mike said.
    I inwardly cringed at his remark, but let it pass. “You mean make.”
    “What?”  
    “You have to make the presents,” I said. “One a week for the next three weeks. Weren’t you listening? We’re not supposed to spend more than $10 on supplies.”
    “Whatever,” Mike said, waving his hand. “I’ll make a trip to the grocery store and buy some candy or something.”  
    “And you’re not supposed to call it a Christmas present. It’s a ‘winter gift of cheer,’” I said with an over-exaggerated smile. We both laughed.
    Mrs. Keats walked around the room with her “holiday jar” filled with slips of paper. Mike reached in and pulled out a name, then waited for me to do the same.  
    “I got Louis,” he said. “Who’d you get?”
    I tried to remain expressionless as I stared at the name on my slip of paper: Jamie Peterson.
    I stuffed the paper in my front pocket. “It’s a secret.”