How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

With boxes full of lights, the boys drive home feeling bold,

ready to hang more lights despite the frigid cold.

But then they arrive, at a scene they weren’t expecting in the least.

It seems as though all the Christmas decorations have been fleeced.

“Do you think we should have gone with the red?” I ask Max as we drive toward my house with a plan to update the light display. “Do you think it’s going to be too much green?”

Max shakes his head. “No, I think it will be cohesive, and then we’ll add the red to the porch to break it up. I think it’s genius.”

After we got in trouble with Mr. Maxheimer for being “nimrods,” we turned on the flashlight on Max’s phone, connected our blow-up mattresses so we could whisper, and we devised a plan on how to win the entire competition. Then this morning after a plentiful breakfast from Mrs. Maxheimer, we headed to the hardware store, grabbed some extra things we needed, and are now headed to the house.

“Genius. Okay, yeah.”

“Also, the light-up presents we got to line the front of the yard are a great addition.”

“I can’t believe your dad had those out in the barn and never said anything to us,” I say.

“Maybe he knew we had to make improvements, so he held out…” Max trails off as we turn onto Whistler Lane. “What…the…fuck?”

“What?” I ask, looking over at Max as he slows down his truck.

“Cole, your house.” He points.

“What about it?” I say as I look out the windshield only to find my house completely dark, stripped of its lights.

Every last one of them.

Not a single light left, just some wires and nails hanging in plain sight.

It’s…it’s bare.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Holy…fuck,” I say as Max parks on the side of the street. We bolt out of the truck and examine what has occurred.

All the lights are gone.

Nothing on the roof. Nothing on the porch, not even a bare strand hanging from the door. It was all removed, every single bulb.

Every decoration.

“Who…how…” I stutter, unsure of what to say. “I…I don’t get it.”

Hands on his hips, Max surveys my yard, the porch, the roof, and as he makes his way around to the side, he pauses and then slowly turns toward me.

“A ladder and footprints.”

“Where?” I say, jogging up to him.

Max points at a ladder that stretches up to the short pitch of the roof and then to footprints that lead from the ladder all the way to Cindy’s house.

“No fucking way,” I say as my eyes land on the pink house. “There’s no way.” I shake my head, not willing to believe it.

“Cole,” Max says softly. “It has to be.”

“But…but why?” I ask, pushing my hands through my hair. “There’s no reason.”

“Except that this will guarantee you last place in the light display, and they know how close you are to winning the whole thing.”

I shake my head and search the yard for more tracks, for any indication that this could have been someone else, but when I come up short, when I don’t see one single thing, my heart starts to seize and panic ensues.

“It can’t be. She wouldn’t. I…I don’t think she’d do that.”

“I know this is hard for you to accept, Cole, but I think she would.”

I turn toward my best friend. “You really think she would be that heartless? That she’d fuck with my head? Pretend to like me and just screw me over in the end?”

“You were the first one to take the shot. What would stop her from taking it further?”

I look over at the house again, a darkness starting to creep over me as my mind drifts to a place I didn’t think it would ever go, not with her, but I can’t stop it.

The idea of her taking advantage, of her pretending the entire time, I can’t write it off.

“But maybe,” I say, my throat growing tight, “maybe it was someone else.”

“Who?” Max asks, throwing his arms up.

“Jimmy?” I say, hoping that’s an option.

Max shakes his head. “He was out all last night at Prancer’s getting toasted. My mom heard it from Frank this morning. There’s no way he could climb the ladder intoxicated. Not to mention, look at the footprints, man. That’s all the evidence you need, and there isn’t a footprint leading from the sidewalk to Cindy’s house either, in case someone was trying to frame them. This was Storee. Remember what she did with the lights last time? This…this was all Storee.”

“Fuck,” I say as I grip my forehead, my stomach turning queasy immediately. “I thought…hell, I thought she liked me. But this?” I gesture to the house. “Fuck, I guess I was completely wrong. I guess she was just pretending, just using me this entire time.” I swallow back my emotion, trying to find a place within me where I don’t care. Where I don’t mind that she just about ripped my heart out in one night.

But it’s hard.

And I don’t handle my emotions well.

My anger.

The grief in my life.

And before I can stop myself, I storm up to the pink house, Max trailing behind me. I pound on the front door with my fist and wait.

It takes a few minutes, but when the door opens and Storee’s face comes into view, I feel a wave of emotion hit me all at once.

I…I like her.

Hell, I more than like her.

I think I love her.

Yet to her, I was just a chess piece to be moved for her benefit.

She was using me.

Abusing my heart.

And then she just took everything she wanted and needed, leaving me feeling…fucking shattered.

“Cole…what are you doing here?”

I feel my body go still.

My throat clamps down on me.

Thankfully, Max presses his hand to my shoulder. “Cole’s been through a lot, Storee. More than any person should ever have to go through, and for you to just use him like that, to play with his emotions, and then when you think the time is right, strike, well…it’s all kinds of fucked up.”

Her brow creases, and she looks toward me. “What is he talking about?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “The house, Storee.”

“What about it?”

“The fucking lights!” I shout, startling her backward. “Don’t play dumb with me. You took them down last night because you were so fucking scared you weren’t going to win. You snuck out and stole them. You fucking used me this whole time, faked it, made me believe that there was something between us, only to sabotage me in the end.” I shake my head. “Who the fuck does that? What kind of heartless human are you?”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” I say with a sarcastic laugh. “Play dumb, Storee. You’ve been so good at it so far, acting like you have no idea what you’re doing in this competition, in this town, all to gain sympathy from me. Well, it worked.” I slow clap in front of her. “It fucking worked, and now you can revel in your accomplishment because I’m done.”

I turn away from her and start walking off the porch when I feel her tug on my arm.

“Hold on,” she says. “Cole, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Stop,” I yell, my voice echoing through the quiet cul-de-sac. I tear my arm away from her and stomp toward the steps. “Just fucking stop. I can’t…I can’t be near you.”

Max throws his arm over my shoulders, and together we head down the steps, across the snow, and right into my house, shutting her out.

Shutting out everything.

Storee

I stand there, stunned.

Confused.

Hurt.

I look over at Cole’s house and gasp. Not a single light strand is on display. Not on the roof, not on the porch, not even around the windows. It’s all gone.

And he thinks I did it.

He thinks I used him.

That I tricked him.

That these strong, intense feelings I have for him were all made up and that I was playing him the whole time.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

“What’s going on?” I hear Aunt Cindy say as she walks up to the front door. “I heard yelling.”

I sniff, my emotions getting the best of me as I turn on my heel and head back into the house, away from the cold.

When I move past Aunt Cindy, she says in a worried tone, “Storeebook, what’s happening?”

I take a seat on the stairs and bury my head in my hands as tears sting my eyes.

“Storee,” Aunt Cindy repeats as she stands in front of me, tapping her cane. “Why was there yelling?”

“There was yelling?” Taran says from the top of the stairs.

“Yes, I think it was Cole and Atlas,” Aunt Cindy says. “But I don’t know why they would be yelling at Storee. Did you two have a lovers’ quarrel?”

“Aunt Cindy, they weren’t really lovers. You know that, right?” Taran heads down the stairs and stops in front of me. “Wait, are you crying?”

I shudder, a sob coming out of me before I can stop it.

“You are.” Taran sits next to me on the stairs, removes my hands, and forces me to look at her. “Why are you crying?”

“Because,” I say, the lump in my throat making it incredibly hard to speak, “I…I think…I think I love him.”

“What?” Taran nearly shouts and shakes her head. “Storee, I know he was playing you, but you can’t possibly—”

“Playing me?” I ask as I wipe my hand over my cheek. “What are you talking about?”

She sighs, then takes my hand in hers. “I know this is going to be hard to understand given the state that you’re in, but he didn’t really like you. This whole relationship thing, it was a distraction so he could take the lead in the Kringle competition. And I don’t blame—”

“This isn’t about the stupid Kringle competition,” I say. “This is about me and Cole. We…we’ve been seeing each other.”

“Yes, I know,” Taran says.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Aunt Cindy joins in.

“It’s simple,” Taran explains. “Cole was worried that he was going to lose the competition against us, so he made Storee fall for him, and apparently she did, but it wasn’t because he liked her—”

“Yes, it was,” I insist.

Taran gives me one of those smiles that says she feels bad for me. “Storee, it was all pretend for him.”

“It wasn’t,” I say as I wipe my eyes. “It was real. Everything about it was real.”

“No, Storee, he took advantage of the crush you’ve had on him for years.”

“No, Taran,” I shout. “He didn’t. I know what I experienced with him these past weeks, and I saw the pain in his eyes when he came over here, blaming me for what happened to his house.”

“What happened to his house?” Aunt Cindy asks.

I’m about to answer when Taran says, “I took down his lights.”

“You did it?” I ask, turning to her. “You were the one who took down his lights?”

“Yes, I was. I did it for you.”

“Why on earth would you do that?” I shout.

“Because he was using you.”

“No, he wasn’t!” I shout again as tears stream down my face. “He wasn’t, Taran. God, I can’t believe you did this. That you would stoop so low as to hurt someone like that. This…this is the first Christmas he’s actually celebrated since his parents passed, and you…you went and ruined that. You took that away from him. Took away the joy, made him believe that the person who was falling for him betrayed him in the worst way possible.” Taran leans back, stunned. “He by no means was using me. He by no means was trying to take advantage of me. He helped me at points, he was my rock through these past few competitions, and he made me realize that I could step past my fears and tackle big things. And you…and you went and ruined that.” I wipe away my tears. “I have to talk to him.”

I slip on my boots and head out of the house just as Atlas and Cole get into Atlas’s truck.

“Hold on,” I call, holding my hand up and hurrying toward them. They both look at me, and I can see Atlas say something to him. Cole shakes his head, and then without another word, Atlas starts the truck and pulls into the road.

No.

I look over at his house. His plain, unlit house.

How…

How could she have done this?

“Storee,” Aunt Cindy calls. “Come back inside.”

“No,” I say as the chill creeps over me. “Taran, where did you put them?” I’m loud enough that I have no doubt the entire neighborhood will be outside in seconds.

Taran steps into the doorframe. “Storee, it’s freezing—”

“Where did you put them?” I repeat, feeling crazed. “Tell me now, Taran.”

She sighs. “The trash.”

I march away from Aunt Cindy’s house and toward Cole’s side yard, where I spot his trash cans. I pop the lid off one of them, and lo and behold, it’s full of lights.

I’m still in my pajamas, but I don’t care. Adrenaline fuels me as I start pulling out the strands and untangling them in the process.

“Storee, what are you going to do?” Taran says hurrying up behind me.

“Put them back on his house.”

“You can’t possibly do that all by yourself.”

“You’re right,” I say as I swipe at my nose, the cold air making my nose run. “I’m going to need help.”

I bypass my sister and walk across the street, straight to Martha and Mae’s house. I head up their porch and press on their doorbell.

Not once.

Not twice.

But three times.

And when they don’t answer after five seconds, I do it again.

Over and over until the door unlocks and opens, Martha standing in her robe and bonnet on the other side.

“My goodness,” she says as she adjusts her glasses on her nose. “What on earth are you doing, Storee?”

“I need your help,” I say.

“With what?”

“With Cole’s house. It’s a long story, but I need help putting his lights back up, and we need to do it before Paula and Peach come around for the final judging tonight.”

“Why are his lights down?”

“Please, Martha,” I beg. “Please don’t ask questions. Please just help me. I need you to round up everyone you can. We need to put the lights back up.” A tear rolls down my cheek. “Please, Martha.”

“Okay, dear. Okay.” She takes my hand in hers. “We will get the lights back up. You can count on me.”

I stand in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My bloodshot eyes are evidence of the tears I’ve been shedding since this morning.

The downturn of my lips a reminder of the dread I feel in the pit of my stomach that I can’t seem to shake.

And the slouch in my shoulders signals a white flag of defeat.

Because how on earth will he forgive me?

Not that I did anything wrong. Quite the opposite, actually. I’ve been trying to figure out how to grow what we have, not tear it down.

But that look on his face.

The anger in his eyes.

Even with the idea I’ve formed, I’m not sure it will be enough.

I wet a washcloth and wipe down my face, trying to rid it of the tear stains.

From the bathroom, I can hear the sounds outside, putting my plan into action. The muffled nailing, the commands from Martha and Mae, it’s all there, but will it be enough?

Does it matter?

Even if this doesn’t work, if he doesn’t believe me, if he doesn’t want anything to do with me, this is about making it right.

The end goal? To make sure Cole knows I would never hurt him. But even if he doesn’t trust me anymore, I at least need to make my sister’s wrongdoing right.

Knock. Knock.

I glance toward the door and ask, “Who is it?”

“Me, Storeebook,” Aunt Cindy says in a worried voice. “I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” I say, the lie flying out before I can even think about it.

“Are you sure? You seemed very upset, and rightfully so.”

I am upset.

He’s hurt.

The man that I’m…oh God, the man that I’m falling for is hurt, and that hurts me.

That upsets me.

That makes me want to sink to the floor and cry some more.

Because…he just started loving Christmas again, and then this had to happen?

“It’s fine, Aunt Cindy.”

There’s silence on the other side and then the doorknob twists. “I’m coming in. Cover up.”

“Aunt Cindy, I said it’s fine,” I say as she opens the door, her hand covering her eyes.

She leans against the doorframe. “Are you decent?”

“Yes,” I reply, exasperated, as I turn toward her, arms crossed, trying to put on a good front.

She doesn’t say anything at first but instead uncovers her eyes and looks me up and down, studying me, clearly waiting for me to burst into tears.

I want to.

I want to break.

I want to show her how sad I am.

But that will do nothing.

It won’t solve the problem, so I hold strong.

“You don’t look like everything is fine.”

I feel a sting in my eyes.

“Well, it is.” I lean against the counter and look down at the floor, not wanting to see the sadness in her eyes.

“Storee, talk to me.”

“I said it’s fine,” I repeat, slightly more aggressively as tears sting my eyes now.

“Storee—”

“Aunt Cindy,” I say, looking up at her through watery eyes. A tear slides down my cheek. “We have a plan. It will be okay.”

“Storee, come here.”

I hold up my hand, not wanting her to come closer. I then swipe at my tears and blow out a heavy breath. “Please, I need to get changed so I can help out. I don’t want to talk about this, not right now. I just need to…I need to fix it, okay?”

She slowly nods, understanding washing over her face. “I understand. But I would like to say, for what it’s worth, what you’re doing…it will work, Storee. I know this boy and I know his heart well enough from observing him over the years. This will work.”

My lips tremble as I look away from her and say, “I can only hope so.”