365 Days Of Me: January 7 -- Secret Santa

I barely even knew her, and what I did know about her I didn't like, but I drew her name and I was going to take the high road.

I can't remember if the Secret Santa idea what something that class did every year, or if it was just a one time thing, but I knew one thing for certain.  I didn't like the premise at all.  It seemed wrong to me, like when you are mixing ingredients in a bowl and you can tell something isn't right by the way it smelled.  I knew this before I even drew her name.  Once I saw her name on the slip of paper that I drew out of the bowl, I knew that nothing but disaster lay ahead.

While I drew Amanda's name out of the bowl, someone else was drawing mine, and we were to keep our identities a secret until the very last day of the gift exchange, which was also the last day of school before winter break.  We were to get 4 small gifts, and a larger one for the last day, but we weren't supposed to spend more than 10 dollars each day, or 50 dollars total.

I really didn't know if I could get anything at all, with money being so tight at home, and I could tell by the faces of some of the other students with limited funds that they didn't particularly like this game either.

But, if there was one thing you wanted to do when you were in High School, it was to not stick out or cause any trouble.  You just went along with whatever was going and hope for the best.

---

I told my mother about the Secret Santa exchange that very evening, and I could tell that she resented the teacher making this mandatory, no matter how indirectly.  We had been told that it wasn't mandatory, of course, but at the same time, they would do little to prevent the Haves from devouring the Have Nots when it came to the exchange.

I never let my mother know that Amanda, the girl I was supposed to buy gifts for, wasn't my favorite person in the world, because that would only add fuel to the fire that was already burning in her eyes about the whole idea.

Don't stick out.  Don't cause any problems.  Just go along with it.

It was my mantra.

I knew what I wanted to do for Amanda, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.  Somehow my mother came up with the 50 dollars, and I had my stepfather take me to every dollar store we could think of to find the gifts.  As it turned out, my stepdad had to shell out an additional 10 bucks, but these were the days before I came out to my family, so for all he knew, this was a girl I really liked.  

You know, in *that* way.

I took my purchases home, and did my best to wrap them.  With my stepdad's OCD, he would have wrapped for hours and used 9 rolls of scotch tape, and it would have taken a hacksaw just to get it open.  

The following Monday, I took a huge cardboard box filled with the gifts all addressed to Amanda and put them in the designated area in an adjacent room, long before any of my classmates got there.  I was careful not to let my teacher know who had brought the gifts, because I felt that if one person knew, then it was just a matter of time.

Class started and the students were abuzz with talk of the Secret Santa.  Some kids didn't know how to play along, and told the person who they were.  I scoffed at them, resenting them for killing the spirit of the idea.  I still didn't like the idea, but if I was going to go along with it, I might as well get into it somehow.  Some kids couldn't even do that.  What surprised me was that most of the kids who dismissed the spirit of Secret Santa were ones whose family had money to burn. 

I just didn't get that at all.

Monday's exchange was to be held 10 minutes before the end of class, as to not be disruptive.  Class went on as usual, but you could sense the restlessness of the students as the time for the exchange drew closer.

Finally, it was time, and the teacher asked two students to help retrieve Monday's gifts from the designated bin for that day.  We were told to open our gifts at the same time, and no one questioned or argued the fact.

I looked down at my gift, which was rather small, but then again so was Amandas.  It was a box that looked like it might be a 64 box of crayons, but it was neatly wrapped in red wrapping paper with a shiny green bow.

Once all of the gifts were passed out, we could open them. I tried not to dig into mine, and I was about as successful with that as I was at refraining thinking about what it could possibly be.  Not many kids knew me personally in that class, so they wouldn't know what to get me, so the mystery was killing me.

Having finished peeling off the wrapping paper, I was just about to open the box, which was also red, but it was obvious that it had been used before, when I heard an "Awwwww...." sound behind me.  I turned and saw that Amanda had opened her gift and was smiling at it.

Bingo.

She was holding up a small yet adorable little puppy stuffed animal.  It was a two toned brown, with sad eyes and a little red tongue that was sticking out of his smiling mouth.  

There wasn't a day where Amanda wasn't talking about dogs, puppies, and her hopes to be a veterinarian.  It wasn't a great gift, but I seeing her smile at it made me smile too.

I was glad that at least Monday's gift had worked out, and I looked down at my own gift, finally giving in to curiosity.  I opened the box and looked inside.  

I didn't understand.  What kind of a gift was breath mints and deodorant.  I thought maybe someone had accidentally wrapped a travel bag over the weekend, and somewhere, someone's dad had my gift instead of a couple of his toiletries.

I ruled that out as silly. 

The next possibility was that the person who was my Secret Santa simply didn't have any money, and this was all they could afford.  This possibility broke my heart a little, and I began to appreciate the gift, even though it wasn't one I expected.  

It was in that moment I could hear laughter to my left, and I saw two girls and a guy all tittering, laughing and pointing at me as they saw what was in the box.  

Then it hit me.  It was nothing but a cruel joke.  

While behind me, Amanda was thinking up a name for her new "friend", I quietly put away my gift so no one else would see.  Although I showered and brushed my teeth each morning, it wasn't always enough.  I knew that, and apparently so did everyone else.  

I did take comfort in knowing that Amanda loved her gift, though.  She named him Rufus, after her "pest of a little brother".  

---

The next day, Amanda received a slightly larger stuffed animal, this time a cat.  It was completely white with a long curly tail.  She named her "Princess".

I got a roll of toilet paper and a bar of soap.  This time, more kids payed attention when I opened my gift.  Word had spread apparently.

On Wednesday, Amanda opened a gift knowing what she was, getting, but she didn't know what it would be.  This time, it was another dog, but it was a Collie.  The stuffed dog already had a name, "Regal", and Amanda had to ask the teacher what the word meant.  

The teacher said, "Majestic and Royal", which caused Amanda and her friends to "Ahhhh...." with satisfaction.  

My gift was a bottle of lotion.  Apparently someone's mother was going to be very upset at the missing items in the guest bathroom.

Thursday, the pet theme had been broken, and Amanda found herself hugging a cute monkey, who she named "Nanners".  While I dreaded opening my gift, even trying to come up with a way to not open it there in class, I could hear Amanda making Oop and Eep noises behind me.  I turned to look, and saw her hugging the animal, which was an adorable thing to see.  Seeing that gave me the courage to open my gift, and there was giggling before I even opened it.

This time, it was just an envelope.  Inside was 20 dollars in food stamps. 

I didn't even bother to look up to see who laughed this time.  It seemed like it was everyone.  

I heard the teacher asking the class to calm down, and I was startled to discover that she was right behind me.  She asked to see the envelope, and the room went eerily silent.  She looked in the envelope, and gasped, but said nothing.  She just handed the envelope back to me and patted me on the shoulder.  

I got up and left class, as a couple of other students did as well.  I thought about it, and I wondered if maybe this wasn't a cruel joke after all.  While a couple of student might have found the presents funny, maybe the person who gave them were even more embarrassed that it was all he/she had to offer.  I felt shame burn my face as I went to my locker to put my gift away.  There, on the top shelf, were the others, and I pondered even more about whether or not I was being hasty in my judgement.

On Friday, the final day, we were allowed to open our gifts at the beginning of class and have free time for the rest of the period.  If we wanted to reveal ourselves, we could, but it wasn't necessary.  I decided that I would stay anonymous, mostly because I didn't want to embarrass Amanda.  I was the class dork, and she was a pretty, semi-popular girl.  Getting gifts from me would definitely hurt her status, regardless of whether or not it was her fault or not.

Amanda gasped and squealed as she opened up her final gift, which was considerably large.  One large stuffed teddy bear wearing a Xmas hat and was carrying Jingle Bells.  Her friends squealed in delight as she made the bells ring.

"Alright, who was my Secret Santa?" she asked.

I opened my gift, which was a second hand weight loss program paperback, and sighed.  I wasn't going to reveal myself, because in that week I had seen a side of Amanda that was sweet and caring.  She had never done anything to me personally, and I discovered that I had judged her because she was pretty and had friends.  But then I found out that she was kind to animals and had a pretty laugh, and I just wanted to leave well enough alone.  

"C'mon!," Amanda called out, "who is it?"

One of the other girls called out, "You mean, you don't *know*?!?"

My head shot in the direction of the other girl, and mentally begged her not to do this.  There was something in her tone that told me that she knew exactly who Amanda's Secret Santa was, and there was nothing in the world that could stop her from giving out *that* little piece of information.  I wasn't surprised at all to see that it was one of the girls that had been laughing loudest, longest, and the hardest every time I opened a gift.  I should have put that together sooner.

The teacher wasn't in the room, and I wished that she was.  But without anyone there to stop this, all I could do was wait and see what happened.  I hoped that the girl would get it wrong, but I knew she wouldn't.

The girl pointed right at me, and as if in anticipation of that moment, most of the class erupted in laughter.  

"You didn't know that Billy *likes* you?  He smiled at you every time you got a gift!" the girl said, and the class half laughed and half groaned.  

I didn't want to look at Amanda, and I didn't want to ruin the new image I had of her, but it was too late.  There was nothing that could be done for it.  

I turned and looked, expecting to see her embarrassed or disgusted.  But she was neither.

She was enraged.  Her eyes were narrow slits and her lips were pulled thin and almost bloodless.  In that face, I understood that she felt that the class was mocking her as well as me, and that it was my fault.  In those eyes I saw her replay each gift exchange in her mind, now imagining me leering at her, hoping to win her over.  

I stood up, feeling myself being to lose control of my emotions and I went to bolt out of the room.  Twice, I almost tripped and fell but I was too determined to get the hell out of that classroom, so I just stumbled awkwardly.  It was all the same to the class, though, as they laughed as if I had completely busted my ass.

I saw the teacher walking toward the office, probably drawn by the loud laughter in her classroom, but I walked past her.  I never wanted to blame my teachers for the things that happened to me, so I just avoided them so they wouldn't say or do anything to *make* me blame them.

I thought about just leaving the school and never going back.  But I knew that wouldn't happen.  So I just stepped outside into the frigid winter air, hoping that the sudden cold would shock me enough to keep me from crying. 

It didn't work.

---

After the final bell of the day, which I thought would never come, I went to my locker to get my coat.  The hallway was crowded with people milling about, doing the same thing.  There was loud conversation and the sound of lockers opening and slamming shut.  I had almost gotten over the fiasco earlier that day, and I was glad that I had two weeks of time away from school to regroup and maybe even start over. Maybe by then this whole thing would be forgotten.

I'm not really sure when it happened, but when I approached my locker I found 4 stuffed animals in a pile in front of it.  The monkey was missing, but a quick scan of my surroundings revealed that someone had probably kicked it and he was laying against the wall on the other side of the hallway.  

I can't say this surprised me, in fact, I should have expected it.  I thought I was going to cry again, the memory of the mocking laughter coming back in my mind again, but I stifled all thought of that and focused on an idea that was forming in my head.  

I sighed, opened my locker and put away my books.  After closing the locker, I picked up the 4 stuffed animals nearby and then began to walk across the hallway to get the fifth.  A boy mocked me as I tried to walk past him, making a disparaging remark about the stuffed animals.  I ignored it and I got my shoelace stepped on for my trouble.

I got the monkey, who looked sad now that he didn't have anyone to Oop and Eep for him anymore.  I turned and made my way down the hallway to a destination I had only been to once before.

---

The classroom was neat and quiet, the students having already left an hour before the other students.  The only occupant was the teacher, with whom I had only met one other time.  He was a kind man, somewhat tall with a patient voice and the most perfect teeth I had ever seen on a human being.  

"Can I help you, son?" he asked as he saw me standing there, arms full of stuffed animals.

At first, I couldn't think of what to say.  My mind blanked out, having realized that I didn't know how to go about doing this.  What was I going to say?  

"Are you alright?" the teacher asked again, a hint of concern in his voice.

"I....," I began, "I wanted to give these to the class.  One of them is for Christmas, but....."

His brow furrowed and the teacher said, "Were they yours?"

"Yes.  But they are new.  I thought the students here would appreciate them. May I leave them?" I said, feeling very awkward now.

His smile was a bit uncertain, but he said, "Of course.  Thank you."

I put them down by the door, not wanting to go into the classroom for some reason, turned around and left.

---

The first school day of the new year always held an irresistible air of optimism for me.  I had all but convinced myself that no one was going to remember the Secret Santa incident, except for maybe Amanda. I had convinced myself, however, that now that she had rid herself of the stuffed animals, there was no reason to go on.  

The next time I saw Amanda, she ignored me.  Her friends tittered at me, but it was mild, and other than that, there was little incident.  Someone from that class asked me how that deodorant was working, and I didn't bother to look up to see who said it.  For all I knew, it was the person who gave me those cruel gifts, which I had finally admitted really were just that. Cruel.

And just like Amanda, I did *not* want to know who my Secret Santa was.

---

Later that week, in Homeroom, I was given an envelope with my name on it.  On the front, in very neat script, was my name, and my homeroom number.  I opened it, and looked inside.  

I found a thank you note, written in the same neat script as on the front.  I knew for certain it was from the teacher who accepted the stuffed animals two weeks before.

Reading the note confirmed my suspicions, as the note went on to thank me for the stuffed animals which were already getting a lot of love and attention.

I sat there, looking at the note with big tears in my eyes.  For once, didn't care who saw.  At the bottom, up the sides, and even on the back, where the scrawled signatures of every student in that class.  While they were each 16 through 18 years of age, their signatures looked as though they had been written by a small child.  A couple of signatures were just a scribble, while others were letters, but barely legible.  

I looked up at my homeroom teacher, a kind woman who looked ready for retirement, but not just yet, and she was watching me.  She smiled a little, and I knew that she knew what had happened.  It was a smile of approval, but it was discreet.  She had been a teacher for along time, and I'm guessing she knew when not to draw attention to a student. This was my moment, and mine alone.  

I put the paper back in its envelope, tucked it into one of my books, and considered the Secret Santa incident done and over with.  I finally got a gift I was glad to open.  A little late, but I was glad nonetheless.

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