Too long to really consider.
So I make another mental list, this one consisting of the people who would be determined to keep me here, who benefit merely by knowing me, who not only had access to my room but might even know what to look for.
Which narrows it down to…everyone. But since Tinsley got an earful out by my pool, maybe she’s the top suspect?
Ezer shouts again, becoming really impatient, as Sparks grabs hold of my arm, pulls me to my feet, and pushes me toward the house, where Ezer and Tinsley are waiting.
4 Hours, 14 Minutes, and 28 Seconds till Christmas
SURPRISED FACE
I reach the front door, and Ezer says, “Nick—what gives? I called you countless times, Sparks too, but neither of you had the decency to answer. You’d think you could at least save this kind of behavior for your break, which starts tomorrow, by the way. Is that too much to ask?”
No matter how worked up he gets, his voice is just noise in my head. I’m too busy gaping at the HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NICK! banner hanging overhead. Not to mention the Christmas decorations, and the cast, crew, and cameras all standing by, ready to shoot.
Ezer set me up!
And Sparks helped him.
But he also helped me by pointing out the missing ticket and bringing me here for a chance to retrieve it.
All I know for sure is that the Twelve Days of Dashaway Christmas Countdown finale is being shot here.
Which means either that Ezer wasn’t one bit fooled by our conversation by the pool or that Tinsley told him everything I was dumb enough to tell her, or both.
In the end it doesn’t matter how he knew. He’s been pulling the strings all along. Probably has my ticket hidden in his pocket, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not like I can tackle him to the ground and demand that he return it. I bet he has a whole security team waiting for me to try.
“So!” He slaps a hand to my back, using more force than necessary. “Bet you thought we forgot your birthday in all the excitement.” His grin is so tight and wide it reminds me of a cartoon shark zeroing in on its prey. “That’s why we changed the location—we wanted to surprise you. We’re set for one heck of a party to celebrate you, Nick! But first—what’s this you’re wearing?”
He pinches my sleeve between his index finger and thumb as I gaze down at the hoodie I grabbed in a hurry. Same hoodie I was wearing under the Christmas sweater when I first arrived here. The faded blue one with Greentree M.S. written in yellow script along the right side.
He squints. Probably trying to figure out the best way to tell me to change, that the color washes me out or doesn’t play well on TV—the usual excuses when he doesn’t like what I’m wearing.
“I have no idea where you found it,” he says, “but it works! It’s old school. Random. Doesn’t look overly stylized, like you’re trying too hard. You’re just teenage Nick Dashaway walking into your surprise party. A hoodie like that says you don’t take yourself too seriously. You don’t feel the need to overdo it every time you leave your house. It’s like giving the viewer an insider’s look at the real you. It’s genius, I tell you! Nothing phonier than some celebrity visiting a friend wearing a tuxedo and bow tie.”
I nod. Shrug. I had no idea a single hoodie could convey all of that.
He continues to study me with a deepening gaze. “You know, my first reaction was to tell you to change. But sometimes it’s good to take a step back and look at things from a whole new perspective. Oftentimes you’ll find that the things that once bothered you aren’t nearly as bad as you think. In fact, once we get past our initial resistance, we’re able to see that our situation may actually be a whole lot better than we originally thought. So much so that we would never consider going back to doing things the old way. Know what I mean?”
All I know for sure is that at some point this conversation switched from being about the hoodie to being about me. I nod, willing to agree to just about anything until I can get my hands on that ticket and get the heck out of here.
“Why don’t you go on over to hair and makeup so we can get ready to roll. Then head back outside and ring the bell. And this time, when we jump out and shout, ‘Surprise!’ I want you to look as shocked as you did when you first arrived.”
Back when I was eleven and three quarters and about to start my first year of middle school, my dad warned me about the absolute foolishness of assuming.
“Never assume you know what another person is thinking or feeling,” he said. “Bullies bully not because they feel strong but because they feel powerless inside. And the people you view as popular don’t have perfect, problem-free lives. Nobody does.”