Christmas With You

1. Bah, Humbug!

I can't stand it.

It's in the halls, in the fashion, it's painted all over everyone's faces.  It's everywhere - it's Christmas.

Sighing, I trudge up the steps to school, careful not to slip on the snow that coats them.  I can add that to my list of reasons to hate Christmas - the cold.  Why could Christmas not be in July, or in a month where there's a chance it'll be warm?

This is ridiculous, I think as my eyes glaze over the blur of red and green that is the school corridor.  Kids from the years below mine are buzzing excitedly about this week - it's the last week of term before the Christmas holidays, so the school always goes overboard with decorations and Christmas spirit and all that jazz.  It's the one week of the year that students are allowed to come to lessons in non-uniform - as long as it's in some way Christmassy.

I, however, am wearing black skinny jeans with a band tee and navy Vans.  Bah, Humbug!

By the time I get to my classroom, the first lesson has already started (if you can call sitting around for an hour eating candy canes while watching the Polar Express a 'lesson').  The Grinch Who Stole Christmas is playing on the interactive whiteboard screen that stretches across the wall at the front of the room, and kids in the corner are screeching an out-of-tune version of 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer'.  Unwrapping my green earphones from my phone, I jam them into my ears and start playing 'I Hate Everything About You' by Three Days Grace (that song title essentially summarises all of my feelings towards this season) as I drop my bag next to my desk, sliding onto my seat.  It's too early for jolly songs and cliche films with happy endings; for me, it's always too early for that.

"Holly!"

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing whoever it is to go away.

Suddenly, I feel my earphones being tugged from my ears as someone says my name again.  "Holly Bells."  Yep, that's right: two vaguely Christmassy names for the girl who hates Christmas.  Don't worry, the irony is not lost on me.

Reluctantly, I glance up to find the teacher crouching next to my desk.  "What are you wearing?"

"These?" I narrow my eyes, motioning to what I'm wearing.  "They're called clothes."

The teacher, a preppy redhead who only started at the school this year, brushes her hair behind her ears to reveal Santa Claus earrings, before adjusting her red and green scarf and aiming a pitiful look at me.  "You know it's against the rules to wear non-uniform this week unless it's got something to do with Christmas."

Pressing my lips into a thin line, I hold up the earphones she pulled from my ears a minute ago.  "These are green."

She raises her eyebrows.  Exasperated, I grab lipstick and a mirror from my bag, applying the bright red lipstick.  "Are you happy now?"

The teacher sighs, but stands up and returns to her chair at the front of the room.  I stare at her disbelievingly before snatching my stuff and running into the corridor.  I haven't even been here for five minutes, and I already know I won't be able to stay here.

"What are you doing?" calls a voice as I send a text to my mother, letting her know that I'm coming home.

I don't even bother checking who's talking to me as I answer, "Leaving."  I start down the hallway without so much as a backwards glance, but I freeze as whoever it is circles their hand around my wrist.