Twelve Days of Christmas

Wednesday, December 13th

(Twelve days until Christmas)

Wednesdays were always the crappiest day of the week. Mondays were well acknowledged as the suckiest, the worst possible, the utterly darkest day of the week. Tuesday had little notoriety, and Thursday was the day that dragged, but Wednesday was all of them combined. Halfway through the week, and still half of it to go; a completely interminable cesspool of hell when you were stuck in class at Casper High. There had been a high point, though, Sam thought with a guilty smirk.

Danny'd gotten roped into kicking Youngblood's ass again, and it had robbed him of half his hazmat before he was done. Definitely a high point.

But that had been first period, and there was still the entire day to go. Sam sighed as she tried to snuggle her face into her backpack. It was new, though still a spider, soft and furry and actually a pretty good pillow. (Her old one bit the dust rather spectacularly during the summer, having made it through the entirety of her freshman, sophomore and junior years. She figured that it was fitting to start out her senior year with something new, and yet old.) Sleep was short coming right now, between helping Danny with ghosts, even if he said he didn't need the help, and forcing him to study for finals with her.

It was too cold yet to get a proper nap, even with the layers she was wearing. Tights under her jeans, and long socks doubled up before her boots. An undershirt, a regular shirt, a sweater, and then her jacket. She even had arm warmers on with her hands pulled up inside them as she hid her face from the chilly air. She cursed the school's furnace as it continually failed to start itself leaving her, and every other student in Casper High, freezing.

It was second nature to tune out the announcements that came over the loudspeaker, and no one ever paid attention to the crap that the media crew tried calling a morning show. Well, sometimes people did, but only (much to her disgust) when it was homecoming or prom season. The sheep certainly had to keep up with who was most popular. Sam didn't really care, she was happy being unpopular. It was easier living up to her own expectations that to try and meet everyone else's.

The same mindless drivel that she heard every day was background noise as Sam tried to burrow further into her backpack, the silky faux fur it was made out of tickled her nose as she breathed until she finally lifted her head to slide her arms under with the intention of using them as a pillow. (The plus side was that with her face down, every time she breathed out would send warm air on her very cold hands making the knit warmers actually do their job.)

Well, she intended to, until a man carrying an elegant white box let himself into the classroom, snow melting on his hat, his jacket, and across his boots. His pants were damp to halfway up to his knees, and he had a visitors sticker peeling off of the left sleeve of his jacket. Sam watched curiously as he was stopped by Mrs. Adams. The whispered exchange was drowned out by something about candy canes on sale, some exchange deal that Sam had no intention of participating in, and Sam tilted her head to the side, her lower lip between her teeth as she chewed absently on it.

It surprised Sam when Mrs. Adams shooed the man towards the students, and even more so when Sam realized that the man was headed for her desk, where she was still comfortable sprawled forward, and her backpack was almost warming her neck where the fur was currently tickling at as she watched.

"Samantha Manson?" he asked.

"Sam," she corrected, but nodded blankly as she pulled the backpack into her lap and then let it slide down to the floor when he moved to settle the box in front of her.

He held out a sheaf of paper that was tucked into a clipboard and she signed her name. He wished her a cheery holiday greeting as she stared at the package in front of her, gone from the classroom before she finally looked up, one dark brow arched in… Well, disbelief was a good one to choose. She certainly couldn't believe someone had had something delivered to her. Worry was another, because even if she didn't hear ticking, that didn't mean that it wasn't going to be a problem. Skulker had hundreds of devices that wreaked havoc and none of them ticked.

It certainly didn't help that every single student in the classroom, and Mrs. Adams included, had their eyes glued to her and the box, waiting for her to open it. That certainly explained the flushed heat along her cheeks. Not that Sam ever minded being the center of attention, but usually when she was it was for a better cause than getting some random gift.

"Come on, open it!"

Sam nearly hissed at the too perky voice. Even if Star hadn't been part of the 'A-list' and a cheerleader, Sam would never have become friends with her. The blond girl was just too cheerful for her own good. Especially at Christmas.

Sam just silently complied with the wishes of everyone but herself, not for the first time wishing that she'd been blessed with a last name that would have put her in Danny and Tucker's homeroom. But no, she had to be born a Manson, and the money was nice but being stuck in the same homeroom as Star didn't really make her feel any better.

The box was simple, tasteful. Plain white with a faint cream embossing across its surface, and a pretty gilded bow on top. The bow was tugged off and dropped onto the spider backpack to save it for her scrapbook, then the lid carefully and slowly lifted. There was still no ticking, nor was there the telltale glow of ectoplasm or ectoenergy. But there was the gentle scent of evergreen and rose and the more elusive perfume of lilies.

The rest of the class forgotten, Sam stood, her chair pushed back haphazardly so that she could see inside the box. Flowers. Lots of them. Her jaw dropped.

As she lifted them out, the clear vase cool in her hands, Sam recognized easily each component. The roses were easy enough, even if she weren't so horticulturally minded, the red of their petals a deep velvety color. Tucked in with them were plum colored calla lilies that made Sam smile, surprised. It was seasonal with juniper sprigs and a few expertly trimmed boxwood twigs arranged within, and finished off with red hypericum, the berries reminiscent of mistletoe, but without the stigma.

Even if she had been able to talk Sam wouldn't have been able to answer the pointed questions demanding who sent the gorgeous arrangement to her. Sam had no idea, even as she carefully ran her fingers along the delicate petals of one of the lilies, and then stroked a rose. Though she'd deny it later on (because anyone who knew Star knew that anything the girl saw would be shared with the entire school before the bell rang twice more) she smiled, entranced.

And that was when she saw it, a single square note card, tucked in between a bit of the juniper and hidden behind a calla lily. Sam reached for it, and plucked it out turning it over, and over again. It was blank, nothing written on it save for the picture on the front of a partridge tucked into the boughs of a pear tree, the fruit ripe a golden-green against the plain white paper.

The whispers around her did nothing to help as Sam wondered who had sent the flowers, and god, she wished she was lucky enough to share Danny and tucker's homeroom. At least they'd help her out instead of tossing wolf whistles her way and crude innuendo about secret admirers.

xXx

I doubt this will be done by Christmas (the epic Battle of the Christmas Tree took longer than planned, not to mention the Siege of the Messy House) but I decided to go ahead and start posting it as short chapters as my merry Christmas to all of you. Much love and happy holidays!