Non-Denominational Secret Santas

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Higher Ground characters or locations. The only thing I made up was the plot.

Chapter 8: Scott Barringer

[DAISY]

Scott wasn't quite sure how he'd dig himself out of this one. This was a disaster. His girlfriend believed that he was her Secret Santa, but in truth, he had her best friend. It was enough to give Scott a headache. However, he worried, when she found out, Shelby would likely give him more than a headache.

But before he had to face Shelby, he had to figure out what to get Daisy. Black make-up? No, Peter would confiscate it, and he had no idea how to make make-up. Some book about death? No, that would get confiscated, and he would get shuns.

Scott wandered over to the main lodge. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ezra trip in the snow. Rather than call attention to it, he ignored it entirely. Ezra never appreciated people noticing his clumsy moments.

In the lodge, Scott found that the Sundogs were having group in one corner, David was in an armchair, reading what looked suspiciously like a Playboy tucked inside a thick Dickens novel, and Auggie and Juliette were talking softly by the fire.

Slipping behind the piano, Scott fingered the keys. They were so tangent, so solid. Middle C would always be middle C. A G-major chord was always a G-major chord. Scott smiled to himself. The piano lessons from years before had unconsciously given him a method of grounding himself.

He lifted his hands and laid them lightly against the keys, then he began to play quietly, a slowed-down jazzy piece that always calmed him.

"Pretty good," came a voice from behind him. He jumped and craned his head to see Shelby. She sat next to him on the bench, her back to the piano, leaning back slightly to face Scott.

"Hey Shelb."

Shelby ran a hand down his arm gently. "You know, December twenty-first is coming up."

Now I should tell her, Scott thought to himself. But he couldn't do it. His expression formed into a secretive smile on its own accord, and he said, "Yep, sure is."

Shelby's face broke into such a real smile that Scott was hit by a strong wave of guilt. He berated himself internally but couldn't bring himself to say anything. This meant so much to her.

Instead, he was stuck looking at her with a tight grin on his face, a grin that vanished when he was blinded by a sudden flash. Both he and Shelby started and looked up to see Juliette waving a camera at them.

"Hey, Queenie," Shelby said sweetly, giving the other girl a hard look. "What'd I tell you last time someone saw fit to give you a camera?"

"I don't know," Juliette said, looking a bit unsure.

"Out of my face, or you eat it."

"I don't understand why you always have to act like such a jerk, Shelby." Juliette was obviously offended. "I didn't do anything to you."

"Let's keep it that way," Shelby told her. Frustrated, Juliette left without another word. Shelby turned back to Scott. "Sorry. I think the whole holiday season kinda gets to me, y'know?"

"Like Daisy," Scott said. He caught Shelby's hands and interlaced his fingers with hers. "Sure, I get it. It's a little stressful. Going home and all."

"And Secret Santas."

"Come on," Scott forced a laugh. "You don't need to worry about that." Why didn't I tell her? Why can't I? Why am I lying? I'm just making it worse.

But he saw her face light up again, and he knew why he lied. To make her happy. What a crazy thing love was. After a second, Shelby gave his hand a squeeze and stood up.

"I'll catch you later, Scott," she said. "Have a few chores to do."

"Sure," he replied, and she left with a final grin. His expression melted into a scowl, and he put his fingers back on the piano keys and churned out a perfect, albeit forceful, version of Joplin's The Entertainer.

"Pent-up anger?" Daisy's voice. "Watch out, or your folks'll do something crazy. Like send you to a school for rejects."

"Been there, done that," Scott answered, spinning around on the piano bench to see Daisy standing there, hands on hips, eyebrows raised. "What do you need?"

"Rubber band."

"Oh, like I carry those around." Scott rolled his eyes.

"You never know," Daisy said evenly, turning as if to go.

Scott sighed and reached into his pocket. "It's your lucky day. I actually do have a few. Don't ask."

"Wasn't going to," Daisy answered, taking the proffered rubber bands.

"You're really going to extremes to get rubber."

"I'm going to have to go to even greater extremes to get smoldering tools," she replied flippantly.

Scott laughed. "Hey, sorry about giving you a hard time earlier. On the basketball court."

"You're forgiven." She rolled the rubber band around in her hand. "Nice playing. Too cheery of a tune, but you had a nice edge there. Should fight with Shelby more often." With that, she turned on her heel and left. Where did she get that idea? Was she teasing? Or did she know something? Teasing. Must have been.

"We aren't fighting!" he called after her retreating back for good measure. "Not yet, anyway," he added to himself in a near-whisper. Why did I dig this hole for myself?