Chapter 2--A Question Of Punch
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The radio on Jim's desk warned, "And we're looking at some heavy snow for the Triad tonight; tempertaure currently thirty degrees..."
"She knew I had the sausage box. I know she knew it!" Jim yanked a comb through his brown hair as he fumed.
"Jim! Dinner's getting cold!" Sarah yelled from downstairs.
"Gimme a minute!" Jim shouted back through his open bedroom door. He sat down on his bed and wondered: How was he going to get that sausage box back? Maybe he could just grab it and race back to his room before he came to the dinner table. But if Amelia caught him with it...he shuddered at the possibilities. Well, he would just have to bide his time.
The teenager stood up and stared carefully at his reflection in the full mirror on his bedroom door. He couldn't afford to look stupid right now, especially since Sarah had invited Kenzie to dinner. Kenzie was the pretty, new waitress at the Benbow Inn; and Sarah, convinced that the girl's polite smiles at Jim were her way of flirting, had insisted that she share Christmas dinner with them. This was not the first time she'd invited a girl over for Christmas. She was always trying to set her son up with girls. But this time, since Jim thought Kenzie was pretty cool, he didn't resent it. He just hoped she wouldn't notice his snowman socks.
"Jim!" Sarah railed from downstairs.
"Okay, okay!" Jim gave his hair one last swipe with the comb, and raced for the stairs. He didn't notice a skateboard perched on the top step, though. A few seconds later, he lay dizzy and sore at the bottom of the staircase, with the skateboard on his head.
"Owww," he groaned.
"Perhaps you'll be more careful of where you place things in the future, James," a dreaded voice said. Jim glared up at Captain Amelia, who stood gloating over him.
"Shut up, you old broad." Jim sat up and tossed the skateboard aside.
Captain Amelia leaned down and said, "Well, since I've got you here, perhaps you can take a look at my car. I think there's something wrong with the gas tank, sir." Her gloat widened into an evil smile.
Jim narrowed his blue eyes at her. "Well, two can play at this game, ma'am."
"Dinner's getting cold!" Sarah called for the millionth time.
The enemies quickly moved for the dining room. Nobody saw Jim grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the bathroom en route.
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Well, so much for dinner getting cold. Now it was to get even colder, since Sarah insisted on enforcing another Christmas tradition. This time, everybody was to stand up, list all the things they were thankful for, lead the guests in a Christmas song, and drink their health. Jim still wasn't sure how drinking punch would ensure well-being, but whatever.
Sarah made her emotional speech first, as she was at the head of the table. The speeches would then proceed clockwise around the table. But while Sarah sobbed and yammered about Christmas spirit and Barney the Dinosaur, Jim slowly screwed the cap off his bottle of rubbing alcohol. During a high point in Sarah's speech, in which she turned her back, Jim splashed some alcohol into the punchbowl. He, Sarah, Delbert, and Kenzie had already served themselves some punch, so Captain Amelia was going to get it.
Jim then turned his attention to embarrassment, as Sarah stood up on her chair and sang, "My Grown-Up Christmas List." When the song was finally finished, he slammed his head down on the table as Delbert, Captain Amelia, and Kenzie applauded.
"Thank you, Sarah. Most inspiring," Delbert muttered as he stood up, punch in hand. "Ah, let's see. I am thankful for my wife, my friends, and science."
Jim smirked. Yeah, trust him.
Delbert hurriedly sang a verse of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer", accompanied by his musical antlers. Then he drained his punch. When that was finally over, Captain Amelia stood up and reached for the punchbowl.
Jim bit his lip.
"Oh! Oh, dear," Captain Amelia said as, with an almost invisible flick of her wrist, she toppled Jim's glass of punch. "I'm sorry, Sarah; I'll clean it up."
"Okay. Paper towels are on the counter in the kitchen," Sarah replied.
Jim stared helplessly at the red, un-spiked punch flooding the tablecloth. "Great," he mumbled.
"Mrs. Hawkins?" Kenzie spoke up. "I can make my speech now, if you want."
Sarah smiled. "Why, of course, Kenzie; go right ahead."
Kenzie carefully stood, taking her punch. "I'm thankful for Christmas, and my new job here, and my family, and--" Here she leveled her brown eyes at Jim. "--my friends."
Jim stared stupidly back at her, temporarily forgetting his punch dilemma.
"Do you want to sing?" Sarah asked.
Kenzie shrugged her thin shoulders. "Sure."
"It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold..."
Jim felt his knees go slack.
When Captain Amelia had cleaned her "accident" up, and Kenzie had taken her seat, Jim's mind turned back to the problem at hand. Maybe he could just get away with drinking their health with water?
"Perhaps you would like to go first, James?" he heard Captain Amelia say.
Jim froze. "N-now?"
"Yes, Jim, go ahead," Sarah agreed.
"Uh..." Jim stood up and grabbed his glass of water.
Sarah shook her head. "No, no, take punch. You don't drink health with water."
Jim felt his insides quivering as he ladled some punch into a plastic cup. Then he stood there, holding it up.
"What are you thankful for?" Sarah prodded.
Jim noticed Kenzie smiling at him, and suddenly wished she were a mile away.
"Uh, I'm thankful for...Christmas presents, the grass, pie, my fingernails," Jim stammered, rattling off the first things that came to mind. He saw Sarah's motherly glare and amended the list. "I mean--my family, my friends, school..."
Captain Amelia was smirking at him. He glanced down at her hands--and saw his bottle of rubbing alcohol.
Oh, man, this sucks.
"And, uh..." Jim cleared his throat and belted out in a shaky voice: "Grandma got run over by a reindeer..." He stared at the punch in his hands as he sang, already feeling his stomach doing backflips.
Sarah's eyebrows shot up. Delbert gasped, as if sorry for Grandma. Kenzie's smile turned into a laugh.
Jim quickly poured the punch down his throat, encouraged by that wonderful laugh. His courage quickly turned to nausea, however, and he bolted away from the table, through the hall, and into the bathroom. As he knelt before the toilet, he promised himself he'd never spike punch again.
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