Sock it to Me, Santa!
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About this ebook
Ryan is assigned to Jamie Peterson for his class's secret gift exchange. If word gets out that he has to make a handcrafted gift for flamboyant and openly gay Jamie, Ryan will be the laughing stock of the school. It's a good thing no self-respecting boy would be caught dead in a craft store, because otherwise he'd be at risk of being spotted when his mom drags him to her weekly craft workshops. He hopes Jamie will appreciate all the trouble he's going to for this assignment. Finding the perfect gift is gonna be tricky. Jamie deserves something good, though, after all the crap he has to put up with at school. At least, Ryan tells himself that's the reason he's putting so much thought into the gift. It couldn't be that he has feelings for Jamie, could it?
Madison Parker
Madison Parker grew up in Germany where she feasted on Gummibärchen, wandered through the woods on many a Volksmarch, and dreamed of one day living in a castle on a mountain with a boy who knew how to rock a pair of lederhosen. The Fates had other plans for her, but she’s not complaining.Madison began writing LGBTQ fiction to help address issues of bullying and low self-esteem in our young adult populations. Madison’s short story, SOCK IT TO ME, SANTA!, explores one boy’s struggle to come out in a hostile school environment. Her debut novel, PLAY ME, I'M YOURS, takes the reader on an emotional journey in search of love and self-acceptance.
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Reviews for Sock it to Me, Santa!
7 ratings1 review
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Heartwarming story.
Book preview
Sock it to Me, Santa! - Madison Parker
SOCK IT TO ME, SANTA!
By
Madison Parker
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Madison Parker on Smashwords
Sock it to Me, Santa!
Copyright © 2012 by Madison Parker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * * * *
For Jasper, JoJo, & Claude:
May all your sock monkey dreams come true.
* * * * *
SOCK IT TO ME, SANTA!
* * * * *
PART ONE:
The First Exchange
I don’t know what made me do it — what made me say her name. I guess I panicked. Mike didn’t usually bug me about girls, so it caught me off guard. When he asked me whose name I was hoping to get for the Secret Santa gift exchange, I looked around the room and weighed my options. Ben Olson caught my eye, but I didn’t dare say his name. Mike didn’t know I was into guys. No one did, and I planned to keep it that way until I left for college. But if I had to pick someone, I guess it would be Ben. Even though he was into sports, and I wasn’t. He was also into cheerleaders, and I definitely wasn’t.
Well?
Mike said. Who do you hope you get?
I started to say, No one,
but it came out in a stutter.
His smile was full of mischief. "I knew it. You do like someone. Finally. Who is it?"
I leaned in closer to him. Shh! Would you keep it down?
Well, who is it?
And that’s when I panicked and said her name: Amber Owens. She seemed all right, but I hoped Mike wouldn’t try and play matchmaker. The last thing I needed was some girl chasing me around again. At the beginning of the school year, I made the mistake of smiling at Didi Anderson, and she developed a crazy girl crush on me. It was a nightmare. She left love notes in my locker, telling me how cute I was. According to Didi and her misplaced affections, my eyes are like blueberry pop-tarts. Not blue like a sparkling sky or a shimmering ocean, but blue like pop-tarts. I’ve had blueberry pop-tarts. They’re not even blue. They’re filled with purple goop and covered with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles. I guess love makes you say funny things. I never got the chance to find out what foods the rest of my body parts reminded her of. When she finally worked up the nerve to ask her friend to ask me to ask her out, I politely said I wasn’t interested. The fan mail stopped abruptly.
I hoped nothing like that would happen with Amber.
I leaned in closer to Mike. "And I never said I liked her. Just, if I had to pick someone in this room—"
Relax. You look like you’re about to pass out or something.
I shook my head. I’m fine. It’s just this whole Secret Santa thing. It’s stupid. I mean, we’re in high school, not fourth grade.
Yeah, but you know Mrs. Keats. She lives for this kind of shit.
Homeroom sucked. My bad — advisory sucked. They changed the name last year to TAP: Teacher Advisory Period. But it sounds ridiculous to say I’m in TAP. Like I’m a dancer or something. So I just call it advisory. Whatever they call it, it sucked. What was the point? It wasn’t like we learned