That’s what I’m hoping for. I nod, but don’t click them off. I keep staring at my watch. If my rescue team isn’t there by five, I’m calling a cab. This middle school is out in the middle of nowhere. God, I hope Olivia can find it, or it’s going to cost me a fortune to get back to Nonna’s.
I glance down at my costume and then at my date. It will be worth every penny.
We pull up out front and there’s a group of people all dressed like me, except I’m the only one blinking. There are several wooden structures lined up along the sidewalk in a row in front of the school, and a roped path I’m guessing the people who show up to see us will follow. The manger seems to be right in the middle, if the wooden crib is any clue.
“We’re here!” Aunt Patrice calls from the front seat.
I scoot out of the car, Harold close on my trail. He makes several attempts to hold my hand as we walk toward the school, but luckily I dodge him each time.
“Hey! Check out my date! She’s a senior. In high school!” Harold announces to the crowd. I want to dig a hole and die in it. Everyone else dressed in robes seems to be in middle school—Harold and I are clearly the oldest ones here.
I turn to Aunt Patrice. “I don’t really understand this date. I mean, we’re at a middle school.”
Aunt Patrice smiles and pats my arm. “I know! This is going to be so fun. When the two kids that were supposed to play Joseph and Mary got sick with the flu, Harold stepped forward to be Joseph. His little brother goes here—that’s him,” she says, and points to a mini version of Harold dressed like a sheepherder. “We just needed a Mary! So when Mom came up with that crazy idea for you to start dating again, it seemed like the perfect fix for our Mary problem.”
You have got to be kidding me.
“It’ll be fun!” she says in a high-pitched voice.
She herds Harold and me toward the center of the manger, where a woman with a clipboard positions us.
A girl who looks about twelve moves close to me. She’s dressed all in white with wings bigger than she is. She whispers, “Have you ever been out with him before?” and nods toward Harold.
I shake my head. “No.”
Her forehead scrunches up. “Well, watch out. They don’t call him Hundred Hands Harold for nothing.”
Before I can even process what she said, Aunt Patrice drops a real live baby in my arms. “This is why we needed you. The other Mary was in high school, too. This baby’s mom didn’t want anyone younger than that to hold him. See, it all worked out!”
Oh my God.
The baby—who can’t be older than a few months—looks up at me. We stare at each other for a few seconds, and then he opens his mouth and lets out the most earsplitting scream I’ve ever heard.
And that’s saying a lot, considering how many babies I’ve been around.
I try to hand him back to Aunt Patrice, but she moves away.
“We want this to be authentic, so it’s okay if he cries a little bit.”
Authentic? I’m wearing a robe that has blinking lights sewn into it. I bounce the baby around on my shoulder, I pat his back, I do everything I know to quiet him down. I’m sweating so bad at this point that my halo keeps slipping off my head.
After ten minutes, the baby finally quiets down. If I keep jiggling him just like I’m doing, maybe he’ll stay quiet. It doesn’t help that I have to swat at my date about every thirty seconds. Hundred Hands Harold is a very appropriate name.
I get into a rhythm: jiggle baby, elbow Harold, send a death glare to Aunt Patrice. As it gets closer to five, I think I might actually be able to hold out until Olivia gets here.
And then they bring in the animals.
When Olivia and Charlie finally come through the line, the goat next to me has eaten about three inches of my robe and shows no signs of stopping.
“You’re late!” I say between clenched teeth.
Charlie holds up his phone, and before I can throw myself behind Harold, he snaps a picture.
“I will kill you, Charlie Messina. Dead. You are a dead man.”
He taps out something on his phone, then holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry but Margot texted me and offered twenty bucks for a picture. I couldn’t pass it up.”
Harold takes this moment to stake his claim. He puts his arm around me and says, “We need to ask you to keep moving down the line.”
