The Secret Santa Game - 1. Chapter 1

The parent/teacher meeting was almost over. If Richard was going to do this, he had to make a move. Taking a deep breath, he stood up as Mr. Morrison, the head teacher, asked, “Are there any other matters to be discussed? Yes, Mr. Donaldson?”

Richard ignored the intonation hinting at surprise and perhaps dissatisfaction that the most junior of the school’s teachers would dare to speak up without having cleared it with the senior staff member. Mr. Morrison might believe he ran Eldorado High School, but Richard knew the real power lay with the school board, the head of which was sitting at the front table looking bored.

“As most of you know, I joined Eldorado last year, and that’s when I became acquainted with the tradition called Secret Santa. The game where the senior class draw lots, and have to come up with Santa-like things to do for one of their fellow students. It seemed to me the Santa deeds were mostly confined to buying candy or sticking notes on lockers, and the game didn’t give the participants much pleasure.”

Richard was delighted to see a pained look on several parents’ faces. Good, they weren’t all in favor of this tradition.

“I would like to propose a different Secret Santa game; a contest with an award to the winners. It would also be a project which could earn them credit in social studies, in effect replacing one of the normal assignments.”

The parents and other teachers showed more interest after this statement, but Mr. Morrison frowned and looked as if he wanted to object. Richard pretended not to see and plowed on.

“The students would be paired two and two, either by choosing their own partner or by drawing lots. They’ll be a team of Santa and Santa’s helper, taking turns to be both. Each group has to find at least one student in one of the lower grades whom they think deserve Secret Santa help. It could be someone who’s lonely, has an overlooked talent, is hurt by something or someone, or simply needs a chance to shine or some good luck.”

Richard carefully avoided saying ‘someone being bullied’ because he knew that would bring Mr. Morrison’s automatic response. ‘We don’t have any bullying in Eldorado.’ He had often wondered if the head teacher really believed that BS, or he simply refused to see the problem.

“The most important part is it has to stay a secret. Anyone revealing what they or anyone else are doing is immediately out of the contest, although they still have to complete the assignment. They can discuss the project with each other, of course.”

Mr. Brady spoke up. “What kind of award did you have in mind?”

Richard smiled at the taciturn, but charismatic head of the school board. “I’m open for suggestions.”

***

Three days later Richard explained the rules to the senior class.

“Once you’ve chosen a target, you’ll need to tell me the student’s name and year. The deadline is one week before Thanksgiving. I’ll check the list to be sure no other team has selected them. I would like to know why you chose this person but you don’t have to say what you intend to do. However, you’re welcome to seek my advice on any plans, and I can even help with after-hours access to the school or supplies, if needed.”

The students stared at him in disbelief, and Richard could almost see the wheels turning in a few heads. He raised his voice in warning.

“Whatever you do, remember you cannot reveal your mission to your target or anyone else. If they start questioning what’s going on, it will detract from your chances of winning. If you talk about the scheme to anyone outside this class, you’ve automatically lost, but you still have to finish your assignment.”

“But how do we select the winner?” Richard wasn’t surprised Connor Brady was the one to ask. The boy had a competitive mind and always wanted to win, no matter what he did. If he took the game seriously, most of the seniors would follow.

“Two days before the Christmas break, the teams will make presentations explaining why they selected their target. Each of you must outline what you and your Santa’s helper did to deliver an appropriate gift or do a good deed, and how well you succeeded. Everyone else will award you points according to how they think you have done. I will give you a mark for the execution of the presentation, and the team with the most points will win.” A small buzz of excitement ran through the class, and he let it continue for a bit, before calling them to order.

“I’ve uploaded all the rules to a secure site, which you can access via the team usernames and passwords. Don’t print the files out or download them to anywhere else. Remember, this is also a test of your ability to keep matters secret. And when you give your presentations, you’re not allowed to tell the name of your targets or show pictures of them. I realize it will be possible to guess who they may be, but anyone doing so out loud is immediately banned from the contest.”

Richard let his gaze wander around the class and he was pleasantly surprised how interested they seemed. It was an unusual challenge, but perhaps the real incentives were the prizes. Nothing to do with him, Mr. Brady had insisted on providing both individual and team prizes. His offer and tacit approval of the scheme had prevented the head teacher from killing the idea.

“Are you ready to start the Secret Santa game?” There was a chorus of yeah and yes.

“But, what if we don’t want to participate?” The cold voice of Vanessa cut through the noise, and everyone fell silent. Their eyes turned to Richard to see how he would tackle this challenge from the unofficial leader of the senior girls.

“Then you can opt for the original assignment I had planned. A ten-page essay on the four main charities of the US, and how they are doing with bettering the lives of those they’ve chosen to aid. It has to be based on research and provable examples.” He knew he’d won at the word ‘research.’

***

Connor Brady insisted the teams should be formed by drawing lots, and no one in the senior year dared object. Richard pretended to set it up, but in fact he’d carefully done the pairings he wanted beforehand. Vanessa was the first name pulled out of the hat, and she was so pleased at being ‘accidentally’ paired with her best friend and loyal supporter, she ignored, and thus silenced, any subsequent grumblings from less lucky classmates.

Richard felt hardly any remorse at his duplicity, because he honestly believed he had given everyone else the best possible combinations. Vanessa’s chances of winning were negligible anyway. He’d never encountered a more selfish, uncaring person; not even his own mother.

Four days later, Connor Brady and Edward Manning approached Richard after class. They made sure everyone else had gone to lunch and closed the classroom door.

“Mr. Donaldson?” Connor was holding out a piece of paper for him. “Here are our choices.”

“Very well.” He took the paper, unfolded it and gave contents a quick glance. His eyebrows shot up at the list of ten students representing freshmen, sophomores and juniors.

“Is it OK?” For some reason, Connor seemed nervous. Otherwise, he was the spitting image of his father, with dark blond hair, surprisingly blue eyes, broad shoulders, and a personality which rarely failed to impress.

“You’re the first team to hand in names. I’m surprised you’ve managed to select this many targets so quickly.” Richard waited to see what Connor would say.

“Ehm, yeah, well, Eddie had this idea,” a now visibly flustered Connor muttered, and Richard decided to let him off the hook, a little.

“Please sit down, both of you, and explain. What do these students have in common?”

“They’re all being harassed because they’re considered gay.” Eddie’s voice was crisp and his brown eyes met Richard’s without their normal happy sparkle.

“I see. You understand that outing anyone is not acceptable.”

“We’re not interested in their orientation, and in fact we're pretty sure most of them are straight. We want to deal with the general problem. Our Santa deeds will be aimed at making it dangerous to use slurs and bullying based on who you like to date.”

“That’s very ambitious, Edward. But I have to say I’m impressed. I guess if anyone else has these students on their list for another reason, it won’t interfere with your plans, will it?”

Edward shook his head and Connor spoke up. “If any of the other teams want to tackle this problem too, can we work together?”

“Certainly, do you think that might be the case?” Both teens shrugged and Richard smiled, but didn’t press them. “Good luck with the contest, boys, and let me know if you need any help.”

***

Two weeks after Thanksgiving, Richard wasn’t surprised to be asked to a meeting in the principal’s office, nor to see Duncan Morrison standing next to Mr. Grayson’s desk, almost trembling with rage. The presence of Mr. Brady was unexpected, though Richard thought it a good sign that the head of the school board was sitting in a chair on the other side of the desk and not standing next to Mr. Morrison.

Mr. Grayson cleared his throat as Richard approached. “Please take a seat, Mr. uh…” he glanced at the folder in front of him “…Donaldson.”

Richard smiled gently at the old man. It wasn’t his fault he was losing the fight against age, deteriorating memory, and an ambitious and ruthless head teacher. Maybe the principal should have retired, but personally, Richard was glad of anything which kept Mr. Morrison away from becoming the new leader of the school. Even if it meant Eldorado High suffered from a lack of progress.

“I understand you’ve been the instigator of a ‘game’ called Secret Santa, in the senior year?” The principal’s voice was hesitant as he said the words which were no doubt a repeat of a much more forceful accusation by the head teacher.

“The Secret Santa game was a tradition before I arrived, Mr. Grayson. I simply gave it a new direction, with the consent of the parents – and of the students.”

“I see.” Mr. Grayson turned to Mr. Brady, and Richard did his best not to smirk.

“What does the school board think?” It was a question Richard very much wanted to know the answer of as well. The calm face of Connor’s father gave away nothing as he spoke.

“We have no objections to the game as it was explained to me and the other parents, nor to the small change in tradition.”

Richard was pretty sure a few of the school board members were less than happy with some of the recent events. But Mr. Brady apparently steered them as ruthlessly as he was rumored to control the company boards he chaired. Not to mention being the undisputed leader of the social circle of Eldorado, in spite of being divorced.

Perhaps he made up for that by being a devoted father, not only of Connor and his older brother, but also of the ten-year-old daughter, who lived with her mother. Richard’s colleagues were certainly effusive in their praise of the man. But maybe his inherited wealth, good looks, and wolf-amongst-sheep personality kept the plentiful gossip almost respectful. No matter what, Charles Brady was a force to be reckoned with.

“But…but, it’s disrupting the whole school.” The head teacher couldn’t contain his anger any more.

“In which way?” Richard though it was highly significant the question came from Mr. Brady and not Mr. Grayson. Yes, this was the real power struggle, and the poor principal was caught in the middle.

“There’s been an increasing number of anonymous accusations of so-called unacceptable behavior, as well as several incidents where students have suffered embarrassing accidents.”

Richard wanted to laugh, but he simply said, “I fail to see how this could be related to the Secret Santa game. After all, the teams are supposed to do good deeds for their fellow students.”

Mr. Grayson’s reedy voice delivered the next blow. “I seem to recall we’ve always had such pranks played on students, but you’ve never made an issue of it before, Duncan?”

Of course not, Richard wanted to say, because earlier those ‘pranks’ didn’t target the bullies, the popular jocks, and the rich kids the head teacher protected. It was easier to turn a blind eye to such behavior than to punish the culprits and perhaps earn the wrath of their influential parents.

“I’m grateful you brought these matters to my attention, Mr. Morrison.” The voice of Mr. Brady reminded Richard of a cobra poised to strike, even as the head teacher swelled with self-importance.

“I’ll make sure the school board reviews the policy on hazing. Perhaps we need to be more specific on consequences for students who’re stepping out of line. As to the accusations of unacceptable behavior I expect you’ll look into those and give the board a full report of the actions taken in the cases where they are well-founded.”

***

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Richard.”

He couldn’t help smiling with satisfaction at the more relaxed address. Being called Mr. Donaldson always made him want to look around for his father, who was not someone he cared to see.

“Merry Christmas, Connor. I hope you’re not too disappointed about the Santa Game.” Richard knew Edward and Connor would have won, if it wasn’t for the fact their interventions hadn’t managed to stay a secret. But at least they had scored straight A’s for their presentations, as well as enthusiastic applause from most of their classmates.

The handsome senior turned to stand next to Richard, and they both looked at the sea of students, teachers, and even a large number of parents, milling about in the beautifully decorated hall. It had certainly been an unusual, but joyous, last assembly before the holidays.

“Nope, we knew the risk of people finding out what was going on. But I think we all won; the whole school I mean. Plus I got the best reward ever, and Dad has promised us seats later in the postseason.” One of the coveted team prizes had been two tickets for the Cowboys’ first playoff game, just after Christmas.

Richard didn’t reply, but his smile grew broader. He never dreamt his little Secret Santa game would have such huge effects. But as he looked over to where Mr. Brady was shaking hands with Mrs. Cauldwell, the new head teacher, he felt an even deeper satisfaction at the conspicuous absence of Mr. Morrison who’d resigned two days ago.

“Connor, are you ready to go? Oh, Merry Christmas, Mr. Richard.” The bright voice of Edward Manning broke into his speculations of who the new principal would be now that Mr. Grayson had announced his retirement.

“Merry Christmas, Edward. I hope you’ll enjoy the holiday, both of you.” The teen reminded Richard of himself at that age, although they looked nothing alike. Not really surprising considering the likely Italian descent of the boy compared to his teacher’s Northern European ancestors.

Edward’s vivacious brown eyes and black hair, kept painfully short probably to combat a tendency to curl, couldn’t have been more different than Richard’s bland looks. His own buzz cut helped to conceal the decidedly ginger tone of his hair, and his eyes were more grayish-blue than green. But Edward’s eagerness to learn and positive outlook on life were traits they had in common. Hopefully, Eddie would never lose those.

“Thank you, you too,” they answered before walking off, hand-in-hand, making their way towards the exit and ignoring the incredulous stares from some of the people around them. Yes, Connor was probably right; winning the friendship and heart of Eddie was the most awesome prize, although Richard thought the acceptance by Mr. Brady and Edward’s parents might have been the real miracle.

He did his best to ignore the fact he didn’t have that. But perhaps one day, if he was very good, Santa might grant him the love he needed, would fulfill his secret wish of a best friend and lover united in one man.

Once more Richard let his eyes roam across the slowly emptying hall. He was quite unprepared for meeting the penetrating gaze of Charles Brady, who was standing a few feet away. The head of the school board closed the distance and held out his hand. “Merry Christmas, Richard. I’ve wanted to ask this for a while now. Would you like to go out for dinner sometime?”

Richard had automatically taken the offered hand to shake it, but the intended politely returned ‘Merry Christmas’ never left his mouth. A jolt traveled up his arm from the warm clasp of hands, and all he could do was gasp and nod. The words ‘Thank you, Santa!’ shaped themselves in his dazzled brain, and he seemed to catch a hint of a deep booming laugh, before a delighted smile distracted him.

“How about tonight?”