A Merry Aussie Christmas

By Ebony McKenna

RayChill has a few issues to sort out, and the Christmas season is making everything that much more complicated.

She and her co-worker Jonno, the super cute American, are the only ones in the store on Christmas Eve. Cue shenanigans and fun, and some searching questions that really get under RayChill's skin.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ebony McKenna
• Release date: Jul 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648284260

Ebony McKenna

Ebony McKenna is the author of 7 young adult romance novels, several short stories and now the 'Edit Your Own' non-fiction writing series. She lives in Melbourne, Australia.

Book preview

1

Thank goodness I have to work tonight. Best excuse ever to swap out the noise at home for some peace and quiet in the warehouse. The cool warehouse. OK, the at-least-it’s-cooler-than-my-home warehouse. Plus, it means I have a legit excuse to sleep in as long as possible tomorrow.

Yes, I know it’s Christmas Eve, but my brother is sucking all the Wi-Fi watching Netflix, and it’s so hot I just know I’ll end up losing my patience and screaming at him, he’ll have a meltdown and then Mom will yell at me because ‘you should know better’ or something.

Urgh. Being neurotypical sucks!

I’m borrowing your bike, Kiddo! I call out, part way through closing the back door.

My mother yells from somewhere else in the house, Ray? Why are you heading off so soon?

Duh, because if I’m still at home, she’ll give me a list of jobs to do, which I don’t get paid for. As opposed to going to work, where I will get paid! Instead, I call back, So I can grab a bite before shift.

There’s plenty of food here, she calls back.

Food I will have to make myself. I’m good.

Mom comes down the hall and says, You just want to hang out with that cute American boy, right?

She freezes me with her truth-stare.

Time to get out of here.

With his trademark bizarre timing, my brother yells, John Barrowman! from the TV room. His favorite actor must have shown up in yet another series.

I take his non-sequitur as permission that I can take his wheels. Thanks Kiddo!

Stop calling me that!

Nothing wrong with his hearing, then. "Thanks, Yam!"

Stop calling me that too!

Happy Christmas! I grab his bike and pedal off in the blustery afternoon wind toward the station, WillYam’s voice still ringing in my ears.

Weird spelling is the least of his issues. And how’s this for extra? Will’s so very good at spelling!

It’s been a stinker today and the aircon at home is on the blink. It’s been hot all week, making everyone cranky. Or maybe that’s just me? Being at home in this weather brings the worst out in me. Plus, have I mentioned the warehouse has cooling? #LifeGoals.

At the train station, the platform is dotted with people wearing a summery version of Santa outfits. People are busking for charities and playing Christmas carols on trumpets. They are standing under a portable shade cloth marquee, with huge sandbags around the base of the poles to stop it flying off in the strong winds. That item has been a very popular seller at the warehouse. Sandbags sold separately.

It’s nearly five by the time I reach work. It doesn’t matter that I’m way too early for my shift. I will soon be cool, drinking the sweet, sweet elixir of life from the subsidized staff soda dispenser. I’m allowed to drink sugary stuff here, because WillYam won’t see. WillYam and sugar are a bad combination. Me and sugar, on the other hand, get along just great.

I haven’t seen ‘the American’ yet. I really hope nobody at work has noticed how much I am seriously crushing on him. I’m glad there will be a few of us on duty overnight, because it if was just the two of us for all those hours together, I think my brain would fizz out.

The last hour of mad shoppers are blitzing the warehouse. Honestly people, we’re only closed for one day! We will be open again, the day after tomorrow. But common sense is in short supply as shoppers act like doomsday preppers. Last week I saw someone with a trolley full of bleach and D-cell batteries. #TheyLiveAmongUs

Despite the sweltering heat, the charity sausage sizzle is cranking out the food and drinks. Sizzled meat and caramelized onions fill the air. A familiar ‘fsssht’ sounds as people open their cans of cold drink and guzzle them down.

The local pet rescue scored the Christmas Eve spot this year, and the volunteers are looking happy with themselves. Sweaty too, turning sausages on the hotplates. When the timing and the weather is right, the charity barbecue becomes a license to print money.

Of course, my stomach rumbles, so I line up behind perspiring shoppers who are wearing fluffy Santa hats and tee shirts decorated with images of cartoon reindeer playing in snow. I still don’t get that. It’s already a hot summer, and it’s going to get worse. Why do we keep doing the snow thing in Australia, when it’s boiling?

This sausage in bread tastes so good. I nom it down, taking care not to let any fried onions land on the ground. For a start, they should be in my belly, and secondly, when cooked onion falls to the ground, people slip on them and call their lawyers.

It’s as if they’ve watched the same show for hints or something.

Clocking in, I wave a fresh hello to my tired co-workers, who are nearly at the end of their shift. They are slammed and tried, but they’re smiling because the store is closed tomorrow so they get the day off. Some of them are taking a few days’ vacation. They are chatting to each other about what they’re doing for the family lunch tomorrow, and who is watching the cricket and the boat race the day after.

Some of them mention how they’re visiting three families in one day, which feels like cruel and unusual punishment. Although, now that I think about it, maybe when things get tense with one family, they have an excuse to leave and drive off to the next one? Maybe that would be better than being stuck at home all day with nothing to do?

Merry Christmas Ray, they say to me as they clock out at the end of their shift.

Merry Christmas back at ya, I say, because it’s the season of good cheer and all that, and it’s something nice to say.

The last of the shoppers are being, well, escorted sounds ruder than it is, so maybe encouraged is more accurate. Yes, encouraged to finish their purchases and leave, so we can lock the doors behind them. We are one of the very few stores that doesn’t play any