Page 19 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“You were eighteen.”
“Which was a very impactful year for me. A fresh adult with possibilities in front of her. And then forthatto happen…” I shake my head. “I won’t relive it.”
Taran takes my hand in hers. “You tripped over your elf shoe and knocked over a cutout wooden present. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Uh, are you forgetting the fact that the wooden present knocked into Mrs. Fiskers, who lost her balance and tumbled down the hill and into the river, where there was a rescue effort full of fireman, police officers, and medics to pull her out?”
Yeah, that happened.
I sent a lady in her fifties tumbling down a hill and into a freezing cold river.
“It was humiliating, Taran. I didn’t want to do the stupid Santa reveal in the first place, but I needed the volunteer hours for school, so I was forced to parade around in an elf costume. I should have known it wasn’t going to go well.”
“Didn’t you forget a line you had to say too?” she asks, just sticking the knife further into the back of my memories.
“Thanks for bringing it up.” I lean against the headboard and draw my knees into my chest. “Ever since then, I’ve made it my mission to always be the person behind the screen, editing out the embarrassment, rather than the girl in front of the camera.”
“And you’re very good at your job,” Taran says, a rare compliment from her. “But this is going to be different. You’re older now. Less…clumsy.”
“I’m still clumsy, and the town knows it—they don’t ever forget anything. They didn’t forget about the hot chocolate shortage of 2012. They didn’t let me live down the signature tree-tipping over in Baubles and Wrappings. And they most definitely will never forget about Mrs. Fiskers being knocked into the river.” Whispering, I add, “They had to treat her for hypothermia. The river was mostly frozen, but her elbow hit the ice, cracked it just enough for a rush of water to wash over her.
“I think she was being dramatic. It wasn’tthatcold out that day.”
“Doesn’t mean the water wasn’t cold.”
Taran sighs and then places her hand on my knee. “Storee, I understand that you’re nervous, and rightfully so. You haven’t had the best of luck in this town, but this is for Aunt Cindy. She’s the one who created all of the magical Christmas moments we’ve had in our lives. It wasn’t Mom and Dad; it was her. And she’s asking for help, so I think we owe it to her.”
I groan because I know that she’s right.
Aunt Cindy was the one who welcomed us into her house during Christmas, wrapped us in the deepest and warmest hugs, included us in decorating the tree, made cookies with us, and allowed us to use her dining room table as Santa’s sleigh and her chairs as the reindeer.
She was the one who created the magic.
I lean my head back. “Taran…I’m going to humiliate myself again.”
“You won’t,” she says. “You’re older, wiser, and you have Aunt Cindy mentoring you. If anything, you’re going to succeed. Promise.”
Why do I feel like this is a disaster waiting to happen?
CHAPTER FOUR
Cole
Christmas Kringle? No, thank you. She was still very scared.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she constantly declared.
Her hat was in the ring, for it was a Kringletown honor.
And guess who totally noticed? The grumpy Cole/Connor.
“Okay, if I’m going tosit back and watch this story unfold, the least I can do is set you straight. It’s just Cole…no Connor involved.”
Narrator: Yes, but Connor rhymed with honor, so it worked better.
“You’re giving readers the wrong impression.”
Narrator: Would you have preferred if I found a way to rhyme Cole with A-hole?
