Page 20 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“Never mind.”
Narrator: That’s what I thought. You focus on your part, and I’ll handle the narrating. Now, back to the story.
“Did you see the names that were put in for the Christmas Kringle?” Max asks as he walks up to me from a shift out in the forest. It’s about noon and he just got done setting up tree plots with familiesinvesting in the ever-growing forest so we can keep the farm constantly thriving.
I open the reindeer feed bin and pour a sack of food inside, letting the new food go in first and then topping it off with the old food I already pulled out.
“Does it look like I stand around Ornament Park waiting to see who’s entering the asinine competition?”
“Oooh, you’re extra grumpy today. Any reason why? Maybe because there’s a certain sister now in town?” When I glance at him and catch him waggling his eyebrows, it takes everything in me not to grip the back of his head and dip it into the reindeer feed.
“I’m regularly like this,” I remind him on a huff.
“I would agree that this attitude is a normal occurrence for you, but I also feel there’s a bit of snap to it. Some might even say spicy.”
I roll up the empty burlap bag of feed and store it away for when I go to the feed farm to restock. “Is there a point to you coming in here? Or is it just to annoy me?”
“Yes, I already said it, but I shall repeat myself. I came to see if you saw who entered the Kringle contest.”
And here it is, the most annoying thing about this town where I live. December hits, and all they start talking about is who is going to be named Town Kringle for the year.
Confused?
Let me lay it out for you.
A few years back, the proprietors in the town gathered with their Christmas cups full of mulled cider, called in the honorary mayor, Bob Krampus, and came up with the idea to start the Kringle competition as a way to draw in even more people from out of town. Throughout the month of December, those who enter the competition have certain tasks and mini tests they’re graded on, and then all those scores are accumulated to see who is the merriest of them all. That’s the person named Town Kringle—atotally pointless title they get to lord over the rest of us yearlong. When it was introduced, everyone was beside themselves to the point that they limited it to one entry per household. And each competition goes hand in hand with one of the town’s proprietors acting as the judge.
For example, handmade candy canes are judged by Old Man Chadwick, who owns the candy shop in town. He gets to cut people down on their candy cane making abilities and gather some advertising for his own store as he boasts about his products being better, and points are awarded to the participants.
This way, the businesses in town are offered some sponsorship and advertisement while keeping the competitive spirit alive.
The whole thing is stupid. I’ve never entered, and I have zero plans to ever enter.
But the people of Kringle, they think differently. To them, it’s the greatest honor of all time. To them, this is what the year has built up to. For the entire month of December, it’s all they ever talk about.
And I thought Max was better than them, but I guess not.
“Like I said, I don’t care who enters.”
“You don’t?” Max replies with a frown. “Huh. I guess I was wrong then.”
He’s baiting me, and unfortunately, I take the bait.
“Fine. Who the hell is it?”
He smirks. “Your new neighbor.”
“New neighbor?” I ask, confused. “I don’t have a new—” I pause, my mind short-circuiting as I start to clue in. “Wait…” I meet Max’s gaze and he slowly nods. “Storee entered the contest?”
“Yup. Saw her name up on the board today. It’s all anyone is talking about. They’re drawing conclusions about why. Some think it’s because Cindy can’t compete this year, so Storee is taking her place. Others think it’s because she’s trying to make up for what happened to Mrs. Fiskers by taking part in celebrating the town tradition.”
Storee’s going to need more than participation in a Christmas competition to redeem herself after pushing a fifty-year-old woman down a hill and into a frozen river.
“And there is a small batch of townies who think she’s out to ruin Christmas and possibly take out the signature tree again—but that’s mainly coming from the Dankworths. I personally think she’s trying to irritate you.”
“Why would that irritate me?” I ask, even though I can feel my blood pressure start to rise.
“I don’t know.” Max leans against a wooden pillar in the barn. “You tell me.”
