Page 42 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“Me either,” I call out. “It’s going to be the grandest of occasions.”
Once Sylvia is down the aisle—after picking up some flour—Max turns to me. “Dude, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
I press my hand to my forehead. “I don’t either, man.”
“Well, as fun as this has been, I must be going. I have a competition to win tonight,” Storee says as she nudges me out of the way and grabs some allspice and nutmeg. What kind of drink does she have planned? I glance in her basket as well and notice a box of gingerbread cookies. When she catches my gaze, she gasps and moves her basket behind her. “My God, are you trying to scope out the competition?”
“Yes,” I say, looking around. “Have you seen Ursula? Because she’s the only one I’m worried about.”
Storee’s face flattens. “Cute.” She waves to Max. “Always nice seeing you, Atlas.”
“You as well, Storee. Good luck tonight.”
“Thank you.”
And she takes off, stopping to grab some sugar, and then she’s down the aisle.
“You know, I think she’s pretty nice, don’t—oof.” Max buckles over and grips his stomach where I’ve just tapped him in anger. Yes…tapped in anger. Not a punch, but not a playful slap, either. An anger tap. “Dude, what the fuck was that for?”
“I don’t need you being nice to her and wishing her good luck. Whose team are you on?”
“The abusive one, clearly,” he says.
“As my holly jolly sidekick, your allegiance is to me, so no wishing her good luck or thinking she’s nice. She is enemy number one. We hate her. Repeat that to yourself. We. Hate. Her.”
“Seems pretty harsh to hate someone, don’t you think? Can’t we say something like…we disagree with her heavily?”
“That doesn’t sound good when you say it over and over again.”
“We disagree with her heavily, we disagree with her heavily…you know, I think I disagree withyouheavily.”
I drag my hand over my face. “Listen, we don’t have time to disagree with each other heavily. Did you see what was in her basket?”
Max outlandishly gasps and presses his hand to his chest. “You did scope out the competition. How dare you.” He smirks.I really can’t stand him right now.
“I glanced in her basket because my eyes didn’t want to see her stupid face.”
Max chuckles. “Nice save, man.”
“Thank you.” I lean in closer. “Did you happen to see what she grabbed?”
“No.”
“Allspice, nutmeg, and she had gingerbread cookies in her basket. I think…I think she’s going out of the box.”
“See?” Max pushes at my shoulder. “Told you we had to be creative.”
“No,I’m thinking…wemustbe creative.”
“Jesus.” Max rolls his eyes as I start to imagine all the different eggnog concoctions we could come up with.
“Come on, we have a job to do.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Storee
Through the hush of the wind on a crisp winter night,
