CHAPTER ONE
Elle
JUST FIVE MORE days until December 25th.
I. Couldn’t. Wait.
Not for Christmas. For my birthday.
In exactly five days, I would be eighteen years old. An adult. My life could finally begin on my terms. Tingles of anticipation zipped along my skin.
Mom and I were in the mall with my best friend Crystal, which was a minor miracle. I’d made a deal with Mom back in November. I’d asked that in honor of my eighteenth birthday, could we scale wa-a-a-ay back on Christmas this year and she’d agreed.
I still couldn’t believe it.
To say my mom loved Christmas was a Santa-sized understatement. As soon as the weather turned cool, she got this gleam in her eye. She loved Christmas the way Clark W. Griswold, our cat, loved laser pointers and catnip. Mom started playing Christmas music the day after Halloween, put up a tree in every room of our house, baked a gazillion cookies, forced us to spend hours taking the perfect photo, and has probably seen every Hallmark holiday movie ever produced.
When Crystal called and invited me shopping with her to find the perfect outfit for the big birthday event I’d planned, Mom actually agreed to drive us. We’d been on our way to the boutique across the street from the mall when Mom decided to pop in and pick up a gift on my little brother’s wish list. Pax wanted the latest Legend of Zelda game and if I didn’t I love my little brother so much, I’d never be near the mall this close to Christmas, let alone in one.
Malls were the tenth circle of hell.
The line just to get into the game store snaked around the food court, where the line to see Santa Claus also happened to be. We shuffled our way along a rope queue that weaved in and around mall obstacles like huge plants, waste bins, and the occasional bench, which people lunged for like they were playing a game of musical chairs. Every few seconds, a ho ho ho boomed across the space, followed by the terrified shrieks of children.
Like I said, tenth circle of hell.
“I wanna go home,” came the whine of tired little boy we’d passed a few times now as our respective lines moved.
“If we go home now, you won’t get to see Santa and tell him your Christmas wish,” his mom said.
“I don’t care. I hate Christmas.”
Without thinking, I blurted, “Me, too.”
Okay, you’re judging me, I can tell.
In my defense, we’d been on this line for what felt like months and it just sort of slipped out. Plus, I hated Christmas, too. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a kindred spirit?
In a mall?
At this time of year?
He looked up at me with shock and, I like to think, a little awe. “You do?”
“Yep.”
His mother, on the other hand, looked at me like I’d just oozed out of a rotting Easter egg someone only now just found. Mom gave me The Look that said, “Shut. Up. This. Minute.” Crystal’s dark eyes popped wide and she frantically shook her head.
“You don’t really hate Christmas, honey. You’re just tired,” his mom assured him, glaring holes through me.
“How come you hate Christmas?” the boy asked me.
Mom still glared at me, Crystal still shook her head, so I bit my lip and turned away. A few seconds later, the lines moved. We moved left. The little boy and his mom moved right. I breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Noelle,” Mom said. “I have to find the rest room. Stay on this line,” she ordered and stepped over the rope barricade. “Oh, and take all this for me, will you?” She shoved her shopping bag, her coat, and the mega-cup of soda she’d been drinking into my hands and disappeared into the crowd.
“Elle, are you crazy?” Crystal whispered the second Mom disappeared.
“It just slipped out!”
“Well, tighten your grip! My parents are gonna flip out if your birthday party is canceled because you’re grounded. They moved all our holiday plans around so I could be here for it.”
Guilt flared.
Crystal was right.
My mom had a hair trigger where Christmas was concerned and I couldn’t risk her cancelling all the birthday plans. On Christmas Day — excuse me, on my birthday, (OMG, even I do it!) we’re going to New York City to see a special exhibit at a museum that’s normally closed for the holiday. After that, we’re going out to dinner. My birthdays were typically lost among the holiday bustle so I was insanely excited about this and counting the days.
“Noelle, huh?”
At the sound of my name, my gaze snapped to the kind face of an older woman in the Santa line, clutching the hand of a small girl.
“With a Christmas name, I imagine you have a Christmas birthday,” she commented with a wry look that made me think she understood.
“I do,” I admitted, hope flaring like the Christmas star itself.
“Christmas birthday? That’s so cool.” A guy wearing an elf hat said from behind me, in the game store line. “You get double the presents.”
I could only shake my head. Christmas birthdays sucked. Christmas always came first. Even in the name, Christmas came first. Nobody ever calls it Birthday Christmas, amirite? It was sort of a Schrödinger’s Cat situation. People just couldn’t seem to wrap their minds around the paradox that it was both Christmas and my birthday, so you got the people who handed you a gift with the warning, “That’s for Christmas and your birthday” but was it really?
No.
They simply bought a Christmas present and said that to lower your expectations so you wouldn’t be disappointed.
I was, in fact, disappointed. Repeatedly.
Those presents were always the ones that were something to hang on a tree.
Then, there were those who assured you they didn’t forget your birthday and would make it up to you but they were just so broke from Christmas, but did they ever really?
Also no, because the truth was, they did forget.
It’s not like I expected diamond tennis bracelets and new cars. It wasn’t about the gifts at all, which was an impossible point to make because every time the topic came up, I got called spoiled or entitled. It was the sentiment—or more accurately, the complete lack of it that bothered me. I wanted the day of my birth to matter.
Was that really so wrong?
“People who hate Christmas haven’t figured out that the true spirit of Christmas comes from the giving, not the receiving,” the woman said.
Well, she wasn’t a grandmotherly type at all. She was a disapproving Sunday school teacher type.
I opened my mouth to tell her what I thought about Christmas spirit but Crystal elbowed me in the ribs.
Right. Deep breath. Do not ruin this.
A ripple zipped along both lines as people offered their assessments. Someone called me spoiled. Another said entitled. Tears burned my eyes, but Crystal had begged me to stay quiet, so I did.
I sighed. We’d been on this line for eons and the boutique was going to close before Crystal and I found our cute outfits and now, people on two separate lines were plotting my demise. Where was Mom? I scanned the crowd for her but instead of Mom’s dark head, I spotted a familiar blond one.
No.
Please, God, not now.
Could you maybe smite me later, just this once?
But God was apparently as displeased with me as the people on line. My arch-rival, my nemesis, my sworn enemy locked on target and approached, that gleam in her eyes pure, undisguised joy when she realized I was trapped on this line and probably would be for the rest of my natural life.
“Noelle,” she said on a sneer, blue eyes skimming up and down my body.
“Ellery.” I matched her tone for tone, and skimmed my eyes up and down her body. Okay, that hunter green coat looked amazing on her, and her leather boots put my grungy Uggs to shame. Dammit.
“I suppose you’re here for the new Zelda game.” She held up her bag with a happy grin. “I sure hope they have enough by the time you reach the end of the line.” She cocked her head and studied me. “I could sell you this one…if you’re willing to pay.”
Oh, I was not going there with her. “Well, actually, I’m here for the new Star Wars game, but thanks anyway.” My phone vibrated. I took it out, hoping Ellery would take the hint and disappear. A text from my mom waited.
Mom: Meet me at the exit! Plans changed!
“Crystal, could you hold this?” I handed her Mom’s beverage cup. “My mom wants us to meet her at the exit.”
“Wait, what? Now? After standing here since dinosaurs roamed the planet? Why?”
“I don’t know. I’m texting now.” With Crystal reading over my shoulder, I texted Mom.
Elle: We just got to the last turn in the rope line. If we wait maybe 15 more minutes, we’ll get Pax’s game.
Mom: Noelle, NOW. Your brother brought home his roommate. I have a TON to do to prep for his stay.
Elle: But the boutique closes at 7:30
Mom: We’ll go some other time. I have to shop and clean and pick up another tree and register him.
Register him?
My blood froze in my veins.
No. No, no, no, no.
This was bad.
Tears stung my eyes. Register him could only mean one thing.
“Aw, looks like no game for you. Too bad,” Ellery smiled a self-satisfied smirk. “Should have gotten here earlier. Oh, well. See you.”
As she disappeared into the crowd, the guy in the elf hat said, “Wait, are they out of Zelda games? Oh my God! They ran out of Zeldas!” With a curse, he left the line.
“Wait, no!” I hastily wiped my eyes. “She’s just taunting me. Don’t listen to her!”
But my reassurances came too late. He’d been swallowed up by the Christmas crowd, too. Several more people left the line after the rumbling about no more copies made it to them.
A store employee headed over to us. “Folks, we have about 500 copies of Zelda left in stock. Don’t leave the line.”
“But that girl said there were no more games!” A woman said, shooting me a nasty glare.
I lifted my hands in surrender. “I never said a word. It was her—“ I pointed at Ellery but she was long gone.
“She said it to cut the line!”
“But I’ve been waiting in this line for hours! And I wasn’t the one who said it!” I protested, but no one heard me.
“She hates Christmas.” The voice in the Santa line belonged to the mother of the little boy who also hated Christmas.
The entire assembly of people in both lines gasped in unison at that. People stared and glared. One guy even snapped a picture. Apparently, I was on my way to realizing my lifelong dream of becoming an internet meme.”
Yay.
Crystal tossed Mom’s beverage into the trash bin nearby and clutched my arm. “Come on, Elle. We’re outta here.”
“Crystal, you heard what happened! I never cut the line and I never said that.”
“I know, but the crowd looked like they were ready to start roasting you over an open fire so…” she trailed off. We’d reached the exit but Mom wasn’t here yet. “Elle, listen to me. I saw the texts and I know what you’re thinking but please don’t have a fit. Your birthday party hasn’t been cancelled. Your mom just wants Nick’s roommate to feel welcome. That’s all.”
“Okay. Yeah. You’re right.” I managed a tight grin. Mom hadn’t said anything about skipping the museum event. “But she did say she needed to register him, Crystal. You know what that means.”
Crystal’s mouth fell open.
Yep. She knew what it meant.
Those words sent a shiver down my spine. I’d actually prefer being slow-roasted to that. I shut my eyes and sent up a tiny prayer. Please God, just one year. Just this year. Please.
Every year, our town holds a Holiday Spirit Contest, which was an Olympics of sorts. The contest had various competitions that families may enter from best decor to best Christmas card. The family with the most points wins the award. The more events you enter, the better your odds of winning are. My parents were absolutely fanatical about this contest. In fact, I was pretty sure that’s why they even had Pax and Holly so many years after Nick and me. Two kids with Christmas names was cute, but four?
Now that was a commitment.
Once the Christmas twinkle appeared in my mother’s eye — which was typically when we entered the -ber months — nothing else mattered, a fact made painfully aware to me every year since the town began this award. Last year, poor Holly caught a stomach bug and Mom left me alone with her, holding a barf bucket, so she could still get to the cookie contest.
“Here she comes. Remember, stay calm.”
I nodded again. Mom jogged up to us, grabbed her jacket from me, and fished out her car keys.
“Mom, just go without us. Crystal and I can get ourselves home. We’ll head to the boutique—“
“No, no, I’ll need your help, Noelle. Nick said Quintin, his roommate, has never had a nice family Christmas, can you believe that?” She barreled over me. “I already contacted the awards people and they said it’s not too late to register him as a member of our team—”
My stomach plummeted to my feet and my heart cracked. “You promised me. You promised we’d skip the awards this year—“
“Elle,” Crystal warned.
“I never said we’d skip the competition, Noelle.” Mom quickly zipped up her jacket and slide her phone into a pocket. “I said we’d spend Christmas Day in the city, like you wanted.”
“You mean, my birthday.”
She waved a hand. “That’s what I said.”
Oh my God, could she be any more clueless? Temper surged deep inside me. “Mom, can you just drop us off across the street so all our time isn’t completely wasted?”
For the first time since she left us on the game store line, Mom remembered Crystal.
“Oh, Crystal, I’m sorry. Of course, I’ll drop you off, if you’re sure you can get home on your own?”
“Um, well, I guess I can call an Uber or…something so I don’t have to walk all the way home in the dark…”
Mom totally ignored the panic in Crystal’s voice but I couldn’t.
“Mom—“
“Noelle, enough. I need your help and that’s the end of it. Crystal’s a big girl and can buy an outfit without help, right?”
“Um. Actually,” Crystal began, her eyes darting from Mom to me and back again. “I really need to do this today, Mrs. Garland. My family has plans that we switched around for Noelle’s birthday. This is the only time I have to find that outfit. Please, Mrs. Garland. It shouldn’t take us more than half an hour.”
My jaw dropped. Crystal Yuet, who stood hardly even five feet tall, had just challenged Erica Garland. I turned to Mom, who was biting her lip and frowning and checking her phone.
“Okay. Fine. Half an hour.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Garland. Thank you!” Crystal hugged Mom and turned to me with a huge grin on her face. I knew I should be grateful for my best friend’s Hail Mary play but the only thing I could feel at the moment was keen disappointment.
The Garland family Christmas would once again take precedence over my birthday.
The second we arrived home, Mom disappeared into the kitchen. Soon, the scents of vanilla, sugar, and gingerbread wafted through the house and my heart sank in blood-boiling fury and heart-aching disappointment.
Mom wanted to bake? Oh, this was bad. Very, very bad.
There was no denying it, no pretending I’d misunderstood her. The signs were all here and they were as clear as a Christmas bell.
Even though she promised we’d skip this year, Mom entered the Holiday Spirit Awards competition anyway.
I said a bad word under my breath as the chill skated down my spine.
“Noelle!” She shouted. “I need your help in here!”
The sounds of Christmas music floated out and disappointment flooded through me on a tsunami wave. This was not a drill—we were now at Elf-Con 3 and the situation was looking worse with every minute.
Slowly, I headed for the kitchen, stopping at the door when I heard my parents on the phone.
“Ricki, honey, I’m not sure about this. I mean, we did promise.” That was Dad, his voice tinny on the speakerphone.
“Kevin, it’ll be fine. Noelle will understand. We’ll make it up to her. We’ll do a huge catered birthday party. She’ll love that,” Mom countered.
No. I would hate that.
I only wanted the day at the museum with a couple of friends and maybe a nice dinner out someplace because it was low key. That was me in a two words or less.
“…and I thought we’d put a new tree in that room, one he might like to trim himself,” she was saying.
“Okay, I’ll bring home a small tree.”
“Thanks, that would be a big help. I wanted to buy the tree earlier, but Crystal insisted we go to the boutique for her holiday outfit and well—”
It wasn’t for a holiday outfit! It was for my birthday party.
“It’s no problem. There are two lots nearby,” Dad said.
“Well, good. Nick says Quintin’s never really had a family Christmas. As soon as I heard that, I checked the rules and learned he can participate as a member of our family, because he’ll be with us for longer than three days, so could you bring home more flour and molasses for the gingerbread contest? Oh! And extra tape for the gift-wrap contest.”
“Will do. Bye, honey.”
She pressed the end button on the phone and flipped on the stand mixer. “Noelle!”
Tears stung again.
My mother’s promises were like the egg whites she was currently whipping into frothy meringue—filled with air.
I stepped into view and waited for her to notice me.
She wore a red apron trimmed in white. Little red bells jingled from her ears. Two trays of frozen lasagna waited their turn in the oven. On the counter, she fitted blades into a second mixer—a handheld one, this time. Mom’s dark hair was pinned up and already streaked with flour. She measured cream of tartar into the stand mixer while operating the hand-held mixer with the other hand and finally caught sight of me lurking in the doorway.
“Noelle, good. Finally! Didn’t you hear me calling you? Start doing those dishes. I’m incredibly behind schedule and need to get dinner moving so we can get straight to decorating the cookies as soon as we finish eating. The cookie contest is in two days so there will be plenty of time for do-overs.”
Dinner. Decorating. Do-overs?
No. No! NO!
I didn’t know why but I still couldn’t believe what I heard. I mean, I had enough evidence in hand. Maybe there was still enough of the child in me who still believed in Santa when I said, “You said we’d skip the contests this year. You said we’d have a nice relaxing holiday. You said my birthday could be top priority this year.”
I flicked the power off for the stand mixer so I could hear her reply. She gave me a sharp look.
“Yes, yes, you’re right. I did say that.” She waved a hand like we were talking about something insignificant, like whether to use salted or sweet butter in the icing. “But that was before Nick brought home his roommate. Quintin is an only child, Noelle. His parents won’t even be around for Christmas. Now, come on. You wouldn’t want to spend Christmas by yourself, would you?”
I blinked at her.
“Well, would you?”
“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.”
“Noelle, be serious,” she snapped, not the least bit amused. “While you think about how horrible you have it surrounded by all this Christmas magic, understand that Quintin has never had this joy. Since he’ll be spending the mid-semester break with us, we’re all going to make sure Christmas is special for him.”
“Mom, that’s really nice, but what about me? I’d like my birthday to be special for once. We planned the museum outing weeks ago and—“
“Oh, the museum.” She wiped her hands on her apron and grabbed the calendar from its home on the refrigerator door. “The 26th won’t work, because that’s the day of the Christmas Lights Walk. You can’t go on the 25th, obviously, and the 24th is out because we have the award announcement. The 23rd could still work if it’s before three o’clock…”
The 25th is exactly the day we’d planned on. Right after everybody celebrated with their respective families in the morning, we’d planned to be in the city by 2 PM to see the exhibit. I can’t believe she’d go back on her word like this. The pang in my chest felt like my heart cracked down the center. “No! You said—no. You promised we’d—”
She flicked on the hand held mixer.
Rage lurked just under that pang of disappointment. I snatched the bag of flour just as Mom reached for it. I’d meant to toss the whole damn sack into the trash. Yeah, I know it was childish and immature, but desperate times/desperate measures.
That’s when Nick walked in followed by someone…well, tall.
That’s all I could tell you about his roommate.
The rest of him was obscured by the cloud formed by half the damn sack of flour I’d somehow squeezed all over him.
Like I said. This was bad. This was very, very bad.”
Excerpt From
Mistlefoes
Patty Blount
This material is protected by copyright.
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