The Queen of Cool by Cecil Castellucci

Christmas.
    “This is retarded,” I say.
    I am trying to be a good Blue Team member, but the lack of sleep and superearly arrival at the zoo make it painful.
    “How is this more retarded than Pencil Day?” Tiny asks. “And by the way, you shouldn’t use the word
retarded.
”
    “
I
came up with Pencil Day,” I say. “And it certainly didn’t involve kids pissing their pants everywhere.”
    “What’s Pencil Day?” Sheldon asks, but we don’t answer because a kid in line behind us starts pointing and yelling.
    “Mommy, look! A real elf!” the kid says.
    The smile on Tiny’s face disappears. Sheldon becomes very stiff, and the red creeps up his neck and onto his face. The kid is pointing at Tiny.
    “I want to meet the elf! I want to meet the elf!” the kid yells.
    At first, no one does anything, not even the mom. Everyone just stands around awkwardly, pretending they can’t hear him. Everyone except me. I lean down so I’m face to face with the kid.
    “
Those
are the elves,” I say, pointing to the people in the elf costumes taking pictures of the kids with Santa and his reindeer.
    “She’s a
person,
” I inform the kid, pointing at Tiny.
    “Oh,” he says. He now points over in the right area. “Those are the elves.”
    “You made a mistake,” I say.
    “Mommy, Mommy, I want to meet the elves!” he shouts, tugging at her sleeve.
    “I’m sorry,” the mom says to Tiny.
    “Happens all the time,” Tiny says, like it doesn’t matter. She’s used to it. But I can tell that it bothers her.
    I have a big mouth, and today I have no patience, and although Tiny probably always just lets it slide, I can’t. It bothers
me.
    “You’re an asshole for letting your kid say that,” I say.
    Now the mom’s hands slip over her kid’s ears. She apologizes again. She’s upset now. Good. She leans down to her kid, and I hear her finally doing her job, explaining about how there are different types of people in the world.
    “You don’t need to speak for me, you know,” Tiny says. “I can take care of myself.”
    I don’t know what to say.
    Finally, it’s our turn to go through the gate. I can see that the holiday spirit has fled from the typically perky Tiny. The fun has been sucked right out of her. I know what I need to do.
    “Come on, Blue Team! I declare it Reindeer Day!” I say.
    I pull one of the reindeer headbands from the costume peg, put it on my head, and strike a reindeer pose.
    Sheldon steers Tiny through the gate, and they take some reindeer antlers and put them on their heads as well.
    We gather around Santa and the real reindeer and start to pose when I get another idea.
    “Wait! Hold the picture!” I say. I grab my bag and dig around until I pull out my fire-engine red lipstick and a mirror. I smear red all over my nose.
    I hear the kids in the line get all excited. They jump up and down.
    “Look, Mommy,” one kid starts yelling. “It’s Rudolph!”

    The first order of business this Christmas morning is a heavy dose of caffeine. I know it’s time to wake up when I hear the sound of the espresso machine.
    “Merry Christmas!” Dad says.
    I grunt in reply, sticking my arms out in front of me like a sleep zombie. He puts a mug of steaming latte in my hands.
    “Go wake up your mom so we can eat breakfast and open presents,” Dad says.
    Christmas has always been Mom’s favorite holiday. But this year Dad’s the one with more spirit. He’s flipping flapjacks and cooking eggs. He’s got an apron on that says,
I’m the Frog Prince.
And I think he means it.
    The latte begins working its caffeinated magic as I go to the kitchen door and lean my head around into the hallway.
    “Mom!!!!!!! WAKE UP!!!!!!” I yell.
    Dad laughs. He’s just tickled pink by everything lately.
    The yelling has done its trick. Mom makes her way into the kitchen to join us.
    “Let’s make this quick. I’ve got plans,” I say.
    “Where’s your Christmas spirit, Libby?” Mom says, even though she