alive," I say. "Honestly. She and my dad had some sort of falling out or something, and heâ¦kept us from her. As punishment I guess. My mom was the one who decided I should visit."
My mom, forced by my dad and the elf elders, but I don't think Nick is ready to hear that yet.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that," Nick says, his voice suddenly soft and full of something I'm scared to name.
I harden myself against his sympathy. There is no way I can let myself fall for him. Rigidly facing forward, I clench my fists at my sides and laugh bitterly. "Yeah, my dad's a jerk. And that's putting it mildly."
We sit in silence, but this time it isn't as awkward, but it is uncomfortable because I think something has shifted between us. Finally Nick turns himself back to the steering wheel and pulls out of the parking space. We drive with the silence engulfing us. All I can hear is the guttural groaning of the truck's engine. I know I should be grateful for the fact that Nick let the issue drop, but instead I'm irritated.
Nick reaches over to turn on the radio. Christmas carols spill into the cab. I groan.
"Why do you hate Christmas so much?"
"What?" Did I hear Nick right? Did he just call me out on my biggest secret?
Slanting me a sideways glance, Nick says, "I want to know why you hate Christmas so much."
My heart thunders in my chest. Should I tell him the truth? Is this my chance to convince him? I wuss out. Instead I glance out my window at the passing houses before saying, "If you grew up the way I did, you'd hate Christmas too."
The silence from Nick's side of the truck is so full of that compassion from a few minutes ago that I get annoyed. I shift in my seat to face him.
We idle at a stoplight and Nick faces me more fully. He leans closer. I don't know whether he means to or not. I can't think straight.
"We don't have to talk about it," he says.
"Gah!" I smack my mittened hands into my face as I make the first frustrated noise I can. We stare at each other.
A horn from behind us startles us from this moment. Nick jams his foot on the gas pedal sending the truck jolting forward.
"Sorry," he mutters, for the first time not his happy-go-lucky self.
My breath hitches and I force my gaze back out the passenger side window. Things are spinning out of my control. I have no idea what happens if I fail this task, but the vague unknown of it all terrifies me. What is my father capable of? What of the elf elders?
We pull up to a large pond a few moments later. Skaters are already thick on the ice lit by huge floodlights. A lively fire burns in a fire pit at the edge of the pond ringed by a large stone bench. I scramble out of the truck before Nick can come around to open the door for me.
The bag Gran packed does indeed contain my skates as well as all the fixings for sâmores. Of course. She's still my grandmother even if she is part of this whole twisted setup. She wants me to have a good time despite it all.
Nick leads me to the stone bench by the fire pit without saying anything. His mouth, which Iâm already used to seeing smiling, is set in a rigid line, his jaw shifting almost imperceptibly. What is going on here?
Frustrated, I shove my skates on. I need a break. Without a word to Nick, I clomp to the ice and set off. I'm sailing. I'm flying. My head clears and Iâm free. I make a lap, idly observing the other skaters.
On my second lap, I notice a girl talking to Nick and my stomach squeezes with jealousy. What? Absolutely not. I'm not jealous of some girl flirting with Nick. The only reason I double back is because I need Nick, and nothing can get in the way of succeeding. Failure to convince Nick to be the new Santa is simply not an option.
The girl in the shiny pink parka has nearly climbed into Nick's lap. Anger rushes through me. I mean, he came here with me. Shouldn't he be out here with me? Not gallivanting around with some other girl.
My attention is so focused on Nick and the girl that I
My mom, forced by my dad and the elf elders, but I don't think Nick is ready to hear that yet.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that," Nick says, his voice suddenly soft and full of something I'm scared to name.
I harden myself against his sympathy. There is no way I can let myself fall for him. Rigidly facing forward, I clench my fists at my sides and laugh bitterly. "Yeah, my dad's a jerk. And that's putting it mildly."
We sit in silence, but this time it isn't as awkward, but it is uncomfortable because I think something has shifted between us. Finally Nick turns himself back to the steering wheel and pulls out of the parking space. We drive with the silence engulfing us. All I can hear is the guttural groaning of the truck's engine. I know I should be grateful for the fact that Nick let the issue drop, but instead I'm irritated.
Nick reaches over to turn on the radio. Christmas carols spill into the cab. I groan.
"Why do you hate Christmas so much?"
"What?" Did I hear Nick right? Did he just call me out on my biggest secret?
Slanting me a sideways glance, Nick says, "I want to know why you hate Christmas so much."
My heart thunders in my chest. Should I tell him the truth? Is this my chance to convince him? I wuss out. Instead I glance out my window at the passing houses before saying, "If you grew up the way I did, you'd hate Christmas too."
The silence from Nick's side of the truck is so full of that compassion from a few minutes ago that I get annoyed. I shift in my seat to face him.
We idle at a stoplight and Nick faces me more fully. He leans closer. I don't know whether he means to or not. I can't think straight.
"We don't have to talk about it," he says.
"Gah!" I smack my mittened hands into my face as I make the first frustrated noise I can. We stare at each other.
A horn from behind us startles us from this moment. Nick jams his foot on the gas pedal sending the truck jolting forward.
"Sorry," he mutters, for the first time not his happy-go-lucky self.
My breath hitches and I force my gaze back out the passenger side window. Things are spinning out of my control. I have no idea what happens if I fail this task, but the vague unknown of it all terrifies me. What is my father capable of? What of the elf elders?
We pull up to a large pond a few moments later. Skaters are already thick on the ice lit by huge floodlights. A lively fire burns in a fire pit at the edge of the pond ringed by a large stone bench. I scramble out of the truck before Nick can come around to open the door for me.
The bag Gran packed does indeed contain my skates as well as all the fixings for sâmores. Of course. She's still my grandmother even if she is part of this whole twisted setup. She wants me to have a good time despite it all.
Nick leads me to the stone bench by the fire pit without saying anything. His mouth, which Iâm already used to seeing smiling, is set in a rigid line, his jaw shifting almost imperceptibly. What is going on here?
Frustrated, I shove my skates on. I need a break. Without a word to Nick, I clomp to the ice and set off. I'm sailing. I'm flying. My head clears and Iâm free. I make a lap, idly observing the other skaters.
On my second lap, I notice a girl talking to Nick and my stomach squeezes with jealousy. What? Absolutely not. I'm not jealous of some girl flirting with Nick. The only reason I double back is because I need Nick, and nothing can get in the way of succeeding. Failure to convince Nick to be the new Santa is simply not an option.
The girl in the shiny pink parka has nearly climbed into Nick's lap. Anger rushes through me. I mean, he came here with me. Shouldn't he be out here with me? Not gallivanting around with some other girl.
My attention is so focused on Nick and the girl that I
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