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I’er punch when I hear Elinor say, "It’s sad that Natty didn’t have anyone to come to the ball with I doubt she’s ever even met a huuy Lars, re in earshot I could still slip aithout the

Then Elinor says, "Oh, Flynn It’s so obvious she made that up to make you jealous She’s always had a crush on you"

My vision goes blurry, and I drop my cup of punch Red liquid streams all over the refreshments table and some splashes on my dress How could she say that? Never ht, I do have a crush on Flynn Always have

"She didn’t s out loud and clear like a bell "I checked it out The databases haven’t been cos There really was a boy na that to be kind," Elinor says "We all know Natty tells stories"

My cheeks burn hot I used to tell stories For attention Like the tiot lost in a blizzard and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer came and rescued me But I don’t tell stories anye?

I clear my throat before I can stop raphed Elinor has the grace to look ashamed She’s worried I’ll tell Santa I won’t I’m not a little baby tattletale anymore I can handle myself My heart pumps so hard in my chest, I worry that everyone can hear it So I speak loudly "I don’t ‘tell stories,’ Elinor And I wasn’t lying about Lars"

Two years ago, because I begged and pleaded, because it was my Christmas wish, Santa took ht are a blur, as s are But when I close s that yapped and dogs that barked, the s somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be Christs Christ Papa work, because he took so ed the presents just so He really does know the nairls and boys if he could I just got lucky Sometimes I think about my mother,me to I like to think so

Papa and I visited a house--it was small and blue hite shutters--by the sea I remember the sot to work, I set off looking for the cookies So far my favorites were peanut M&M’s ones at an apartment in Charleston, South Carolina, and a close second were fancy raspberry macarons in Paris

I found a blue-and-white china plate with cookies dusted in powdered sugar I bit into one It was hard nougaty pecan I was licking sugar dust off ed boy, thirteen or fourteen, standing at the foot of the stairs, staring right at me He had hair the color of lemon candy, a translucent yellow "Jävlar!" he whisper-shouted

The way he said it, it definitely sounded like a curse word

"My father says cussing is a terrible habit," I told hi my hands on my coat

The boy just stared at lish, huh? Where are we again? Sweden?" I cleared my throat "God jul" That uage The elves can speak every language, but I’m only huasped So he did speak English! "Excuse ifts, he doesn’t steal the at rave;re No&euht, ere in Sweden "Tomte? Nisse?"

He just looked more confused "Santa Claus is Asian?"

"I’ical dad"

The boy backed up on the staircase "If you guys don’t get out of here right now I’onna call the polisen Police, understand?"