Page 2 of The Grumpiest Elf

I shift in my seat, annoyed, but knowing once again that I’m stuck. “I still don’t understand why I can’t just work in the store,” I grumble. “I don’t mind doing that.”

“Aw, but Dylan, you’re so cute all dressed up as an elf,” Sarah says. “And with those cute little ears!” She points at her own ears, and I reach for a throw pillow, but stop when Mom gives me a quelling look.

“Sarah, I already said that’s enough,” Mom scolds her.

“Ha!” I give my sister a triumphant look, and she sticks her tongue out at me. “Real mature, sis. Is that what you’re teaching Sophie? Or is spending so much time with a little kid causing you to revert?”

She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms, opening her mouth to deliver what I’m sure is a scathing retort on the same level of maturity as sticking out her tongue, but Mom cuts us both off before she gets a chance.

“Dylan, you’re good with the families and kids, and you have one of the best upsell rates for photo packages, that’s why you’re continuing your job as an elf.”

“So the trick is doing a shit job. Got it.”

“Dylan,” Dad growls. “Your mother already told you to watch your language. You won’t be asked a third time. And if you deliberately do a bad job, we’ll take that as you deciding to get a job somewhere else and supporting yourself. This is the deal. You’re a senior in college. If you want our financial support, you contribute to the things that provide that support while you’re home. It’s not an unreasonable ask. And in exchange, we pay your rent at school, you get to save money to pay for nights out with your friends and whatever else you do in your free time. You’ll be graduating soon, and your choice will be to come home and work with Sarah year round or find yourself another job. You can live with us if you need to as long as you’re actually working, whether for us or for someone else. But I know you were raised better than to act like this, and I’m disappointed you’re continuing to protest just because your job includes dressing up in a costume for a few weeks out of the year.”

“At least you get to wear pants and not tights that try to crawl up your”—Sarah darts a look at Mom and Dad, her mouth open, and I know the wordassis what was coming out next. “Rear end,” she pivots, and I hide my smirk, but not well enough to avoid her glare.

Resigned to my fate, I nod. “Sorry for complaining,” I mutter, and while I know that’s not usually a good enough apology—and Dad gives me another long look to make sure I know it’s not this time either—everyone lets it go. Mom hands me a paper with my work schedule for the weekend and after I’m expected back for Christmas. At least she’s given me the weekend after finals to get home and relax for a day or two before I hit the ground running, my time split seventy-thirty between Santa’s Workshop and the Christmas Emporium.

“Be glad you get to work in the store at all,” Sarah sidles up and hisses while Mom and Dad head to the kitchen. “None of the other elves do.”

“Nora could, though,” I remind her. “She just doesn’t want to.”

“Right, because she thinks being an elf is fun.” Sarah looks me up and down. “You could stand to borrow a little bit of her attitude.

I roll my eyes, standing, but before I can respond, Dad pokes his head back in. “Dylan. We’re on dish duty, remember? Get in here.”

Grateful to get away from my bossy older sister, I say, “Coming. Sarah just needed to tell me something.”

Dad’s gaze bounces between us, but he nods when I move without hesitation toward the kitchen, accept the flour sack towel Dad hands me, and immediately get to work drying and putting away the china plates and crystal glasses that’ve been carefully set on drying mats.

So much for my plan to retire my elf costume. This’ll be the last year, though. One more year, and I’ll put that elf on the shelf for good. Thank fucking god.

CHAPTERTWO

Lydia

The keypad beepsas it recognizes my code, letting me into the ChristmasFest space. I duck inside, pausing to shake off the snow that’s falling this morning in big, fat clumps, a shiver running through me. According to the locals, snow fell early this year. It started in early November before most people had even cleaned up all their Halloween decorations, covering the piles of leaves in the street waiting to be picked up and freezing half the leaves still on the trees. And it hasn’t really let up in the intervening month.

It’s windy this morning, the cold seeping through my pea coat that looks cute but isn’t built for winters like this. That’s what happens when you live in Seattle most of the time. You don’t have the wardrobe for winters in the interior mountains of the state.

I should probably do something about that soon, though, since I’ll be staying here at least until next fall.

My dad’s disapproving voice when I told him I was taking the spring semester off from college echoes through my head.What are you playing at, Lydia? Are you doing this to get back at me for some reason? Because that’s not fair.

No, what’s not fair is the way he’s been treating me since he and Mom decided to split up, acting like every decision I make is some kind of personal reflection on him. Or an attack.

He’s accused me of taking Mom’s side. Of Mom coddling me. He told me he wouldn’t pay for anything until I go back to school. Told Mom to do the same.

Of course, she refused.

Mom had given me a sympathetic look before leaving the room while dealing with Dad on that phone call, but even in her bedroom with the door closed, I could hear her. She lives in a small two bedroom condo—when she moved there she said it’s so she doesn’t have to worry about yard work but she made sure she’d always have a room for my older sister Brooke or me to stay in when we visit—and there’s just nowhere I couldn’t hear them arguing. So I’d put on my coat and borrowed her boots to go for a walk.

I’ve at least acquired my own snow boots now, and they do a decent job of keeping my feet warm on the walk to my new job as an elf in Santa’s Workshop for the ChristmasFest.

It’s not a long-term gig, honestly, but with Dad’s refusal to help me out still ringing in my ears, it feels good to be earning my own money, even if Mom insisted it wasn’t necessary for me to get a job right away.

The other reason I like working here is that it’s a good distraction.

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