Page 20 of The Grumpiest Elf

Fuck.

This is not going at all as planned.

* * *

“What did you do to Lydia yesterday?” Nora asks the next evening when she walks in the door. She worked the afternoon shift with Lydia today while I worked in the Christmas Emporium. Sarah apparently works her magic quickly. She can be convincing when she decides to be. It’s nice to have that working for me instead of against me for once.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.” I answer from my spot on the couch. I might not’ve been dealing with kids and parents all day or wearing a silly costume—though Sarah did insist I wear one of the variety of Christmas sweaters Mom’s bought me over the years that still live in my room here—but Sarah worked me hard, so I’m tired. As soon as I got home, I stripped off the sweater and collapsed on the couch, the sweater in a heap next to me.

Nora gives me a doubtful look and nods at the sweater. “Mom’ll skin you if you leave that there, especially wadded up like that.”

Rolling my eyes at my little sister, I pick it up and turn it right side out, folding it messily, because even if she’s annoying, I know she’s right. “There. Happy?”

She shrugs. “I’m not the one you need to make happy, but you know that already. Back to Lydia.” Moving in front of me, she crosses her arms and cocks her hip in the pose she uses when she’s trying to stare me down. Not that it works. It’s her best imitation of what Sarah does to bulldoze me into doing what she wants. The difference is, Sarah’s older than me and Mom left her in charge of us as kids often enough that listening to her is almost a reflex. Nora’s two years younger than me. She doesn’t have that advantage.

“What about her?” I ask innocently.

Shaking her head, Nora waves a finger in the air. “Nuh-uh. Nice try. I’m not that gullible. You did something. She asked what was wrong with you yesterday, and since I didn’t know, I asked her what she meant. She wouldn’t give me a straight answer, just said you were being weird. So what’s going on? Why are you being weird to Lydia?”

“I wasn’t being weird,” I protest, running a hand through my hair. “I was just trying to benice.”

Nora’s eyebrows climb her forehead, the only indication of her surprise. “And how are you usually?”

“I dunno.” This time I grip my hair and give it a tug, needing to express my frustration in some physical way, no matter how small. “Just normal, I guess. But for some reason, she’s nice to everyone except me. So I decided to try beingmorenice, and I guess she thinks that’s weird.”

Bursting out laughing, Nora moves around and flops down on the couch next to me. “Wait, hang on.” She holds up a hand. “You’re telling me that Lydia—Lydia who can coax a smile or at least a cute expression out of the most upset toddlers—ismeanto you?”

I blow out a frustrated breath. “No. That’s not what I said.” I find myself repeating almost the exact same conversation as I had with Sarah the other night, but instead of trying to help me, Nora’s cackling, holding her stomach because she’s laughing so hard.

“Shut up,” I tell her, throwing my sweater at her.

She pulls it off her face, her laughter not even slowing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says, not sorry at all. “You have to admit it’s funny though. I’m not sure what you think normal is, but obviously you werenotbeing nice to her before, and you’re butt hurt that in response she was polite to you while being friendly to everyone else. Theaudacity.”

“Hey—” I start, but she talks over me.

“And then, because you’ve realized that you fucked up, you think that being mildly friendlyone time”—she holds up a finger to emphasize her point—“will magically make her treat you like she does me?” She blows a raspberry and flaps her hand at me. “Bro, I love you, but you’re delusional. Also, it’s hilarious to me that you being nice to her makes her think that you hit your head or something.”

Grabbing my sweater, I stalk to my room, Nora’s laughter following me out. There’s no point in even saying anything. The worst part is, I know she’s right. Deep down where I haven’t allowed myself to admit it, she understands the situation better than I do, which is extra messed up since I’m the oneinit.

But I review every interaction I’ve had with Lydia since she arrived. The first one where she walked in on me changing, called me Elfie, and even after she apologized, I was … not very nice to her. No wonder she’s decided to treat me with detached politeness. At first I was grateful, because I took it to mean she’d just be normal with me and not using the customer service persona she puts on to deal with the public. Her occasional barbed comment seemed to back that up.

It turns out, though, that the way she deals with everyone else isn’t an act she puts on. It’s just how she is. And I’ve caused her to put on a cold persona—with a sharp edge when the opportunity presents itself—to deal with my bullshit.

I just don’t know how to get her to set that aside and be normal with me once more. And I honestly don’t even know why I care so much, since Sarah’s right that we’ll be going our separate ways soon enough.

But I do care. And since I do, I’m determined to change things before it’s too late.

CHAPTERTWELVE

Lydia

I’m gearingup for a busy day with a cup of coffee and a homemade breakfast sandwich. Between working at Santa’s Workshop this afternoon and the event tonight, it’s going to be a long day. When my phone rings, I assume it’s Dylan calling to tell me something about tonight. We exchanged numbers yesterday, which was also super weird. He’s been weird all week, though when I asked Nora if anything had happened to him, she’d just laughed like I was making a hilarious joke. I took that as a no, but regardless, something’s changed.

He’s being … friendly. That’s what I finally decided at the end of yesterday. It just took a couple days for me to figure it out, because he’s beenunfriendly without exception up to this point.

I just can’t figure out why. What’s his goal with this sudden change in behavior?

Since I don’t trust it, I haven’t changed my interactions much, aside from my involuntary stumbling over my words in shock from him being something other than the surly, grumpy jerk I’ve come to expect.

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