Page 21 of The Grumpiest Elf

When I pick up my phone, I see my friend Sylvia’s smiling face on my screen, and I can’t help my answering smile—not that she can see me. I don’t spend any time thinking about the tiny swoop of disappointment that it’s not Dylan calling.

“Sylvan Sylvia!” I cry as I accept her call, putting her on speaker as I carry my coffee into my room to make sure I have everything ready for tonight. Dylan said to bring comfortable clothes to wear in the truck since we have to set up the workshop, which means I need to have that packed and ready to go.

“Lilting Lydia!” she responds, and we both laugh at the goofy nicknames we gave each other in high school.

We’ve been friends for years, and she’s one of the few people who wouldn’t let me push her away when I tried to withdraw from everyone into my cocoon this semester. She barged into my dorm room and made me talk to her, even if we ended up watching movies eventually. She’s the reason I didn’t fail out of my classes, though. She set our study schedule and forced me to adhere to it. Sure, I guess I could’ve pushed her away harder, but that wasn’t what I was trying to do, really. I just withdrew, and everyone else let me.

Not Sylvia, though. She knows me well enough to know that pushing her way in is what I need sometimes.

“You sound better than I’ve heard you in months. Does that mean you’re enjoying small town life?”

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I stop to think about her question, having not really paid much attention to anything other than working and spending time with my mom. I do feel a lot better here, though. “I am,” I say after a short pause. “It’s nice. The whole town is lit up with Christmas lights, the important things are all nearby so I don’t need a car, and the walk to and from work is short enough that I don’t get too cold but long enough to enjoy. It’s Hallmark movie perfect. Well, mostly.”

“Uh oh. Does that mean you’re really not coming back next semester and then I’ll lose you forever when a lumberjack comes in and sweeps you off your feet?”

I laugh, because she’s mostly joking. Mostly. “I’m not sure about a lumberjack, but I really do need at least a semester off.”

Sylvia might be Team Lydia all the way, but she definitely doesn’t think taking time off is the best choice, though she’s more gentle with her criticisms than my dad. I think she’s hoping that Christmas break will be enough to make me change my mind and come back.

“Fill me in on the perfect parts, and then tell me why it’s only mostly perfect.”

I tell her about the town, about how great it is to see my mom finally blossoming, how much fun I have as an elf, and then I tell her about Dylan.

And for some reason, she finds that whole situation as hilarious as Nora does.

“Why do you keep laughing?” I ask in exasperation after I tell her that he’s suddenly being suspiciously nice after spending our first weeks being a dick.

“Because,” she crows, “you like him.”

“I do not!” I protest.

“Uh-huh. Okay. Sure. You likelookingat him, anyway.”

“That’s not at all the same thing.” My voice comes out as heated as my cheeks. “Lots of hot guys are total assholes. I can … admire someone’s physical beauty without wanting to bone him.”

That makes her cackle more. “Okay. I let you go for a couple weeks without pestering you because I knew you needed some time and space to decompress after last semester. But now that I know about this juicy piece of info, I demand that you call me tomorrow and tell me how tonight goes. You’ll be stuck with himall night. I need to know how you survive.”

“I work with him most days anyway,” I point out. “It’s not like I don’t know how to deal with him.”

“Nahhh,” she scoffs. “This is different. You’ll be in a car with him for what, like, an hour? How far away is the place for the event?”

“I dunno,” I say, suddenly doubtful. “Not too far. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

“Right. So thirty to forty minutes of time alllll alone in a car with the guy you can’t stand. I’m gonna need an update.”

Shaking my head, I laugh. “Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what happens. I’m warning you, though. It’ll be a boring update.”

“We’ll see,” she says, doubt coloring her voice.

Standing, I resume gathering the leggings and oversized sweater I’ve decided to bring to change into before we head to the event. “Enough about me,” I say, tired of talking about Dylan. “How’s your break going?”

* * *

The lift from my conversation with Sylvia lasts all afternoon at ChristmasFest, but it fades as soon as I’m in the truck with Dylan.

She’s right that being here agrees with me more than I would’ve ever expected. Or maybe it’s just the relief from the stress of school and forcing myself to stay on top of things. Here, my schedule is easy enough, and focusing on the children keeps me from getting wrapped up in my head in a way that school just can’t.

Or maybe it’s the magic of Christmas in this postcard-perfect town. According to all those Hallmark movies my mom and I watch, Christmas magic can save even the grumpiest, saddest, most depressed person.

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