Page 11 of Go Luck Yourself
A long, blown-out exhale finally comes, and I rock forward, all my weight on the wall, the coldness of the brick bleeding into my forehead. The rush and rumble of air entering and leaving my body drowns out my thoughts, and I focus on that noise. Nothing else.
And, in place of all other thoughts, I hear that guy say, in his thick accent,cream filled.
An unexpected laugh cuts through my chest, alleviates some of the lingering, relentless tension.
I breathe again, and this time, it goes in and out smoothly.
Three days later, my paper is submitted, it’s almost the weekend, and I wake up feeling more like myself.
Until I turn on my phone and see two dozen missed texts and calls from Coal.
Shock freezes my veins, crackling and crawling up my body.
COAL
COAL
okay remember when i said i’d only drag you home early for an emergency
well
EMERGENCY
GET HOME NOW
ASAP
SOS
dad’s ceding full control of christmas to me
like the magic, the title, all of it
Chapter Two
I text Coal I’m coming and, ten minutes later, I bolt into the foyer of Claus Palace and nearly tackle Wren to the floor.
No other staff are around. It’s our off-season, so most everyone is taking a much needed break, but the woodsy entrance to the palace is done out in our perpetual theme: draping greenery, lit candles that scent the air with cinnamon and cloves, jolly red ribbons hanging from the banisters of the two massive mahogany staircases that twist up either side of the room.
Wren rocks backwards, clutching her tablet to her chest. She’s impeccably dressed in a sharp black pantsuit, her gray hair pulled into her usual severe bun. The only crack in her armor is the slight flush to her face from being startled. “Kristopher!”
“I’m sorry—I just—Coal—”
Wren nods, an irritatingly professional storm wall against my thrashing anxiety hurricane. “I was waiting for you. Follow me.”
She heads off, and I fall in step alongside her.
“Where are they?” I ask, not needing to specify.
“The Merry Measure.”
“And Dad’s really…”
She shrugs one shoulder and her jaw twitches, but she’s frustratingly locked down. “So it would seem.”
Ourfather, the one who was so stubborn and prideful that he kept all kinds of disastrous secrets from us in an attempt tosecure our Holiday for you boys—his words—is now… giving up entirely?
I want to ask if she talked him into it. She’s been Dad’s assistant longer than I’ve been alive, but she’s always been exactly this, steady and competent and pulling the strings behind the scenes. She’s never had much luck convincing Dad to do anything he didn’t want to do,especially during the whole winter Holidays debacle. So it’s unlikely she’s the one who got him to give up his control of Christmas.
