Page 5 of How to Lose an Omega in Twelve Days
As he stopped the car, my phone chimed, signaling the ride had come to an end. I reluctantly tipped him; wondering how much my father had paid him to spy on me. Then, climbed out and started hauling my suitcase out of the trunk.
“Would you look at this snow? How Christmasy,” he said.
“I don’t like snow either,” I lied, wondering just what my father’s limits were.
“Suit yourself,” he laughed. “Merry Christmas!”
“Bah! Humbug!” The silly phrase was a little easier to stomach than saying I hated Christmas.
I started wheeling my suitcase toward the resort, tryingnotto look up and admire how it looked in the beautiful blanket of snow.
“Bah, humbug?” came a mocking voice from behind me. “You can’t be serious!”
I turned to see a guy about my age standing on the sidewalk. I could swear there hadn’t been anyone else outside a moment ago. He was human too. And grinning widely at me from beneath a comically long ski hat. It hugged his head tightly, thentumbled down in a long red and white striped tube that dragged several feet on the ground behind him.
“Um…” I said, torn between complimenting the fun hat or being annoyed he was listening in. “It seemed like the most appropriate reply,” I finally said.
“To Merry Christmas?” said. “More appropriate than just saying Merry Christmas back? Or Happy Holidays, if it suits you better. Happy Hannukah. Blessed Yule. Happy Kwanzaa. Some people say Happy Christmas. Feliz Navidad. Joyeux Noël. Frohe Weihnachten. Or just a simpleand a Happy New Year!”
I gaped at him. Was he for real?! Oh no. No, no. Had my father hired him too? Was I going to have people tailing me waiting for me to slip up this entire time? I took a deep breath.
“I’m just not feeling the Christmas spirit,” I told him. And gods, if this kept up, I wasn’t going to!
If anything, that made him smile more. “Jake Winter.” He held out a hand.
“Shaun Snowdon,” I said, giving his hand a quick shake. I couldn’t be rude to a guest, after all.
“Wow, you must hate your name.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” I growled.
He did not excuse me. He fell into step with me instead.
“You didn’t pick a great spot to spend the holidays if you don’t like Christmas,” he quipped.
“I’m working,” I said flatly.
“Pretty place for it. If you like snow,” he said. “How long are you here for?”
“Through the 31st.” Before he could say anything else, I escaped into the firstEmployees Onlydoor that I saw. “Good day,” I said, closing the door in his face.
I couldn’t believe my father. Bad enough he wanted me to pretend to hate Christmas, but to send spies to make sure I was?I snarled under my breath before hunting down the manager on duty.
Once I was all checked in and settled into my room, I took one of the night lifts to the top of the ski slopes. I headed to a tiny ski patrol shed.
“Evening,” said a man sitting at the desk inside.
“Hi,” I said. “Going for a run.”
“ID?”
I leaned closer and let my eyes change.
“Have fun,” he said, waving me through.
I went out the back door and down a set of stairs to a tunnel. As soon as I got into the tunnel I shoved my clothes into a cubby and shifted. Snow leopards weren’t built for long runs, but I still sprinted down the tunnel eagerly, periodically bounding to one side and springing off the walls as I went.
As soon as I was out in the snow I dodged and weaved through trees, heading for a rock wall. I scampered up it happily, trying to ignore the crappy events of the day and enjoy an evening in the snow.
