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“I think that could be arranged.” Cassie’s eyes swept over the group. “Are we all in?”
“I am.” Heather raised a hand.
“Me, too,” Sophie said. Lola shrugged and said she supposed she was, too.
Cassie stuck her hand out for Emily to shake. “Congratulations, Santa. Welcome.”
“Welcome to what, exactly?” Emily asked, even though she was afraid she knew exactly what the elves meant.
“You’ll see,” Cassie teased, pulling the car back into traffic and making a sharp left turn at a light. The other elves grinned at Emily like she’d just won the jackpot—and in some ways, she had.
But a part of her also felt grosser than the male stripper’s Santa hat. All this time we thought you were a narc. She winced at the thought of Cassie and the others finding out how right they were about her.
Maybe she should just come clean. But if she did, the elves would never speak to her again. And suddenly, something became clear in Emily’s mind: She wanted the elves to speak to her again. She wanted to be their friend—for real. For three long years, she’d longed for another clique to be part of, another group of friends to confide in. She had her old friends, sure, but it had never felt the same as it used to. And maybe the elves were wayward and a little bit crazy, but they were fun and loyal.
Emily dropped her phone in her purse. Forget saving her mom’s baby Jesus. She was going to the dark side.
Chapter 11
The True Meaning of Christmas
“Hey, Santa!” Cassie’s voice rang out just as Emily was changing out of her Santa suit the next day. She poked her head inside the gingerbread house. “Want to grab some food with me?”
“Uh, sure,” Emily answered, kicking the ugly Santa boots off her feet. They had a slight chemical smell from the anti-bedbug treatments absolutely everything in the mall had been sprayed with. All kinds of signs hung around the mall, saying things like BEDBUG FREE! and TREATED WITH ENVIRONMENTALLY FRIENDLY CHEMICALS! Still, even though the mall had been cleansed of bedbugs—not that there had ever been any to begin with—the lines at Santa Land had been thin today. There had been only a smattering of people wandering the promenade as well, quite a few of them suspiciously scratching their heads and necks.
Emily emerged from the gingerbread house just as Mrs. Meriwether was locking up the big Frosty and Rudolph statues so no one would steal them. Cassie was waiting by the gate; she had changed into a pair of black jeans, a faded black AC/DC T-shirt, and red, thick-soled John Fluevogs. It all made her newly blond hair look even whiter.
“Where are the others?” Emily asked, looking around.
Cassie shrugged. “Is Bellissima okay?”
“That’s fine,” Emily answered, feeling pleasantly surprised that Cassie wanted to hang out with her alone.
As Emily let herself out of the gate, she glanced over her shoulder. Luckily Mrs. Meriwether was still occupied with Rudolph and didn’t notice that Emily was hanging out with Cassie. Emily couldn’t tell her and her mother that she was giving up spying. Hopefully, in a week or so, she’d just say she hadn’t been invited along on any of their pranks. It would look like she’d tried and failed instead of deliberately giving up.
As for the baby Jesus paying for Christmas gifts, well, Emily had some thoughts about that, too. She’d received her first Santa Land paycheck yesterday and was astonished to see that Santa paid fifteen dollars an hour—way more than she would have made in another random holiday job. If her family was really hurting for cash this Christmas, she would hand over her earnings to her mom for gifts.
Bellissima, a little Italian bistro, was at the far end of the corridor. Crooning, romantic music—a nice change from Christmas carols—played over the speakers, and the inside of the restaurant featured lots of terra-cotta tile, roughly plastered, goldenrod-colored walls, and little tables covered with black-and-white checked cloths. Unlike the rest of the mall, Bellissima was filled with diners and patrons at the bar. Maybe people didn’t think bedbugs could infiltrate restaurants.
A petite waitress with a high ponytail led the girls to a table in the corner and poured them glasses of sparkling water. “I’m probably just going to get a salad,” Cassie said, opening the big laminated menu.
“Oh, me, too,” Emily said, even though she wasn’t the type of girl who ordered salads at restaurants.
They sat for a moment, studying the menu, and then Cassie tapped her lip. “Although the cannolis look really good, too.”
“Ooh, let’s get them instead,” Emily squealed.
“Whew.” Cassie pressed a hand on her chest. “I was afraid you were one of those obsessive dieter types.”
“Me?” Emily held back a laugh. “Um, definitely not.”
The girls gave their orders, and the waitress swished away. Emily gazed around the restaurant, recognizing a few people she knew from school. Mason Byers and Lanie Iler sat in a corner booth, sipping Italian sodas. Kirsten Cullen and her family were eating bowls of pasta.
“So did you have fun last night?” Cassie swirled the ice around the water glass with her straw.
“Definitely,” Emily admitted. “Those pictures of Stripper Santa were priceless.”
“Totally.” Cassie grinned.
“So how long have you known the other girls, anyway?” Emily asked. “Have you guys been friends for a long time?”
Cassie cast her eyes to the right, thinking. “We met last year—we were elves at the Santa Land at the White Birch Mall, which Sophie’s dad used to manage, and decided to do it again this year. It’s kind of a big joke between us. But we didn’t go to the same high schools or anything. I went to Rosewood Day.”
