“Scrooge the freaking McDuck,” he says.
A laugh bubbles from my throat. “I think you mean Ebenezer Scrooge.”
“I think you’re staying in the Owner’s Suite.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Todd and his team are distracted, making wagers on who’s going to find the most clues, and that gives me an idea.
“Okay, how about we make a bet,” I say. Coop cocks his head to the side. “If I solve more puzzles than you, you have to wear one of your Christmas face tattoos to tomorrow’s meetings. And you can’t say a word about it.”
“Wow. You’re talking real stakes here. Okay, okay. Fine, but if I win,youhave to wear one of my jerseys tomorrow,andyou have to tell everyone that it’s because you lost a bet to me because I’m smarter than you.”
“What? No way.”
“Way,” Coop says. “Unless you’re chicken.”
The game master announces that the doors will open in ten seconds, and the energy in the waiting room shifts.
We both spin around, waiting at the door. The timer flashes and starts counting down from ten. “I’m not chicken,” I say,adrenaline coursing through my veins and speeding up my breathing. “I’m going to break you like a stale gingerbread house.”
“Then I guess it’s on like a bon bon.”
The countdown beeps.
3, 2, 1?—
The doors fly open, and we run into the room.
Snowy white faux wood planks cover the walls of the room, and decorative white beams connect the walls to the ceiling. It’s designed to look like the elves’ workshop in the North Pole. Christmas music plays quietly over the speakers, and all around the room are Christmas decorations—garlands, huge red bows, twinkle lights, and a massive Christmas tree, with dozens of presents at its base. A table too short for an adult sits in the center of the room, with twelve small chairs around it. There’s an Etch A Sketch in the middle of the table.
“I guarantee that Etch A Sketch has instructions on it,” I say.
“That doesn’t count as solving a puzzle, you know,” Coop says.
“I know,” I say, even though I don’t. I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to do, mostly because Coop wouldn’t stop messing with me when the game master told us the rules.
Todd sees me pointing to the Etch A Sketch, and he picks it up.
“It’s the first puzzle!” he says. Coop bumps my hip with his. Todd reads the message, his coworkers poised for action.
“Of the food groups, Buddy loves four:
Candy, candy corn, syrup, and more.
Find all twelve of the one that’s missing,
Then underneath the mistletoe, you’ll be kissing.”
“The one that’s missing?” one of Todd’s friends asks. “The one what?”
“The food groups,” I say. “What are Buddy’s four food groups from the movie? Candy, candy corn, syrup …”
“Candy canes!” Coop shouts.
“And we need to find twelve!” Todd yells.
