I owe a lot of people big-time for making Decked with Holly possible. Specifically, my amazing editor, Megan Records, and the talented team of people at Kensington-Teenthank you! This book has been an absolute pleasure for me, and Im so grateful for both the opportunity to write it and for your tireless support behind it.
My incredible agent, Laurie McLean, deserves a medal for laughing at my jokes, putting up with my pranks, and helping me realize my dreams. Im so fortunate to be navigating the perilous waters of publishing with her by my side!
Thank you, Mom, for loving both me and this book so freaking much. Not necessarily in that order. Youre the best!
Thank you, Dena Bates, for taking me on so many incredible adventures by land, sea, and air. I love you, Grmma!
Julie and Abigail Dockducklings are still cuter than bunnies. But you ladies tend to be right about everything else. I love you both!
Pam van Hylckama, Shanyn Day, Julie Kagawa, Laura Fraley, Brigid Kemmerer, Erica ORourke, Nina Berry, Jenn Rush, Emily Guasco, Diana Rosengard, Wes Parker, Olivia Kelly, Jennifer Carolyna special thank you for using your immense powers for good... at least when directed toward me!
And last but not least, Id like to send out a super-sized hug to the writing community that has welcomed me with such warmth. Authors. Writers. Dreamers. Bloggers. Reviewers. Readers. Tweeps. Friends. All of you have filled my life with laughter and joy. Thank you!
Chapter 1
Holly
I looked like a skank.
I tugged down the green bit of monstrosity wrapped tightly around my waist so that it brushed mid-thigh and tried to remember why I put up with Jennifer Lawley as my best friend. This time she had gone too far.
I cant do this!
It wasnt the first time I had tried to mutiny, but given that I was now wearing the aforementioned green bit of monstrosity instead of staring at it on a hanger, I guess she was justified in believing that Id back down.
But never again.
She plumped up her already cherry-red lips and rolled her eyes at me in the mirror.
Come on, Holly. Its not so bad.
Not so bad! I sputtered. We look like mutants! Worse than that! We look like slutty mutants whose clothing went through a wood chipper!
We look like Santas helpers. Get into the spirit of things, already. Tis the season, you know!
Right, because nothing perks up a girl more than hearing Christmas carols for hours on end while being forced to ask little children if theyve been naughty or nice lately. And while I hadnt actually asked any kids about their naughty-to-nice ratio, it was only because I had yet to join the crowds in the Westside Pavilion and serve my time as Santas little helper. I still knew what was coming. Crying babies and overprotective parents who snapped orders and bitched into their cell phones about their stupid yearly Christmas cards. And given the very short nature of our Santas little helpers skirts, I had a feeling that Jen and I would be on the receiving end of more than a few crude suggestions about how we could help certain boys fully enjoy their Christmas season.
Let me tell you: You have to be desperate to agree to become an elf in Los Angeles. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
But thats exactly what I was: desperate. Maybe if I had an allowance, or a regular source of income, I wouldnt have been taking a Christmas cruise to the Mexican Riviera with my grandpa and (wince) my cousins with absolutely nothing appropriate to wear. But my grandpa believes I need to know the true value of money, and I know it, all right... its the difference between being mocked and being accepted.
Under normal circumstances, Jen would tell me how lucky I am to have a grandpa who wants to celebrate his seventy-fifth birthday in paradise. She would be envious of me for trading in smoggy Los Angeles for sunny beaches and fruity drinks. Under normal circumstances, I would be thrilled to go myself... if it werent for my cousins. To be fair, Andrew and Jacob are okay. I mean, theyre teenage boys who would be more than a little interested in noting the length of Jens short skirt. But theyre relatively harmless.
Allison and Claire, on the other hand, are like the Olsen twins on bitch steroids.
I dont think Im exaggerating here.
Allison and Claire are an amalgamation of all the twenty-first-century social problems: They are self-entitled, materialistic jerks who enjoy online bullying, teasing, and general unpleasantness as hobbies. They also have a talent for detecting every crack in someones self-esteem, which they then hammer away at until the tormented person breaks into a million shattered pieces.
And Im lucky enough to share a gene pool with them.
Which is why I know from firsthand experience that if I show up for the cruise wearing the same jeans Ive had for the last two years, theyll start calling me Annie again. As in Little Orphan Annie. Because ever since my parents died in a car accident thats exactly what Ive beenan orphan.
Real nice, right?
But its not all bad. I mean, its not like I ever knew my parents in any meaningful way. Apparently, I was a fussy baby, so at the nine-month mark they asked my grandpa to watch me for a weekend while they took a much needed mini-break.
And when my exhausted dad fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into a tree, what started as a two-day visit turned into a permanent living situation.
My grandpa was great about the whole thing. There were never any parental duties that he skipped out on. He supported me when I became a Girl Scout, helped me sell boxes of cookies, and then hugged me tightly when I told him that none of the other girls liked me. He told me they just didnt appreciate my chutzpah the way he did. And even though he went to synagogue every week, he never pressured me to have a Bat Mitzvah or go by Rachel, my Jewish-sounding middle name. Grandpa understood that after a brutal ten hours of labor on Christmas Day, his Jewish daughter and her Catholic-raised husband thought the prickly name Holly was appropriate.
If only they could see me nowdressed up like a tarty elf.
I tugged down my skirt once again.
I mean it, I told Jen. You said I only had to try on the costume and then I could back out. Well, I tried it on. I look like a holiday hooker. Can we go now? I need to start handing copies of my rsum out to department stores.