Cindy Callaghan - The Girl Who Ruined Christmas

Copyright 2021 Cindy Callaghan

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Published by SparkPress, a BookSparks imprint,

A division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC

Phoenix, Arizona, USA, 85007

www.gosparkpress.com

Published 2021

Printed in the United States of America

Print ISBN: 978-1-68463-115-5

E-ISBN: 978-1-68463-116-2

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021910250

Interior design by Tabitha Lahr

All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This book is dedicated to the many people whove shaped some of my most wonderful holiday memories. To name them all would be impossible, but here are a few standouts:

Mom, who bought the red and green paper for paper chains, and then more paper for more paper chains, and more paper...

Kevin, who took me to cut down my first tree.

Happy, for Thank you, dear Santa in response to a Hannah Montana microphone, a phrase that now lives in infamy.

Evan, who nearly got coal one year... it was too close to be funny.

Ellie, who gleefully opened tickets to Jaquille and Hydett.

Finn, who for one month loves nothing more than sleeping under the tree, and Bergen, who cherished a month of batting ornaments off the bottom limbs.

Grandma, who let me put my thumbprint in the dough of her thumbprint cookies.

PopPop, who risked his life to hold the pinata way overhead so we kids could whack it every year.

Rache, who taught me about the Feast of the Seven Fishes.

Chris, with whom I celebrated that lesser-known holiday of Christmas Eve Eve.

Traci, whose birthday is the 26th and adored our rendition of Happy Birthday, which was purposely sung as badly as we could muster... I mean, baaaaad.

Don, who cut intricate paper snowflakes to tape on the red wall in their basement.

Aunt Vene and Uncle Roy, who hid Moms gift of a puppy (Gyzmo) until the big day.

Aunt Helga, who always, without fail, got me that one last present that I opened late Christmas afternoon.

Joe and Missy, who hid the Yeti cooler, among other things, from Kevin.

Mel and Jen, with whom Ellie and I were stranded in NYC during a snowstorm that crippled all transportation.

Marinis Produce Stand, who make the holidays special for our whole community with their Christmas trees and gorgeous handmade decorations, and in many ways inspired the fictitious Schneiders Tree Farm in this book.

Dad, who read aloud in front of the fireplace, and all parents who read aloud to their children. And to Theodore Geisel for The Grinch and Clement C. Moore for Twas the Night Before Christmas.

And to all readers, wishing you and yours a happy and safe holiday season.

I f you search for images of teen locked in Harper Hollow Falls jail, youd see a picture of thirteen-year-old Brady Bancroft in soaked Chuck Taylors and frozen Hello Kitty socks. The expression on her face would say, This whole town hates me.

That girl would be me.

Im Brady Bancroft.

A week earlier: November 27

M e and my best friend Lou Lou sip bubble tea and scope out the best place to plant ourselves on the beach.

Here? I ask and point to a spot near a group of sandcastle builders.

Lou Lou faces toward the sun as if trying on this spot, because it might somehow feel different than another spot. Yup. Good. She spreads her blanket and notices me eying the struggling castle sculptors.

I ask her, Should I?

They do look like they need you.

I drop my beach bag and hand Lou Lou my tea. I approach the castle makers and offer, I could give you a hand...

When the man nods I help myself to a nearby icing spatula, and in a few flicks of my wrist Ive smoothed and rounded the turret perfectly into shape.

I accept his thanks and return to my towel and tea.

Lou says, Youre like a superhero.

Taking my position to bask in the warm southern California sun, I brag, One of my many talents.

Before closing my eyes to catch a snooze so that my vocal cords will be well rested for a cappella group practice later, I see Allie MoskowitzOrange County Junior Highs it girlleave the Venice Beach sidewalk and head in our direction.

Shes holding a remote-controlled gadget in one hand, while a second gadget flies overhead.

Hi, Allie, I say.

Hi, girls. She flashes her bright smile. As far as It Girls go, Allie is one of the good ones.

Whats that? Lou asks.

Oh my gosh, the latest. Isnt it amaze? It can take aerial pictures and send them right to my phone.

Lou asks, Lemme see.

Oh, Im not taking pictures right now, silly. But I could, if I wanted to.

I ask, What do you want to take pictures of?

Allie sighs. Im not really into taking pictures.

Me and Lou Lou exchange a look of confusion.

Then whats it for? I ask.

Allie says, as if the answer is totally obvious, To have.

My pause tells her that I dont understand.

Just to have. You know what they say, the one who dies with the most toys wins.

I sort of nod. And notice Allie salivating over the sight of my purple-green drink a quarter of the way filled with popping boba.

Dont even tell me thats the new lavender flavor.

It is. Want to try?

Allie takes the cup and sips. Mmm. Best. Invention. Ever.

Better than that? I indicate her remote thing.

Tough call. Luckily, we dont have to choose. We can have them both, right? Then Allie says, See you tonight at practice, and we watch her walk back toward the sidewalk.

She took your drink, Lou Lou says.

I know.

Lou Lou hands me her drink. I woulda done the same thing.

I sip Lous chocolate tea-based drink and set it between us in the sand.

Our eyes follow Allie as she walks along staring at her phone, drinking my drink, her hover camera over her head, oblivious that shes stepping on peoples towels and into kids sand projects.

Is she horrible? I ask.

Only mildly. Lou tilts her head. And not on purpose, I think.

Im so jelly of her, I confess.

Me too, Lou says.

We share a laugh at how stupid it is to be jealous of Allie, and then Lou asks, So, New York State?