“Don’t you watch where you’re going?” I bark, leaning over to salvage what I can of my groceries.
He laughs it off. “I must’ve turned right into you as you were leaving, miss.”
“That’s theproblem.Use your damn eyes,” I snap again, aggressively shoving items back into my melting paper bags. “And you don’t even have thedecencyto help me pick up whatyoumade me spill.”
Shooting a glare over my shoulder, I see the man still waving the bell and shrugging. “This bell won’t ring itself—no seconds to waste.”
Okay, that’s it. This is thelasttime Christmas makes me waste my hard-earned money.
“If you don’t either stop ringing that damn thing, or move along…” I stand up, clutching the remaining groceries tight to my chest. “I will shove that bell up your ass and have you ringing like one of Santa’s reindeer every time you take a step.”
He straightens out, the bell stopping with his arm still raised in the air. “You are such a grinch, lady.”
“So clever, haven’t heard that before,” I mutter as I turn and hustle back to my car.
This never would’ve happened if it weren’t Christmas. I’d still have all my paid-for groceries. And my bag wouldn’t be disintegrating with every step.
And really, agrinch? So original. Even in his anger at me—which is unreasonable, in my opinion, sincehisgroceries didn’t get spilled—he still has Christmas on the brain.
Disgustingly, even my own threat related to Christmas. I’m going to blame the Christmas music that was blaring inside for that.
I slam my back door shut after I set my remaining things inside, then get into the driver seat. Sticking the key in the ignition, I pause before turning it.
Faintly in the distance, I can hear a rumbling. Accompanying it—Christmas music. Dear God, don’t tell metodayis the Christmas parade.
Not now, while I’m out and about.
Starting the car, I pull out of the spot and leave the parking lot. I begin the drive home, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the music and rumbling gets louder. Closer.
At the end of the road, I can see a closure sign. You’ve got to be kidding me.
I detour, but the next road has the same closure sign posted, and I can see crowds of people walking alongside brightly lit-up floats.
What an inconvenience. They can’t do this at a fairground, or something? Theyhaveto take over roads?
People have places to be, like me.
I need to be home and away from all this festive crap—and now I have to take the world’s longest detour just to get there.
It’ll probably take twice the usual amount of time. Great.
This is just another reason why I hate the damn holidays.
CHAPTER 4
FELIX
It’s Friday, the day of Joy’s work party where I, along with the others, am going to be theentertainment. We’ve been working on some Christmas costumes and moves to really match the vibe.
Joy has been a bundle of nerves today—actually, all week. A combination of excitement and anxiety for the party she’s organized.
She wants everyone to have fun, has hyped herself up to finally ask Tulip out, and is worried about her boss’s reaction to the decorations—if she happens to see them.
All of this has been told to me many,manytimes overmanytexts throughout the week. I don’t think she’s ever texted me this much in a short span of time.
It’s time to go to her work though, and give these bored nine-to-fivers something exciting. I bet they’ll talk about this for the rest of their lives.
Or at least, like, a year.
