How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

Christmas Kringle? No, thank you. She was still very scared.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she constantly declared.

Her hat was in the ring, for it was a Kringletown honor.

And guess who totally noticed? The grumpy Cole/Connor.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Okay, if I’m going to sit back and watch this story unfold, the least I can do is set you straight. It’s just Cole…no Connor involved.”

Narrator: Yes, but Connor rhymed with honor, so it worked better.

“You’re giving readers the wrong impression.”

Narrator: Would you have preferred if I found a way to rhyme Cole with A-hole?

“Never mind.”

Narrator: That’s what I thought. You focus on your part, and I’ll handle the narrating. Now, back to the story.

“Did you see the names that were put in for the Christmas Kringle?” Max asks as he walks up to me from a shift out in the forest. It’s about noon and he just got done setting up tree plots with families investing in the ever-growing forest so we can keep the farm constantly thriving.

I open the reindeer feed bin and pour a sack of food inside, letting the new food go in first and then topping it off with the old food I already pulled out.

“Does it look like I stand around Ornament Park waiting to see who’s entering the asinine competition?”

“Oooh, you’re extra grumpy today. Any reason why? Maybe because there’s a certain sister now in town?” When I glance at him and catch him waggling his eyebrows, it takes everything in me not to grip the back of his head and dip it into the reindeer feed.

“I’m regularly like this,” I remind him on a huff.

“I would agree that this attitude is a normal occurrence for you, but I also feel there’s a bit of snap to it. Some might even say spicy.”

I roll up the empty burlap bag of feed and store it away for when I go to the feed farm to restock. “Is there a point to you coming in here? Or is it just to annoy me?”

“Yes, I already said it, but I shall repeat myself. I came to see if you saw who entered the Kringle contest.”

And here it is, the most annoying thing about this town where I live. December hits, and all they start talking about is who is going to be named Town Kringle for the year.

Confused?

Let me lay it out for you.

A few years back, the proprietors in the town gathered with their Christmas cups full of mulled cider, called in the honorary mayor, Bob Krampus, and came up with the idea to start the Kringle competition as a way to draw in even more people from out of town. Throughout the month of December, those who enter the competition have certain tasks and mini tests they’re graded on, and then all those scores are accumulated to see who is the merriest of them all. That’s the person named Town Kringle—a totally pointless title they get to lord over the rest of us yearlong. When it was introduced, everyone was beside themselves to the point that they limited it to one entry per household. And each competition goes hand in hand with one of the town’s proprietors acting as the judge.

For example, handmade candy canes are judged by Old Man Chadwick, who owns the candy shop in town. He gets to cut people down on their candy cane making abilities and gather some advertising for his own store as he boasts about his products being better, and points are awarded to the participants.

This way, the businesses in town are offered some sponsorship and advertisement while keeping the competitive spirit alive.

The whole thing is stupid. I’ve never entered, and I have zero plans to ever enter.

But the people of Kringle, they think differently. To them, it’s the greatest honor of all time. To them, this is what the year has built up to. For the entire month of December, it’s all they ever talk about.

And I thought Max was better than them, but I guess not.

“Like I said, I don’t care who enters.”

“You don’t?” Max replies with a frown. “Huh. I guess I was wrong then.”

He’s baiting me, and unfortunately, I take the bait.

“Fine. Who the hell is it?”

He smirks. “Your new neighbor.”

“New neighbor?” I ask, confused. “I don’t have a new—” I pause, my mind short-circuiting as I start to clue in. “Wait…” I meet Max’s gaze and he slowly nods. “Storee entered the contest?”

“Yup. Saw her name up on the board today. It’s all anyone is talking about. They’re drawing conclusions about why. Some think it’s because Cindy can’t compete this year, so Storee is taking her place. Others think it’s because she’s trying to make up for what happened to Mrs. Fiskers by taking part in celebrating the town tradition.”

Storee’s going to need more than participation in a Christmas competition to redeem herself after pushing a fifty-year-old woman down a hill and into a frozen river.

“And there is a small batch of townies who think she’s out to ruin Christmas and possibly take out the signature tree again—but that’s mainly coming from the Dankworths. I personally think she’s trying to irritate you.”

“Why would that irritate me?” I ask, even though I can feel my blood pressure start to rise.

“I don’t know.” Max leans against a wooden pillar in the barn. “You tell me.”

“I don’t care what she does,” I say as I spin away and move over to the hose to fill up the reindeers’ water.

“And yet you said that like you do care.”

I pause, gripping the hose tightly, because…the fucking audacity.

After everything she said about this town, she’s going to try to be the Christmas Kringle? She’s going to act like the goddamn belle of the ball and try to show her Christmas spirit? Like I said, I don’t give a shit who wins or about anything in the competition, but to see her try to snatch up a top honor in a town she hates?

Yeah, hates.

From her lips to my ears. Hate.

I don’t fucking think so.

“You know, people think she has a good chance at winning too,” Max presses. “Given that Cindy has come in second the last few years, they think that with her guidance, Storee can pull the win.”

That’s great…I don’t care.

I really shouldn’t care.

Sure, it’s annoying that someone like her would even attempt the competition, but I don’t care.

I turn on the hose and direct the water into the trough, trying to ignore the irritating feelings pulsing through me.

“In all honestly, I could see it happening. New girl in town, embracing Kringle for everything it has to offer, and being the merriest of them all. She has what it takes.”

No, she doesn’t.

Not that I know what it takes, because like I said, I don’t pay attention, but she most definitely does not have what it takes.

“And honestly, I think I might be rooting for her.”

That makes me snap because the fuck he is.

I turn off the water, set the hose down, and face my friend. “You will not be rooting for her. And no, she doesn’t have what it takes. Not even close.”

“Oh?” he asks, lifting one eyebrow. “I’m surprised you have an opinion.”

“It’s not an opinion; it’s a fact. And she doesn’t deserve to win. She shouldn’t even be in the competition. She’s not part of the town; she doesn’t live here. She doesn’t even like it here. Yeah, she told me that to my face. She said she hates this town, called it stupid.”

Max’s face goes from playful to hurt. All joking is aside now.

“She said that?”

I nod.

“When?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I practically huff as I turn to pick up the hose, but Max stops me.

“No, it clearly does because you’re angry about it. When did she say that to you?”

I twist my lips to the side, hating that I even brought it up, because I’ve bottled up this interaction for a long fucking time. But then one mention of her just pushes me over the edge, and I spill everything.

“It was…uh, it was the night my parents passed.”

“What?” he asks, his face growing even more serious. “You never told me that. What did she say?”

Looks like I’m unloading.

I lean against a wooden beam. “I had just found out about the accident but didn’t know any details. I was sitting on my porch, waiting for more news, when she was walking down the street. This was after Mrs. Fiskers was dumped in the river. Anyway, Storee spotted me and joined me on the porch. It was a common place for us to gather and just talk. At that point, we knew each other well enough for me to realize she was upset, so I asked her what was wrong, trying to get my mind off what had happened to my parents. Well, that was a huge goddamn mistake because she went on a tirade about the town. How the Christmas year-round thing was stupid, the stores were annoyingly cheesy, and that she hated coming here to visit. Just basically shit on everything about Kringle. No holding back—she just went for it.”

“Jesus. What did you say?”

“Nothing.” I cross my arms over my chest and toe the ground. “I said nothing, because how could I? I was just so…lost. Thinking, how could my parents have been in an accident together? How was I going to live without them if they died? She didn’t know about the accident, so a part of me can forgive what she said because of that. But in that moment, when I was simply gutted…well, you know. She left, on fucking Christmas of all days, and she didn’t see how the town rallied behind me when it was confirmed that my parents hadn’t survived.” And then, all I could do was drown in grief. “This town has its annoyances and can be tough to live in at times, but the things she said about it weren’t true. They angered me, and my grief is wrapped up in that too. I’m still here because of how this town picked me up when I was at my lowest. How it looks after its own.”

“Yeah, I get that. I know your loyalty.” He scratches the back of his head. “Man, I wonder what changed her mind. Do you think she likes this town now?”

“No,” I answer. I’m honestly not sure, but given that I can’t seem to let go of a grudge, I refuse to paint her in a good light.

“Well, everyone thinks she has a good chance at winning.”

“She doesn’t deserve to win.”

She doesn’t deserve the glory of the title. Pointless though it may be.

She doesn’t even deserve to be part of the competition at all.

It’s not fair.

I glance out at the reindeer, my mind whirling…

His brain spun with thoughts, some big and some small.

And then an idea came to him, the greatest idea of them all…

“Oh shit, I have a thought,” I say, a grin tugging on my lips. “A wonderfully horrible thought.”

“I’m listening,” Max says, leaning in.

“What if I enter the contest?”

“You?” Max scoffs on a laugh. “Dude, come on, be serious.”

“I am serious,” I say. “What if I enter? It would easily become the talk of the town, eclipsing any conversation about Storee. No one would expect it, and given the standing I have here as the person who takes care of Santa’s reindeer, I could take the win. Steal Christmas, some might say.”

Max stares at me, blinking a few times.

When he doesn’t answer, I press, “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve lost your mind.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m starting to see it all clearly. This is the perfect way to fix the problem.”

“Um, okay, first of all, there really isn’t a true problem here. Sure, Storee said some shit things, but maybe she’s really trying here. Secondly, dude, you know what the competition is like; you know they accept applications and choose the contestants they want, and you are not that kind of p erson.” Whispering, he continues, “They judge you on jolliness. I don’t think you have a jolly bone in your body.”

Oh really?

Not a jolly bone in my body…wait until he gets a load of this.

Shoulders back, chest puffed, I smile widely, flashing all of my teeth, my eyes crinkling in the corners.

Max takes a step back, shielding his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Showing you my jolliness.”

“Well, fuck, stop. It’s terrifying.”

My smile droops and my eyes narrow. “It was a nice smile.”

“How would you know? You didn’t look in a mirror.” Max shakes his head. “That was uncomfortable to witness.”

“Oh, fuck off. Like you could do better.”

“Is that a challenge?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Yeah…it is.”

“Fine.” He sticks his hands in his pockets, leans a little to the left, and pops an eyebrow and a smirk at the same time, flashing me some sort of movie star smile.

I try to look away, act disgusted, attempt to shield my eyes, but hell, it’s a great smile. Nice to look at.

Some might say a jolly fucking experience.

“I can see from your stare that you’re mesmerized.”

“Oh fuck off,” I scoff.

He chuckles for a few seconds and then rubs his palms together. “In all seriousness, man, this is a bad idea. You’re going to scare people more than inject them with holiday spirit. Hate to say it, but you’re not the jolliest. The…the town proprietors might ask you to leave the competition, and that will be more humiliating than anything.”

I shake my head. “No, you’re wrong. This feels right. This feels like it’s meant to be,” I say, feeling the high of this wonderful, yet terrible, idea.

“Okay, I can see that you’ve reached a manic state, so I’m going to let you live in it for a moment as I remind you exactly what’s involved in the competition.” He uses his fingers to tick off the different tasks. “The Eggnog Wars. Not sure you’ve ever made eggnog in your life.”

“I’ve drunk it.”

“Not a qualification, but okay. Then there’s Upcycle Christmas, the human diorama in front of the whole town, and you don’t do public scenes.”

“Nothing like getting out of my comfort zone to get the blood pumping.”

“The Fruitcake Festivus,” he says. “You hate fruitcake.”

“And this gives me the perfect opportunity to make it better,” I counter.

Max’s face shows he’s annoyed. “The light display…the candy cane making.”

I wave my hand at him in dismissal. “I was born to hang lights. Who do you think hangs them for the cul-de-sac? And candy cane making…well, that I’ll have to work around.”

“Okay,” Max says with a grin, looking like he has me on his next point. “The Christmas caroling. You really going to sing at the Caroling Café, put on a public performance? You don’t sing in front of other people, dickhead, unless it’s family.”

“I haven’t yet. But you’ve heard my voice—some might say it sounds like angels are whispering to you.”

“You are so full of shit,” Max scoffs. “Dude, this is not for you. You know it, I know it. This is going to end in tragedy.”

“It won’t.” I shake my head. “Do you know why?” I stare at my best friend, arms crossed, a Grinch-sized smile on my face.

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to like what you say next?”

“It’s not going to be a tragedy, because you’re going to enter the competition with me as my holly jolly sidekick.”

“No fucking way,” Max says. “No. Not happening. History has shown u s that the holly jolly sidekick is the one who’s humiliated the most. That’s why there aren’t many in the competition.”

“How could I possibly humiliate you?” I ask. “You’re my lifeline in all of this—I’d never humiliate you.”

“I don’t believe you. You have that look in your eyes, the one that says you will win at all costs.”

“That’s right, I will win at all costs, which means I have no issue standing on a table at the Caroling Café and belting out ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Fucking Reindeer’ while you shower me with fake snow.”

“Pretty sure fucking isn’t in the title.”

“And while you shower me with fake snow,” I continue, ignoring him completely, “I’ll hop around, arms tucked in, flashing my hoof hands and making a scene of it all. You will look positively serious in comparison.”

“Do you hear what you’re saying?”

“I do.” I nod. “And I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life. If Storee wants to pretend like she’s a part of this town, like this town means something to her, then she’s going to have to go up against me.” I point to my chest. “If anything, this town means more to me than to anyone else living here. I might bitch about it during this time of year, and I might have some dark history concerning this month in particular, but maybe…maybe this is something I need,” I say, my voice growing soft.

The high starts to taper off and the realization begins to set in.

The realization of how alone this season makes me feel.

My family’s traditions, once shared every year, are now faded into distant memories. The Maxheimers made sure I was never alone at Christmas. That I received gifts. Ate copious amounts of food. Felt included.

But I never had a Christmas with my parents again. That all stopped nearly a decade ago.

The spirit of Christmas—no longer a warm, familiar embrace, now just a mere afterthought. That’s what it had to become.

And a season that should be full of the happy smiles of my family gathering around a tree is now empty, bleak, and just another day to scratch off the calendar.

Sensing the shift in mood, Max places his hand on my shoulder. “Cole, man…”

“They would have loved seeing me do this,” I say solemnly. “Fuck, my dad would have cackled his ass off while my mom would have been my holly jolly sidekick.” I look him in the eyes. “I hate this time of year. And don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to your family for adopting me as one of theirs, but that night my parents passed, they took away all of the magic with them.”

“I understand, man,” he says and then grimaces. “Fuck, fine, I’ll do it.”

“Max, I didn’t say that—”

“I know.” He nods. “But you’re my best friend, and I know you’d do the same for me. Reluctantly, but you’d do the same.”

I smile softly at him. “I’d bitch about it the entire time, but I would.”

Max chuckles. “Yeah, I know.” He clasps his hands together and blows out a heavy breath. “Okay, if we’re going to do this, then we’re going to do it right. There will be no cutting corners, no scoffing at ideas. We gotta be all in.” He quirks a brow at me. “You all in?”

He holds his hand out to me, and I take it, offering him a strong shake. “I’m all in.”