Pretty Little Secrets

“You’re much nicer than you were the other day, Santa,” the peeing offender said, showing off her missing front tooth. “You were mean to me then. You said I was dirty.”

“Oh, that was just a joke,” Emily said quickly. “I think you’re great.”

When there was a lull in the line, Mrs. Meriwether emerged from the gingerbread house and marched over to Emily. “You’re doing a great job,” she said. “Certainly better than our old Santa, anyway.”

“It’s been fun,” Emily answered. It was true. The job was a whirlwind of activity, but it was fun to hear what the kids wanted for Christmas. It was even better when they squealed or hugged her, like she’d made their day.

Suddenly, Mrs. Meriwether gasped at something in the distance. Emily turned to see four girls ambling toward Santa Land. They were dressed in pointed hats, green dresses, striped stockings, and shoes that turned up at the toes. As they passed the Santa throne, Emily caught a strong whiff of cigarettes and peppermint schnapps.

The elves. Though they definitely didn’t look merry.

“Girls,” Mrs. Meriwether called, waving. “Can you come here for a minute?”

The tallest elf, who had bright blue hair, wore a lot of makeup, and looked vaguely familiar, rolled her eyes and started over. The others followed. One had dreads and a nose ring, another was an Asian girl with hippie braids and a tough expression, while the final girl was tiny with short hair and a tattoo of a smiling jester on the inside of her wrist. Their eyes flickered cagily over Emily as if they didn’t like what they saw.

“Girls, this is our new Santa. Her name is Emily Fields.” Mrs. Meriwether put a hand on Emily’s arm.

The blue-haired girl guffawed. “A girl Santa?”

“She’s doing a very good job, Cassie.” Mrs. Meriwether’s voice rose in pitch. “Emily, this is Cassie Buckley. And Lola Alvarez”—that was Dreads—“Sophie Chen”—Hippie Braids—“and Heather Murtaugh”—Jester Tattoo. “They’ll be helping you out with whatever you need.”

The elves chuckled and nudged one another, as if to say yeah right. Emily’s gaze returned again to Cassie, the blue-haired girl. All of a sudden, she realized why she looked so familiar: Cassie Buckley had been on the Rosewood Day JV field hockey team with Ali. But what had happened to her? She used to look like all the other field hockey girls: long, blond hair, bronzed skin, and an extensive wardrobe from J. Crew. Now, there were rings through her lip and eyebrow, and she was glaring at Emily with such animosity Emily immediately felt like she’d done something very, very wrong.

“What are you looking at?” Cassie snapped, noticing Emily’s stare.

Emily whipped her head down. “Nothing.”

“You’d better be looking at nothing,” Lola threatened.

Emily glanced around for Mrs. Meriwether, but she had vanished. She might as well have left Emily alone with four rabid, unleashed dogs.

“And you better leave us the hell alone, Santa,” Sophie rasped in a low smoker’s voice.

“Yeah, we have a good thing going here,” Heather growled. “So don’t screw up our shit. Got it?”

“Got it,” Emily whispered.

The elves laughed raucously, linked arms, and sashayed away in a booze-smelling cloud. Emily’s heart sank to the soles of her black Santa boots. What had she gotten herself into? There was no way she could infiltrate the elves. It made breaking into Ali’s clique in sixth grade look easy.

Chapter 4

Elves Have Feelings, Too

The following day, Emily was on her Santa chair again, greeting kids with deep ho ho hos. About a half hour into her shift, she heard the whispers.

“That one’s totally going to puke on her. He ate a whole bucket of Chick-fil-A while waiting in line.”

“I should tell that girl in the Dora the Explorer T-shirt to pull her beard.”

“I should tell her that there’s no such thing as Santa Claus.”

“Girls?” Mrs. Meriwether’s meek voice sounded from behind the camera. “Can someone please man the register?”

The four elves emerged from behind a large Frosty statue, pushed around a mother and two children in line without bothering to say excuse me, and slumped against the register. A man and two kids Emily had just visited with were waiting there. The man cowered a little when he saw the elves, drawing his children in closer.

“That’ll be $19.95,” Cassie said in monotone, looking at the man’s photo order.

“Happy holidays,” Heather said in a hissing voice she might use to deliver a ransom message.

“Actually, can I get their picture in that frame?” The man pointed to a silver frame mounted on the wall behind the register. It was the limited-edition Santa Land collector’s item that cost $79.95. When Mrs. Meriwether worked checkout, she was always pushing people to buy it.

Sophie gazed at the frame and scrunched up her face. “Uch, that means we have to find it in a box in the back.”

“It’s really ugly up close,” Cassie told the man. “And it’s not real silver. It’ll turn your fingers green as soon as you touch it.”

“And it was probably made in China,” Lola added righteously. “By a little girl in a sweatshop who gets paid a penny a day.”

“Daddy?” The littler of the two boys gazed worriedly at him, looking like he was about to cry.

The man nervously tugged at his collar. “Okay. Just the regular photo frame, I guess.”

The elves grumbled as if even this was too much effort. Cassie swiped his credit card, the bell on the end of her hat jingling.

Mrs. Meriwether stifled a sigh and scampered toward Emily. “Any luck?” she whispered.

Emily stared at her. It had only been twenty-four hours, and the elves had barely spoken to her. Everything she did seemed to amuse them—and not in a good way. “I’m trying,” she said.

After the elves rang up the man, practically shoving the frame at him and shooing him away, they all collapsed on the plushy reindeer sofa next to the gingerbread house as though they’d completed a twenty-four-hour shift in the emergency room.

“I think it’s time for Starbucks,” Cassie announced breathlessly. “I don’t know about you guys, but my head’s about to explode from all of this Christmas music.”

“Agreed,” Lola said.

The four girls grabbed their bags from behind a snowman-shaped podium and let themselves out through the white picket-fence gate.

“Guys, wait,” Emily protested, hating how whiny her voice sounded. “We have more customers.” She gestured to the huge line of kids waiting to talk to Santa.

Lola glanced blankly at the customers, as if she’d just noticed them. Heather and Sophie continued walking. “Oh well,” Cassie said, linking elbows with the other girls and pulling them in the direction of Starbucks.

“Why don’t you ring them up, Santa?” Heather called over her shoulder. “Mrs. Meriwether would love you for that.”

“Santa and Mrs. Claus, sittin’ in a tree!” Cassie trilled.

They burst into giggles and skipped away, taking a moment to knock over the giant inflatable bottle of AminoSpa vitamin drink that stood in front of the kiosk in the middle of the promenade.

Emily pressed her fist into the Santa throne, hoping one of the giant foil stars that hung from the mall’s ceiling would fall on the elves’ heads. How was she going to befriend these girls? What would Ali do in this type of situation? Play by their rules? Make herself invaluable? Then again, Ali would never get in this situation.

Sighing deeply, she beckoned the line of kids to move forward. A little boy and girl climbed on Emily’s lap and looked up at her with hopeful expressions. “And what would you like for Christmas?” Emily asked them, trying to sound chipper.

“I want to see the silver panther show in Atlantic City,” the boy piped up. “It’s supposed to be really, really awesome.”

“And I want to go to Atlantic City to gamble,” the girl added, pronouncing it as one word, LantiCity.

“I think you’re a little too young to gamble,” Emily said, eyeing the kids’ mom, who was typing obliviously on her iPhone.

The little girl’s mouth made an upside-down U. “I’m not too young! My mom said I could play the slots!”

The line slowly dwindled and the elves returned from Starbucks. Not that they did any work. Heather slipped a pair of Bose headphones over her ears and ate a couple of candy canes out of the wicker basket on the checkout counter. Sophie chatted with one of the Aéropostale workers. Lola slipped around the corner of the gingerbread house to take a phone call. “So you’re going to be gone for four days?” she said to someone on the other line. “No, it’s fine, Mom. I said it’s fine. It’s just, like, I think there’s something wrong with the car, and . . .” She trailed off. “No, I understand. Rocco needs you. I got it.”

She stabbed the phone to hang up, making a small whimpering sound. When she turned around and saw Emily staring, her eyes narrowed. Emily decided this wasn’t a good time to ask if Lola was okay.

The only girl who hadn’t returned from Starbucks was Cassie. Emily had watched the lead elf carefully, trying to figure out how Cassie could have gone from such a freshly scrubbed, super-popular Rosewood girl to someone who looked like she’d just tumbled out of juvie. For once she actually wished Cassie would recognize Emily from her pictures in the papers after Ali had vanished or when Ian had been arrested. If Cassie knew who she was, it might bridge the gap between them.

As if sensing Emily’s thoughts, Mrs. Meriwether emerged from inside the gingerbread house and glared around Santa Land. “Where’s Cassie?”

Heather lifted a headphone from her ear. “On her break.”

Mrs. Meriwether’s mouth became a small, tight line. “She left for her break an hour ago.”

“No, there she is.” Emily pointed down the corridor. Cassie was sauntering unhurriedly back to Santa Land, a Starbucks cup in her hand.

Mrs. Meriwether darted over to her. “An hour break is not permitted.”

One corner of Cassie’s mouth rose in a smirk. “Sorry. I was busy.”

“You were busy?” Mrs. Meriwether placed her hands on her hips, looking about ready to explode.

“Yeah, busy.” Cassie hitched her purse higher on her shoulder, glaring at Mrs. Meriwether. They looked ready for a standoff of epic proportions.

“Wait a minute.” Emily jumped off the Santa throne and waddled over to Mrs. Meriwether and Cassie, holding the pillow in her stomach so that it didn’t slip into her crotch. “Uh, Mrs. Meriwether, I’m the reason Cassie took such a long break. I asked her to see if she could find me a new Santa hat. Mine is really, really itchy.”

She scratched her scalp for effect, not daring to meet Cassie’s gaze. Of course it was a lie, but Mrs. Meriwether needed to keep her job—and Emily needed to get on the elves’ good side.