The Christmas Clash

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Books. Change. Lives.

Copyright © 2022 by Suzanne Park

Cover and internal design © 2022 by Sourcebooks

Cover design by Liz Dresner

Cover art © Jin Kim

Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

Published by Sourcebooks Fire, an imprint of Sourcebooks

P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567–4410

(630) 961-3900

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Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file with the Library of Congress.

Contents

Front Cover

Title Page

Copyright

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Back Cover

For my nerdy family.

One

Chloe

The projectile pacifier grazed my left ear.

I’m so sorry, would you mind grabbing his binky off the floor? Little Timmy’s got quite a temper when he’s hungry.

Important note: Timmy was not in fact very little. I suspected he was five, maybe six. Way too old for a binky. He liked to bite them during our photo sessions, and they made a grating chewy noise as he gnawed against the wet, rubbery plastic with his teeth.

I handed the pacifier to his mom, and she scrubbed it down with an organic baby wipe.

Mommy, I want a Corn-Dog-on-a-Stick and a slushie. I’m hunnnngryyyyy.

See? Not exactly baby or toddler food. Much too old for a binky.

I smiled at Timmy. We’re almost done, kid. Just one more picture! Smile at the camera. Say ‘Orange Julius!’

Timmy perked up, and his red sweater vest smoothed out as he sat up straight. Orange Jule-yesss!

CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

Mommy, can I have an Orange Jule-yesss?

I stepped forward and showed his mom the last photo. Timmy had opted for a Santa-free picture, but one with a lit tree, a fireplace, and piles of presents. Meanwhile, Santa Dave took the opportunity to step out for a few minutes to go vape in the east wing loading zone. In the photo, not-so-little Timmy sat erect, looking at the camera, beaming from ear to ear. Perhaps visions of Orange Julius drinks danced in his head as the flashes went off.

Timmy’s mom sighed with relief. I swear, you’re a miracle worker. She walked over to my elf tips welcome! jar and dropped in a ten-dollar bill. You’re the only one who can get him to smile like that. Thank you. No wonder they call you the baby whisperer photographer.

It was true. I had a reputation for being a baby whisperer of sorts. Also a corn-dog-eating kindergartner whisperer. It was the one of the few things I was good at.

I’m so glad Santa’s Village is open earlier this year. This gives me a head start on sending out holiday cards and buying gifts. You can’t be too prepared, right? She held out her hand toward her son. Ready to go get a drink and snack?

He pulled a pacifier from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. He scrambled off Santa’s chair and waved at me while he exited with his mom.

Santa’s Village opened earlier and earlier every year, and the day after Halloween was this holiday season’s soft opening. It was the result of Christmas creep, which was in turn related to the pumpkin spice latte economic effect, when stores sneakily promoted the fall season earlier and earlier into the summer months. The fact that gigantic bags of fun-sized candy and novelty costumes were out for sale immediately after the Fourth of July was criminal. And now, in early November, Santa Dave had parked his ass at the end of Riverwood Mall’s East Wing, ready for business.

As I turned to the laptop to upload the photos to the image portal, I heard Timmy cry out, "Mommy! Can we do that too? After Orange Julius? It looks so fun! I want that."

I didn’t even bother to look up from the laptop because I knew what that was. Nearly every kid who exited our photo area beelined to the new attraction next door: the North Pole virtual reality experience. It had opened the same week as Santa’s Village, and it included a bonus video of the customer’s experience that patrons could download immediately. Who wouldn’t want to be on Santa’s 3D virtual sleigh, flying over any address they typed into Google Maps?

Santa Dave plopped down on his chair. Ready for the next family, Chloe?

I nodded as our frontline helper elf ushered in a young couple and their baby. This is baby Caroline. Sweet Caroline wore a headband with a giant red bow the size of her head. She howled as her family entered Santa’s cozy living room and none of her parents’ bouncing and cooing helped.

The mom held out the baby in Santa’s direction, which made her wail even more.

Caroline’s mom let out a long breath. We wanted to get holiday photos before she started teething, but I think it’s too late, she said, her eyes watering as she pulled her baby closer to her chest.

I jumped into action. Mom, while you’re holding Caroline, can you please stand next to Santa, by the tree? Dad, I’ll need you to sit on Santa’s armrest.

They assembled per my instructions, and I looked at their positions in my camera. Parents, if you could move in a little closer to Santa, that’d be great.

Caroline took another look at this jolly bearded white dude and burst into tears again. Santa Dave was great with the toddlers and older kids, but babies were not his favorite. He made all of them cry. Every. Single. One.

But that’s where I came in—they didn’t call me the baby whisperer for nothing. From my pocket, I pulled out my trusty pair of black, chunky glasses and perched them on my nose. Caroliiiiiine!

The infant tore her eyes away from Santa and looked at me. Her crying stopped for a brief moment as she stared at my new frames.

Now that I had her attention, it was time to go for my classic baby crowd-pleaser. From my other pocket, I pulled out a small yellow bird plushie.

I whistled one of my many rehearsed birdcalls and perched the bird on my head. Hey baby! Look over here, kid!

Caroline not only stopped crying, she pointed at the bird and grunted.

Now, for the winning move.

I said, Mom, Dad, Caroline! Look at the camera! One. Two. I squeezed the bird and it let out a long squeak. Three!

Caroline squealed with delight and clapped. I took several photos, each one revealing different levels of contentment and relief from all three family members. Lots of options for the parents to choose from for their holiday portrait.

I pulled the bird off my head and displayed the images on the camera’s screen for the parents to review. The dad nodded at the last photo. This one. It’s perfect.

I continued squeaking the toy, and Caroline tried so hard to say ba-ba-ba, which we all agreed was her first word.

Bird.

Caroline’s mom wiped the baby’s drool from her mouth while chatting with Santa. The dad said to me, Caroline loved that bird. Amazing how you were able to stop her crying.

I nodded. They all love the bird. I have a whole arsenal of animals, but she looked like a bird lover.

Can I buy it from you? Or could you let me know where I can get one? We’re desperate, he chuckled.

I shrugged. Petco.

He scratched his chin. Pet…co?

It’s a cat toy. The dog toys are louder if you don’t mind the excessive squeaking.

Caroline’s mom fluttered over to us, and the baby reached out for me. Awww look, she likes you!

I laughed. She just wants these glasses. Isn’t that right, Caroline?

She gurgled and swiped at my face.

The mom dropped a twenty-dollar bill into the tip jar. She’s been crying all day. I’m so relieved she stopped. She turned to her husband as they exited. Did she tell you where she bought the bird?

I smiled while uploading the photos. The pictures of Caroline’s family really turned out well. Photography was the only thing I could do right, and with enough family photos under my belt so far this season, it was becoming natural to me.

After I took a swig of water and a bite of granola bar, I called to the front, I’m ready for the next family!

The elf cashier popped her head in. Um, there aren’t any families in line. We’re taking lunch now while we have downtime.

W-What? The mall is full today. Our lines had dwindled with the passing of each day, but I never thought we’d get to the point of having no customers. This was a first.

She pointed past the exit.

My gaze followed her finger to the 3D North Pole exhibit. The line was wrapped around the corner, and Peter Li strutted around the perimeter, handing out flyers to passersby. New fall and winter themes added! Choose from twenty different immersive rides! Hey, nice coat! Love your hat! Timmy and his binky were near the front of the line, underneath the giant sign that read NEW! ULTIMATE VIRTUAL REALITY SLEIGH RIDE SPECTACULAR!

I narrowed my eyes.

Peter.

Of course.

Peter, the bane of my existence, as far back as I can remember.

Boys’ varsity soccer Peter. Editor-in-chief Peter. Perfect PSAT score Peter. And now ruin-my-job Peter.

He was smirking right at me.

Time to wipe that smug smile off his face.

Two

Peter

"Virtual Reality, taken to new heights! Literally! The downloadable videos are available in seconds, not hours!"

Chloe was staring at me. Actually, glaring at me. I’d mentioned the video download time just to get a reaction from her, like a nose scrunch or a frustrated sigh. I didn’t expect her to stomp over and point her elfin finger all up in my face.

Chloe was cute, but also a little bit scary, like a feral kitten. I used to tease her a lot in middle school but pretty much never interacted with her in high school because we only had one class together. I forgot how easy it was to get a rise out of Chloe.

Our photos are downloadable in seconds too. We just upgraded the software. So stop saying that.

I offered her a wide grin while adjusting my Cubs baseball cap. It was the only thing I owned that was red. It was as holiday as I could get. I didn’t say yours weren’t. I was simply remarking that our upload and download speeds were the best around.

She shook her head. You’re unbelievable, you know that?

I do. Nice glasses by the way. They were too large for her face, but sort of suited her, the way a toddler adorably tries on a pair of parents’ shoes. Wait, do those even have lenses? Are they a prop or something?

Chloe scrunched her nose and snatched the frames off her face, then shoved them in her pocket.

And nice Baby Yoda ears.

Her face turned beet red. She planted both hands on her hips. They’re elf ears, thank you very much.

Chloe was so much fun to pester. Elf ears kind of fold down. She flinched as I leaned forward to examine hers. Yours are green and stick straight out. They look more Mandalorian than North Pole to be honest. Can I call you Yoda? Or…the Child?

She let out the exasperated sigh I’d been waiting for. Success!

Chewing her bottom lip, she looked over at the long line and muttered, Huh.

I looked over my shoulder. Huh what?

Timmy’s made it to the front, she muttered, pressing her lips to prevent a smile from forming. You shouldn’t keep your customers waiting. That’s bad business.

I rolled my eyes and walked over to the kiddo with the pacifier and pointed at the available VR options on the pull-up banner by the entrance. Number one is the lowest intensity, very kid-friendly. Lots of kids like the Turkey Tornado, it spins but not too fast. Overall it’s a two, and the levels go up to ten, but I wouldn’t recommend those higher ones unless you like hills and drops on rollercoasters.

Timmy’s mom shrugged. I don’t know anything about this. Timmy wanted to come so badly so I promised him we could stop here on our way out.

The boy said, Number five, because I’m five. Number five was a sleigh ride in a blizzard sequence. Not one of my favorites, but it was a popular one.

I heard a tinkle of laughter coming from Santa’s Village. It was Chloe, but when I glanced over I couldn’t tell if she was laughing at me or at something on her phone.

Yes, sir. Number five coming right up. I put Timmy in one of the open vinyl chairs and mounted on a headset. Are you sure about this, buddy? I looked over at Chloe again, but she was already back inside, helping another family.

Timmy said, Yeah! I have something like this at home. But Mommy only lets me do cooking and shopping games. I loaded his video and stood by his side just in case he regretted his decision. It was quite a leap from cooking and shopping to hilly sleigh riding.

Whooooaaaa! So cool! He swayed in his seat, ducking and dodging the virtual snowballs.

Timmy’s hands flew up. Wheeeee!

Another happy customer. I chatted with his mom as I took the payment from her, but soon noticed Timmy had gotten quiet. Buddy, you okay?

I’m— Timmy’s voice hitched.

I knew this look. The deepening frown. The yellowish-green hue of the face. All warning signs of—

Timmy leaned forward and sprayed Orange Julius onto the tips of my shoes. My brand-new checkered Vans.

A little sick, Timmy finished.

The janitorial staff shut down the exhibit for twenty minutes while they sanitized the area and gave me a few cleaning cloths for my footwear. Some of the patrons toward the end of the line walked over to Santa’s Village to kill time, taking group photos as they waited for us to reopen. I looked for Chloe, who popped her head out of her photo area and smirked in my direction. She raised her right hand, like Baby Yoda trying to use the force.

Touché, Chloe. Did you know about Timmy and his affinity for Orange Julius? I bet you did.

I smiled back at her as I reopened the exhibit, letting in the next two tween customers: twin girls who wanted to try experience number ten.

Just because Chloe won this round didn’t mean she’d won…whatever this was between us she had ignited. A challenge? A competition? A duel? My job suddenly became so much more interesting now that she was on my radar.

Okay, Chloe Kwon.

You’re officially on my naughty list.

Three

Chloe

Sophia and I washed our hands at the art room sink station. She took only a few seconds because she’d been working with no-mess air-dry clay, whereas I’d decided to use charcoal. Sophia was not only artistic, she also had the unique ability to not spill or smear stuff all over herself.

There was no easy way to do cleanup with charcoal. It was all over my fingertips and palms, under my nails, and judging by how Sophia stared at my face longer than usual, I probably had smudges above my eyebrows and cheeks too. I like painting with acrylics better, she said. Way less messy. Way less…you know—

Way less…soot-covered chimney sweeper look? But I love the starkness of the black and white. I don’t mind charcoal, except for this. The charcoal on my hand mixed with the liquid soap to form a dark gray foam.

Everything you create is like a masterpiece, even your smudges. She pointed her dripping finger at my chest. I hope you have a jacket.

My formerly white tee also had charcoal smears on it, and the two biggest swaths of black were coincidentally located on each boob. It looked like they were crying, like the theater masks displayed in our drama department hallway.

Damn it, I should have worn a smock.

Sophia started to say, Whatever you do, don’t—

But it was too late. I instinctively took my damp hands and tried to brush off the charcoal from my shirt. This not only made the unfortunately located smudges worse, but also darkened the spots from (aptly named) charcoal gray to jet black.

Crap, I muttered, dabbing a paper towel with soap and water.

Sophia grabbed my arm. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s definitely going to make it worse. Please…stop.

I sighed. I don’t have a jacket today, or anything extra in my locker to cover me up. This shirt is all I have. I looked down at my two damp, downturned stark black breast semicircles. I think you’re right about making it worse, though it’s hard to imagine that even being possible.

My friend Elias scooched between us and reached around me to grab a paper towel, bonking my head lightly with his elbow once he retrieved it. Oops, super sorry!

After taking one look at my shirt, he said, Oh no, you can’t leave here looking like that. Hold on. He walked back to his chair and pulled up a crumpled gray hoodie wedged in the back of the seat. Elias was the lead designer of the LGBTQIA organization at the school, and the hooded zip-up showcased the logo he designed and his custom artwork on the back. He held it up by the upper sleeves, shook it out, and handed it to me. Here. Don’t lose it, or I will murder you. He wasn’t exaggerating. Elias would actually murder me if anything happened to it. It was his most prized possession. A perfectly worn, snuggly hoodie, and that art was something he’d worked on last summer at the prestigious Governor’s School program. The sweatshirt was oversized, warm, and smelled like a container of Tide pods. It was perfect.

I gave him a hug. Thank you. My boobs thank you too. I’ll wash your zip-up and bring it back tomorrow.

Delicate cycle, please. Use a dryer sheet. Don’t you dare cause static cling.

I laughed. If you stop by Riverwood I’ll even give you a free photo with Santa for your generosity. I promise.

Elias clasped his hands together. Ooooh, would you all come with me? Can you imagine us taking photos with Santa together?

Sophia cackled. We should make it look like a family portrait, with Santa being our dad. We can dress up!

Come by tonight. I texted them a coupon. Just show this to the elf at the door. You’ll get VIP treatment. I’m not working tonight, but you’ll be in good elfin hands. You can also use it another time when I’m there.

What does VIP treatment at Santa’s Village look like? Elias asked. Like do we get special props and premium chimney backgrounds?

I smiled. You get to skip the line, and Santa gives you a small stocking full of dollar store candy, if you must know. Mmmm.

Elias clapped. I’m in. He turned to Sophia. Did you hear that tonight was senior night at that North Pole virtual reality place? Maybe we could get a quick glimpse of Cheremy Mills. Cheremy was the hottest guy at Hillcrest, and maybe in the entire universe. He was the guy everyone admired from afar, especially Elias and Sophia. Both of them had had crushes on Cheremy since junior high. The big reason I wasn’t in his fan club? His name was pronounced Jeremy but written as Cheremy with a Ch. I couldn’t get over this, ever.

Sophia shot Elias a look. "You know you’re not allowed to mention that business at the mall. Or you-know-who’s name that rhymes with ‘Teeter.’ Look, she’s got steam coming out of her ears now."

I cocked an eyebrow. "C’mon, surely after all these years you know why I can’t stand that guy. Why we can’t stand him."

I said we because when one of us hated someone, we all did.

Elias sighed. Yeah, yeah, we know. A tale as old as time. Your parents hate his parents, and the descendants of the Lis and Kwons keep the animosity going for generations to come.

My mom and dad thought the Lis were competitive, nosy, and braggy…those being their better traits. The Lis’ kids went to the same school we did, and like my family, they had a restaurant in the Riverwood mall food court too. My sister was named valedictorian a few years ago, and Peter’s older brother came in second. It was close, with Hannah beating Sam by only one-tenth of a point at the end. The Lis were the Kwons’ top competition. And sworn enemy.

Elias added, I remember that first time when Peter said you were being overly dramatic in elementary school after he drew a spider on your arm with a Sharpie and you cried. Which in retrospect is kind of funny now, isn’t it?

I narrowed my eyes at Elias.

Okay, okay. Still not funny, he yelped. "You are the queen of grudges. But remember that time he ate string cheese and told you he’d eaten a candle and you thought you needed to give him mouth-to-mouth because you believed him? That was funny."

I raised my eyebrow. "I thought I needed to call 911 or poison control. Also, not funny."

Sophia added, I remember you were bitter when he chose you last for a PE team in middle school. But to be fair, you had a broken arm and we were playing volleyball.

I still had one good arm. And it was my dominant one. I held up my right index finger. Oh! Let’s not forget how we had a class presentation last year and I was already a ball of nerves, not eating breakfast or lunch out of fear of regurgitation, and in one of my Google presentation slides he changed the hyperlink and Rickrolled me in front of the entire history class. Jerk.

They both burst into laughter but then quickly composed themselves. I sighed. Traitors.

There’s more. Now I see him going to Platinum Gym at the far end of the mall all the time, lifting weights, studying himself in the mirror. Could he be any more vain? He is all about looks and swagger. So surface-level. I can’t stand that kind of guy. I hate Peter Li.

And that kind of guy was the type everyone at school liked. Peter was great at all that people-y stuff, and he aced Model UN, and I was a little jealous of his student government pursuits. He was like an Asian Clark Kent. Charming and coy,