Allie Calvin is the oldest and only daughter of Scott Calvin. She was 15 when her father puts on the suit. Allie Calvin is nothing like her brother. She doesn't believe in Santa, she doesn't believe in magic, and she doesn't believe in elves. Allie...
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"They're not going to let us out."
Bernard's voice was cold and filled to the brim with annoyance. Allie had been banging on the door for over an hour, yelling curses that would have gotten Bernard hit with the pointed shoe. He watched as her hair bounced with every hit of the door, and it began to infuriate Bernard even more.
Despite spending eight years working together, and multiple attempts to spark up a relationship that didn't involve yelling and throwing insults at one another, Bernard's pride and jealousy was always in the way, stopping him. It irked him that almost everything about her was perfect. Her hair was perfect, her smile was perfect, even that stupid elf outfit Bernard had given her, having it made to try and make her look and feel stupid—which it did—seemed perfect on her.
Unable to stop his anger from spilling over, he snapped, "Will you stop? You just had to get yourself thrown in here. You can't stand not being the center of attention, can you?"
Allie whipped around, her gold hair flying into her face. Her fists were clenched at her side, and she had a sneer on her face. "For your information, Bernard, I was defending you."
Bernard stood up, standing toe to toe with the girl. "You should have just kept your mouth shut, because you know who's in charge now? Curtis."
"I...oh, geez." Allie's eyes widened.
"Exactly."
It was silent, the two glaring at each other. If he had to be on house arrest at all, why did they have to throw Allie in here as well? He glared down his nose at her, black curls falling into his eyes. Allie crossed her arms, tilting her chin up as her eyes narrowed. He took a step backwards, sitting back down.
His heart thumped in his chest, and Bernard tried to tell himself that it was thumping from hatred. There was no way that it was anything else.
Allie looked around the room, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. The room was big, decked with a couch, two chairs, a small table, and different pictures hanging on the wall. There were multiple pictures of Coco on the wall, some from when she was a baby, and others from when she was growing up. Or maybe they were recent. She looked the same in almost all of them.
When she looked into the doorway straight across from her, she could see into the kitchen, seeing a small table with two chairs, a stove, and a fridge. It was completely spotless, not a single dish or anything in sight.
Shes shifted her weight onto her left leg, and asked, "Is this your place?"
From his spot sat stiffly in his chair, he shook his head, curls falling flying around a bit. "No. No, this is just a spare house we have."
"Really?"
Bernard scoffed. "No. Of course it's my house."
"You could have just said that." Allie snapped. "There's no reason to be a jerk."
