The Nutcracker Princess

The Nutcracker Princess: Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The Cookie Thief

It had been over an hour, yet I was still fuming about theelfincident.

I could never have guessed someone who so selflessly gave a strange girl their fried eggs could be so grumpy. I heard my earrings jingle and smiled.

Forget the Scrooge! I wasn't going to let him ruin my Christmas spirit.

You may wonder why, as Claire so eloquently puts it, I'm Christmas-crackers.

When I was eight years old I was told Santa wasn't real. This came as a shattering blow to me, as I'd always faithfully believed the jolly bearded- man delivered my presents on Christmas Eve, and no, I don't mean my granddad in a cotton wool beard and a tatty red hat. So when my eighth Christmas finally came around, I couldn't care less. What was the point? Where was the magic if there weren't any flying reindeer and cute hard-working elves?

My grandfather was distraught; he'd been my guardian ever since my parents were killed in a car accident a few months after I was born, and as a prestigious lawyer he was an extremely busy man. However, when the festive period came around he would always make a special effort to spend time with me when I returned home for the school holidays.

All he had ever wanted was to make sure I had the best Christmas I could.

It was the night before Christmas and instead of being tucked up in bed dreaming about presents, I was sulkily lounging on the sofa playing with my digital pet, purposely ignoring my grandfathers' pleas to leave out a carrot for Rudolph.

Carrot for Rudolph? Yeah right. More like waking up to find grandpa had gouged out a big chunk with a potato peeler, and was claiming he heard Santa's sleigh last night.

Pull the other one!

Fast-forward a few hours and it was just after midnight. I was still awake. And no, not because I was excited about old St. Nick paying me a visit.

As if.

I heard Granddad tip-toe past my door- no doubt coming back from putting my presents under the tree.

It was safe to go.

You see I had only just realised my beloved electronic pet, Rex, was still in the living-room, and it broke my heart to think my cyber-puppy could be going hungry. Creeping into the hallway, I stealthily made my way downstairs and into the darkened living room. Just as I found Rex stuffed down the side of the sofa, I realised I'd been rumbled. My grandfather was standing over by the fireplace stuffing his face with the cookies we'd made earlier that day; I must have imagined hearing him earlier. As usual, he was dressed in a Santa suit, trying to keep up the tiresome charade.

"Sorry grandpa, I just came downstairs to find this," I waved Rex at him, "Maybe you should lay off the cookies?" I giggled, punching him in his padded belly.

"Oww!" He cried out, dropping his biscuit in surprise.

"Oops..." He must have put on weight, his belly didn't feel like the old pillowcase I'd assumed it was. My grandfather turned around, only for me to realise that this wasn't my granddad at all, "Who the heck are you?"

"Take a wild guess." The cookie thief muttered, rubbing his stomach tenderly.

"Someone who dresses up like Santa and breaks into people's homes to steal cookies?"

The bearded intruder stared at me with a look of astonishment.

"Holly Palmer, isn't it?"

"...Yeah?" I replied, noticing his snow-covered beard was surprisingly realistic.

"When exactly were you told I didn't exist?"

I raised an eyebrow; did this burglar really think he was St. Nick? Talk about bonkers.

"A couple of months ago."

He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Patrick Clement told you one lunchtime, did he not?"

I nodded slowly; Patrick had actually announced that Santa was a myth to my entire class. "Little tyke, I knew he was on the naughty list for some reason."

I stared at him dumbstruck, how did this guy know about Patrick?

"Have you been suffering from a lack of festive cheer since then?" He continued.

"Er, I suppose so?" I mumbled, knowing full well this was the case. The old man looked thoughtful; he put his hand into a green velvet sack near the Christmas tree and pulled out a small golden box.

"Merry Christmas."

I gingerly took the box from him and slowly unravelled the burgundy ribbon. Inside was a tiny silver snowflake, so intricate it could have been mistaken for the real thing; however this one was attached to a delicate chain.

"Wow." I breathed, lifting it up with my fingers. "This is really for me?"

He nodded.

"Anytime you feel yourself doubting the magic of Christmas, just remember you have to listen to your heart rather than what everyone else is telling you." Though it was probably the most saccharine thing I had ever heard, I didn't feel like laughing. Not even a bit.

"Well, I have to get back to my deliveries, have a very merry Christmas, Holly- oh and give my regards to your grandfather." He smiled warmly, tossing the velvet sack over his shoulder. Without another word he strolled over to the chimney and disappeared in a puff of glitter.

I had actually met Santa Claus.

Okay, I admit looking back it was probably a hallucination caused by eating an entire bag of marshmallows before bed. Although, the next morning my grandfather couldn't disguise his bewildered expression when I thanked him for the snowflake necklace...

"So is it ready yet, Palmer?"

I was just leaving class when I heard someone whisper in my ear. I looked out the corner of my eye to seethe class creep, Vincent Gilmore, was standing next to me.

"I need one more night, spread the word." I replied, securing my long auburn hair into ponytail.

"Still on for that slow dance?" He grinned, winking roguishly at me.

"We'll see." I gave a noncommittal shrug, mentally planning to avoid him like a trip to the dentist. I was probably the only girl left in year twelve to reject his advances; this only seemed to further fuel his interest in me-plus I seemed to have been born with a bizarre ability to attract sleazebags.

He smirked and turned to walk down the languages corridor, my friends all bounded over as soon as he had left.

"Ooh, Vincent still after you I see?" Kate questioned me, gazing after Sharpes' resident lothario.

"Sadly, yes." I groaned, hearing my friends all chuckle.

"You know, he's quite a good kisser." Claire commented. "I'd say around a seven and a half."

I shook my head and sighed.

"I have absolutely no intention of smooching him under the mistletoe. Anyway, I'll see you guys later, I still have a bunch of stuff to do for tomorrow." I waved and set off down the stone staircase which led to the dorms.

Tomorrow was my annual secret Christmas party, I'd been organising it ever since I'd come across the abandoned room as a thirteen year old. Now, four years later, it was the hottest event in the student calendar; and this year's party was going to be my best yet.