“You want me to videotape them?” Emily asked, stunned.
“How else do you expect to document what they’re doing for the police?” Mrs. Fields spread out her fingers again, and the manicurist brushed them with polish. The chemical smell filled the air.
Jingle bells sounded as a group of women sauntered into the salon. Elvis continued to croon miserably about how his baby had left him for Christmas. Emily lowered her eyes to her lap. She thought about how Cassie had pulled up a lawn chair for her at the party. How they’d all cheered when she set off the firework.
“Look, I know you don’t want to do this,” Mrs. Fields murmured as if reading Emily’s mind. “But I’ll come clean with you. The baby Jesus they stole is worth a lot of money. I was thinking of selling it and using it for Christmas gifts since your dad’s bonus wasn’t what we expected.” She sniffed. “I just want the holiday to be special this year.”
“I understand,” Emily said quietly. “But what if I can’t get the baby Jesus back?”
“You can,” Mrs. Fields urged. “You have to earn their trust. Win them over. Do whatever it takes.”
She spread out her finished nails on the table. Emily shifted her feet, an uneasy pain growing in her stomach. But like the good girl she’d always been, she nodded and said she’d do as she was told. The problem was, Emily still had no idea how to infiltrate Cassie’s clique. If she didn’t come up with something fast, though, it would be a blue, blue Christmas for everyone.
Chapter 9
Ants in Her Pants
An hour later, her nails freshly painted a festive red, Emily rushed to Santa Land to begin her shift, passing a huge sale at Hermès, a mob of people at the diamond counter at Tiffany & Co., and a magician’s performance outside a toy drive. There was already a long line of kids waiting on the candy cane–striped walkway at Santa Land, many of whom looked tired and cranky. Mrs. Meriwether greeted her at the gingerbread house.
“Have you seen the elves?” she asked, her voice an octave higher than its normal pitch.
“Uh, I just got here,” Emily reminded her.
“They’re missing.” Mrs. Meriwether glanced around frantically. “They were supposed to come in an hour ago, and it’s mayhem around here!”
Then she scuttled off, muttering to herself. Emily pulled on her Santa gear, wondering if the elves were bagging work because of Cassie’s party last night.
In minutes, she was on the Santa throne. A familiar girl with brown pigtails strutted up first and plopped herself on Emily’s lap. Her father, a broad man with a crew cut and wearing a police uniform, appeared beside her. Emily stared at his shiny badge. O’NEAL. This was the girl who asked for every gift in the world.
“Tina liked you so much that she wanted to pay another visit, Santa.” Officer O’Neal gave Emily a wink. His badge gleamed under the hot photography lights.
“I wanted to add some things to my list,” Tina boasted.
She started listing off items on her fingers. Her new requests included the Barbie Townhouse, the Barbie Vacation Jet, and the Barbie Limited Edition Snow Princess. Emily wasn’t sure a girl Tina’s age should even know the term Limited Edition. “Don’t you think that’s enough?” Emily said after Tina had named about twenty items. “Santa has to make space in his bag for toys for everyone else in the world, too.”
Tina stuck out her bottom lip. “Daddy said Santa would bring me everything.”
Emily cast a wary glance at Officer O’Neal, but he just shrugged sheepishly. “She’s been a very good girl this year.”
Kids continued to move through the line. One spilled a strawberry smoothie in Emily’s lap and another burst into tears. Just as a girl presented Emily with a thick letter in an envelope that said To Santa in shaky writing on the front, Emily finally caught sight of Cassie, Lola, Heather, and Sophie trudging down the corridor. Their elf hats were askew. Their bodysuits sagged. Cassie and Sophie hadn’t bothered to put on their pointy shoes, wearing sneakers instead. Even from far away, it looked like they were nursing massive hangovers. Emily wondered how late they’d stayed up partying after she’d been shut out.
The performing magician handed Cassie a balloon flower. “You girls look like you could use a pick-me-up,” he said to the elves, pushing a balloon toward each of them.
“Fuck off,” Cassie deadpanned. Lola knocked the magician’s hat off his head. He slunk back to his stool.
Mrs. Meriwether hurried toward the elves. “Where have you girls been?” Her face was bright red, and her hands made tight fists. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
The elves just stared at her, seemingly too exhausted to retort.