I have a Christmas present for you!
Remember that one time I wrote a book called The Boy Who Steals Houses and it came out in April this year and I basically never talk about it ever? đHA, okay what a joke since I never shut up about it. But I couldn’t contain myself and I absolutely can’t leave these characters alone. So I’ve written a Christmassy short story for The Boy Who Steals Houses! And it’s called…
I am so excited to share this with you! It’s a prequel-story, so set before the events of The Boy Who Steals Houses. If you haven’t read TBWSH, this should still make sense, but it will make 110% more sense if you go read TBWSH first. And which, am not going to lie, you should read TBWSH because I poured half my soul into it and you want to make that horcrux worth it.
It’s set one week before Moxie meets Sam.
I hope you enjoy the short story! (I managed to make it both cute AND sad, as is my brand.)
The super gorgeous cover was designed by Melissa @thereaderandthechef đwho pretty much saved my life with design help. And Sam @shewritesaboutbooks who made sure my actual WORDS made sense! Thank you everyone for your advice and encouragement. đđ
This short story is totally free đ and you can read it here on my blog or download the PDF file below!
The Girl Who Steals Christmas – CG Drews
Itâs the crumpled-up letter to Santa stuffed into the bin and splattered in bloody cherry juice that changes Moxieâs mind.
Sheâs been at war with herself for a few weeks now, trying to decide whether to acknowledge that itâs nearly Christmas. The hotter it gets, the harder it is to ignore the summer nostalgia of childhood Christmases: cherries and mangoes on sale, air-conditioners punching out coolness, the babies playing in the sprinkler, gingerbread men dipped in white chocolate, walking into shopping centres stuffed with tinsel and huge inflatable surfing Santas and hearing Jingle Bells blasting at full volume. It feels like the whole world is deep in holiday cheer â except at the De Lainey house.
Not a single bauble can be seen.
All their Christmas junk is still packed away under the stairs, untouched for years and likely chewed out by mice. Unpacking it would be a huge hassle. Moxie would be the one getting all grimy and sweaty alone. And for what? So she could feel like sheâd been stabbed in the heart again?
Last year Christmas didnât happen because their mother had just died.
It hurt to think about, it would always hurt. Inside her chest a black star had imploded and everything good and bright and hopeful had been sucked into a swirling vortex of nothingness. Either she felt too much or she didnât feel at all. Her mother was gone, leaving a tiny baby in the house, and Moxie kept finding her dad in the laundry with both the washing machine and dryer going to cover the sound of him crying. It wasnât the pretty crying that happens on TV either, where someone stands in the rain with a single tear dripping down their cheek as violins sing sorrowfully. This was ugly, messy, body-wracking sobs. It scared Moxie out of her freaking mind, because if her dad had broken into a thousand pieces, then how was she ever going to be okay again?
The De Laineyâs world had ended last year. Nobody is going to pull out a Christmas tree and pretend things can be sweet and magical when the world is rotten and cruel.
But now Moxie stares at this ruined letter in the bin and all her resolve to ignore the season begins to feel like melted sludge. Dash is only ten, ten, and sheâd known to screw up her letter to Santa instead of tacking it on the fridge, because the De Laineys donât do Christmas or gifts or happiness orâŠfamily anymore.
And suddenly the truth of this really really sucks.
Dear Santa,
Iâm probably too old for this now, but I totally remember Jeremy still writing letters when he was like, thirteen. Besides Mum always said: âif you donât tell Santa what you want for Christmas, howâs he going to know? Heâll give you socks.â I KNOW Dad is Santa and I KNOW Mum does did all the Christmas shopping, but itâs fun to write the letter. And I never want socks.
Iâll throw this out later anyway.
Iâm not being crazy this year with my wish list. Esther is asking for a new video camera so we can make Thirteen Elven Kingdoms Of War movies over the summer holidays. Sheâll definitely get it because she always gets expensive stuff. She says itâs weird I only get one big present (and crappy stuff from my brothers), but I have a zillion siblings. She doesnât get that means thereâs less to go around.
Anyway. All Iâm asking for is:
– new shoes (those pink ones in Kmart. theyâre glittery and I checked the price and itâs not that much!!)
– Elven cosplay ears (for acting in Estherâs movie)
– massive bag of lollies that I donât have to share with ANYONE
– someone in this family to remember itâs Christmas (Moxie will yell at me if I ask)
– Mum
This list is so stupid.
Yours truly,
Dash De Lainey
An angry knot of guilt blossoms in Moxieâs stomach. She wouldnât have yelled.
Probably.
Alright, fine, maybe she yells at Dash too much, but things have been awful since school let out and sheâs stuck in this house with all her siblings (all of her brothers being insufferable) and her best friend Kirby just left to spend the whole summer up in Darwin with her dad. Thank you, universe! For making everything a thousand times worse!
Moxie wipes cherry juice off the letter and stuffs it into her back pocket. The writing is all smeary, but sheâll give it to Dad later. Hopefully those shoes are still there. She doesnât know where youâd get elvish cosplay ears â what the hell â but she can probably make Dash an Elvish sort of cloak with a cowl and tassels and embroidered elfy words on the hem if she googles it. Wanting lollies all to yourself is unrealistic in this house. But the part that makes Moxie forget how to breathe is, of courseâ
Mum.
Moxie wants to scream, just up and scream and scream, until her voice breaks. Itâs been a year and sheâs supposed to be healing now.
She doesnât know if itâs part of healing to wish you could punch holes through the entire world.
What she does know is this: theyâre having Christmas.
They can fake the magic, the smiles, the silliness, for Dash and the babies. Itâll be wrong and painful without Mum, but Moxie can picture her mother scooping her chaos of brown curls into a bun, hair tie clenched between teeth even as she barks out orders for festivities to begin. Sheâd be really pissed off if she knew their lives had stumbled aimlessly to a stop without her.
But Moxie chews her bottom lip and glances out the window at their driveway, where the old rust-bucket van will eventually pull up, and wonders about Dad.
It leaves her heart in charcoal ruins to think this might make him cry again.
Still. She has to make a decision and sheâs nothing but a cyclonic force when she puts her mind to something. It isnât time for hesitation; itâs time for war.
The letter to Santa burns in her pocket like guilt and a promise as she storms out of the kitchen to bully Christmas to life.
The De Lainey house is a sprawling thing of butter-yellow walls and open-plan living, wood floors and big windows. The dining room falls into the kitchen, which falls into the play area. Her sewing corner is tucked behind battered shelves crammed with material and boxes of lace and bobbins. The âplay areaâ is actually âevery single place in the entire houseâ so there are Duplo blocks and little cars and trikes and baby dolls absolutely everywhere. Her three older brothers are supposed to keep the house together: Grady cleans, Jack does yard work, and Jeremy is on laundry. That just means all three of them do those things at the last possible minute.
Plastic blocks are scattered from the bottom of the staircase over to the front door and Moxie has to do a delicate hopscotch routine to avoid stepping on a small shiny piece of hell. The entire place needs cleaning. Also, everyone needs a good shake out of their funk.
She canât tackle this all alone.
Only four of her siblings are currently countable: Dash is sprawled out on the sofa with a fan two centimetres from her face as she watches an Elven Warrior Whatsit movie. The babies tip more toys out of boxes and argue companionably in a language that is definitely not English. Jack is setting up a tent. Indoors.
Heâs the biggest disaster of the hour, so Moxie zeroes in on him.
âWhy arenât you doing that outside?â she says.
Jack is squinting at a sheet of instructions. He doesnât look up. âItâs too hot. Iâm just making sure all the pieces are here before the camping trip.â
âIs that the new tent you just bought?â
He grunts.
âIsnât it kind of small?
âItâs fine.â
Moxie surveys the actually super tiny tent that looks like a delicate sneeze would end its days.
âYou donât know how to set it up and youâre practising, arenât you?â she says.
Jack rotates the instructions and ignores her.
Even small, itâs still a tent and its taking up too much space in the already overcrowded living area. It is officially impossible to exit the sofa, which is probably why Dash is onto her second rewatch of that Elven movie today. It is the school holidays, but Moxie is rapidly strangling in the realisation that Dash is suffering from chronic-middle-child-overlooked-syndrome. The babies are minded and coddled, and the four older teens take care of themselves, but what about Dash? She does her homework and zones into her fandoms and writes quiet, morose letters to Santa.
Moxie crosses her arms and glares at Jack. âCan you put your tent disaster on hold? I need you to get the Christmas box out from under the stairs.â
Jack rotates the instructions again as if that will help the fact his tent poles are swaying. Something probably should be re-tied or hammered down or zipped up, but thatâs his problem. Just before New Yearâs Day, her brothers are supposedly going camping with friends while their dad takes Moxie, Dash and the babies for the yearly visit to their grandparents who have not yet â not ever â remembered one of their names correctly. Yes, there are seven De Lainey kids. But their grandparents just make up names! Last time, Moxie was Maureen and they referred to Dash as a boy.
âIâm busy so get it yourself,â Jack says. âAlso, who the hell cares about Christmas?â
âMaybe we should,â Moxie snaps. âFor the babies.â
Jack finally crumples the instructions and shoots her a disagreeable look. His hair is usually crammed into a spiky ponytail but itâs hanging loose and damply sweaty about his ears from the tenting effort. He matches her, scowl for scowl. Theyâve always been too similar, matchboxes flung into tinder and splinters jutting from chopped wood.
âYou want to celebrate,â he says in a low snarl, âthe anniversary of her being gone?â
He still canât say Mum, and Moxie knows she should take that into consideration. But sheâs hot and her throat has already grown thick with thorns over this, so itâs easier to get angry back at him.
âMum wouldnât want us to be miserable for the rest of our lives,â she says. âMum loved Christmas. Mumââ
âGo be a little shit somewhere else.â He throws the instructions, climbs into the tent, and zips it up.
âReal mature, Jack.â Moxie considers kicking it, but sheâs sure the whole thing will fall.
Dash peers slowly over the back of the sofa, watching. She says nothing. Her eyes are wide and hopeful.
Three-year-old Toby runs past, stark naked except for yellow goggles. Heâs laughing hysterically.
âToby!â Moxie says. âPut your undies on. Whereâs Jeremy?â
Dash points upstairs. âHeâs going through a break up.â
âOh my god.â Moxie rolls her eyes. âAgain?â
Muttering to herself, she stomps upstairs to pound on the twinsâ bedroom door.
âEnter the pit of despair if you wish,â says the most dejectedly pitiful voice in the entire world.
Moxie has to take a deep calming breath and remind herself to be thoughtful and not sarcastic before going in.
It would be easier to care about Jeremyâs breakups if (a) they didnât happen bi-weekly, (b) they werenât always over the same person who was obviously an utter loser, and (c) he didnât act so melodramatically, wearing this horrible lime green dressing gown and listening to depressing music for hours, when theyâd be back together next week. Moxie hates his breakup playlist! No one needs to listen to this much Michael BublĂ©! Eating pretzels in bed all day isnât going to help! Why canât his moodiness inspire him to clean something? The twinsâ bedroom is even worse than downstairs, because something is growing on the dozens of crummy plates stacked on a desk, there are boxers in places boxers could never get naturally, and it smells so very overpoweringly of boy in here. None of that cypress and cinnamon scented nonsense books lead you to believe (she read a lot of romances this year while hiding in the library at school to avoid people saying âsorry about your mumâ). Lies. Boys smell like socks and sweat and deodorant called MASCULINE MAN or something equally obnoxious.
âLook, Jeremy.â Moxie tries to find someplace to stand. âI need help. Itâll distract you from crying into a teacup for ten minutes.â
Jeremy lies on the lower bunk with one arm draped languidly over the edge. His phone is on his chest crooning a love song and he stares blankly up at the bunk slats.
âI can no longer cry,â he says listlessly.
âGreat,â Moxie says. âYou can get a life and get up. Youâll literally be back with him in what? A week? Arenât you all going on this New Yearâs camping trip?â
âGuess not. I can never look at him or face life again.â Jeremy rolls to face the wall.
Moxie tries to think of gentle things, understanding things. âThen close your eyes. Now get up. I need help with the Christmas box. Also Tobyâs not wearing any clothes and I think Dash is depressed and Jack is sulking in his tent, which is not big enough for the three of you, so I hope you and Grady and him all enjoy cuddling.â
Jeremy sits up. âI told him to buy a big tent.â He fights out of the twisted bedsheets and falls on his face on the floor.
It takes him a bit to sort his limbs out and then he limps from the room in a torrent of pretzel crumbs while retying the sash of his dressing gown.
Moxie follows. âPretty sure Jack genuinely needs glasses. Also I need the Christmas box. Did you hear me?â
âThis tent-crisis is a bit more pressing, Moxie. Maybe I should go on this trip and likeâŠwin Yeats back.â He snaps his fingers in inspiration, eyes wide as his brain clearly begins to overheat, âMaybe this trip is fate and weâll reunite under a moonlit waterfall. Wait, did you say Christmas box? Did you ask Dad? Itâll make him sad. I know skipping it sucks, but the babies wonât know the difference and Dash understands.â
âI canât believe Iâm the one fighting for Christmas,â she growls. âMe. The least cheerful person in the universe. I didnât ask you anyway. I told you. And seriously, Mum wouldnât want us to be stuck like this.â
Moxie hangs off the bannister as Jeremy gallops downstairs. He pauses on the last step and turns back, his eyes soft. âItâll hurt too much, Mox. Just leave it.â
But isnât everything going to hurt forever without their mother?
Their mum is tangled into every Christmas memory: making mince pies, fighting through knotted balls of lights, wrapping presents, making snowflake cards and getting glitter in their eyelashes. Moxie isnât here demanding they replicate those memories or replace them. She just wants their story to have a chapter two.
Itâll hurt like hell, but Moxie wants to hurt, just to remember sheâs still alive.
She battles the cupboard under the stairs herself.
If Christmas wonât come quietly and free, then looks like sheâll have to steal it.
She drags miscellaneous crap out from the gloomy cavity until she finds the taped-up Christmas boxes. She falls on her butt trying to wrestle them out and when she finally heaves one box of decorations into the lounge room, Dash has cleared a corner. She stands anxiously on her tiptoes as she watches.
Jack has exited his sulk tent and now stands with arms folded while Jeremy walks around it in distress with his horrendous lime dressing gown flapping anxiously.
âIt literally says two–person-tent on the box, Jack.â
âThen they put it on the wrong shelf because this is exactly where the three-person-tents should have been.â
âOr maybe you need glasses,â Moxie calls. âOr to own your mistakes.â
âI got it right,â Jack insists.
âYou havenât gotten any of it right!â Jeremy points to the sagging poles. âThat part is backwards. Look, the babyâs drooled on this corner and it leaked.â
Toby suddenly hurtles over, still outfitted in goggles but now accessorised with two stickers in creative places, and jumps onto the tent.
It falls with a small sighing poof.
Jack looks like heâs struggling very hard not to yell (or cry) while Jeremy is struggling very hard not to laugh (or gloat).
âI thought you were supposed to be the rugged outdoorsy one of us two,â Jeremy says.
âI thought you werenât coming because your boyfriend dumped your pathetic ass,â Jack shoots back.
Jeremy had apparently forgotten, and he melts back into the dejected floppy consistency of an abused pudding. He flops face first over the back of the sofa and moans. âIâm undesirable.â
Moxie drags the massive Christmas tree box into the room. It scrapes across the floorboards. âAgreed,â she mutters.
âIâm unloveable,â he says, voice pitching pitifully higher.
âRight now you are,â Moxie says.
âWhenever I take a breath,â Jeremy says, âI think of all the memories we made.â
âWant me to punch you?â Jack says. âMake some new memories?â
Moxie pulls out two branches and falls into the box. Itâs one of those old plastic Christmas trees that theyâve used since Grady was a baby and every time itâs set up, it sheds five kilos of plastic pine needles.
Jeremy covers his face. âYou two donât understand because youâve never been in love.â
âNeither have you,â Jack says. âYouâve been in stupid. Youâre still there now. Yeats is an ass. Now help me with this tent.â
âOr help me with this tree!â Moxie shouts.
Dash slips over and digs through the box of baubles. She finds the angel that goes on top just as Toby and the baby realise something exciting is happening and stampede towards them. Great, theyâre officially doomed. In two seconds flat, the baby has the plug for the lights in its mouth while Toby has found a Santa figurine and asked, âDis Spiderman?â
âThis is so depressing,â Moxie says. âItâs Santa.â
âTata!â says the baby.
âIt not a tato,â Toby corrects the baby gently. âMoxie said we say potato.â
Moxie groans.
Dash finds a string of paper snowflakes and her eyes brighten. âCan we wrap these on the stairs? Oh can we make a gingerbread house? Can you help me make Christmas cards?â
âCan you explain,â Moxie says with a grunt at the tree, âthe difference between Santa and a potato to the babies? Because thatâs where we have to start.â
The tree, however, refuses to go together and the more baubles the baby and Toby unpack, the more overwhelmed Moxie feels. Synthetic pine needles litter the floor and it doesnât feel like Christmas.
It feels like a mess.
With Mum in control, the house would be decorated in a single morning. Theyâd have carols going, Jack and Jeremy would hang lights outside, while Moxie and Dash taste-tested gingerbread from the mixing bowl. Those memories feel impossibly long ago. Moxie had been thirteen? She feels a hundred years old right now and ready to snap at the kids, or maybe cry. Jeremy had been right: this hurts too much.
The front door creaks and Moxie whips around, wanting it to be Dad but also scared what heâll think of this. But itâs the oldest De Lainey sibling with car keys jangling in one hand as he takes the stairs two at a time. If Jack has gotten angrier since Mum died, and Jeremy more dramatic, then Grady has simply gotten less. Heâs nineteen now and if heâs in the house at all, heâs reading, oblivious to the family chaos, and Moxie knows he deferred uni indefinitely. Now heâs always out with his girlfriend, which is absurd, because who actually needs to socialise that much? An exhausting concept.
Moxie looks at him helplessly and he gives her a quick wave. âJust grabbing something. I have to meet Isla.â Then heâs gone.
She lets the plastic tree pieces droop in defeat.
Meanwhile Jack has half the tent back up and is giving Jeremy relationship advice, which canât go wrong since heâs never successfully flirted with someone in his life.
ââŠand then if it doesnât work, I kill him for you,â Jack says earnestly.
âYouâd go to jail for me? Bro.â
âNah, weâre identical. If it got to that, Iâd say it was you. But the point is, you need someone who isnât seventy-four percent trash.â
âHe has a super nice car.â
âThatâs the twenty-six percent we like.â
Grady jogs back downstairs with his phone charger, but slows when he sees the tent. âUm, Iâm coming too, remember? Iâm literally driving us. You were supposed to get a three-person-tent.â
Jeremy is still lying on the sofa, so his arm comes up like a periscope and swivels accusingly to point in his twinâs direction. âHis fault.â
âIt was a three-person!â Jack says. âOn the boxââ
âWell, Iâm not sleeping in your arms,â Grady says. âYoungest sleeps outside with the mozzies.â
Jeremy claps. âIâm older, hurrah.â
âIâm doing all the work setting it up!â Jack says. âAnyway, Jeremyâs not going because Yeats broke up with him.â
Grady checks the time on his phone. âHeâs an idiot.â
Jeremy peers over the sofa looking doleful. âI know he is, butâŠâ
âNo,â Grady says, âI mean you. Get a grip, Jeremy. And put some pants on. And put pants on Toby. I have to go.â
Heâs off towards the door while Jeremy switches from sorrowful to offended. âIâm being emotionally neglected.â
Gradyâs got his hand on the doorknob, but at the last second he glances towards Moxie and their eyes meet. Itâs only a second of contact. She doesnât expect help by now. She sits surrounded by tinsel and a dismantled tree and baby-slobbered-over lights and knows this mess is her reward for trying.
But Grady gently closes the door and slips his phone into his pocket.
He picks his way over and pulls the baby off the lights (it makes a wetly squelching sound like disengaging a squid from its tank) and crouches next to Moxie.
âHey,â he says gently.
Moxie realises her face must be doing something traitorously wobbly. She brushes a hand over her eyes and scowls. âDid you know the baby doesnât understand who Santa is?â
âDid you know,â Dash says, âthat I donât even know what the babyâs name is?â
Toby pets the babyâs head with the same enthusiasm one would use to beat a rug. âI wuv our baby. It name is Baby and he will grow up to be soup.â
âBa!â the baby says in a satisfied way.
Grady just stares. âI canât. No one in this family makes any sense at all. No one.â He accepts the proffered pieces of Christmas tree and begins assembling them. âDash can you put undies on Toby? Moxie, why didnât you get the twins to help out?â
Moxie gives him a flat look.
âRight.â Grady stands, the metal pole of the fake-tree-trunk now slotted together like a weapon. He marches to the sofa where Jeremy languishes and Jack looks at tent pegs like theyâre going to bite him. âYou two are absolute assholes. You can see your little sister needs help. Jeremy, get up.â He hurls his car keys at Jeremyâs stomach. âBuy some stuff for mince pies and gingerbread.â
âUm, Iâm having a crisis?â Jeremy says.
âYeah, and itâs about to increase when I spit in your ear. Go.â Grady points the tree-weapon at Jack. âYouâre going to put lights in the windows and clean up the kitchen. Uh, donât whinge at me or I will soundly beat your ass.â He swivels back to Jeremy who is slinking towards the front door, still in his dressing gown. âNO. PUT PANTS ON FIRST! If I have to tell one more De Lainey to be properly clothedââ
Jeremy flees to the laundry.
Toby struts over, finally in underwear, puffing out his stomach and petting it. âI want to eat Santa.â
âWhat?â Grady said.
âSanta is a potato!â Toby shrieks.
âYou probably shouldâve left while you had the chance,â Moxie says.
But sheâs secretly relieved that Gradyâs taken over. Usually she will fight indignantly if anyone shuffles her aside, but today she doesnât feel like owning the world. She will direct while Grady assembles the Christmas tree and Toby hangs all the baubles on the two lowest branches. Grady lifts Dash to put the angel on top and then gives her his phone so she can play Christmas music. Dash holds hands with the baby and Toby and they dance in a dizzy wild circle, giggling to All I Want For Christmas on a floor covered in glitter.
The wreath goes up on the front door. Jack stacks the dishwasher with moody ferocity. Grady untangles reams of Christmas lights that sparkle green and gold. Dash puts on a Santa hat and wraps herself in tinsel and looks so happy no one minds that sheâs shedding all over the house.
The kids get more chaotic. They just turn the music up.
When Jeremy gets back with baking supplies, he seems to have forgotten his sulk and, with stolid relish, he puts on the Mother Claus apron Mum used to wear. He whisks eggs and folds pastry.
And maybe everything they do hurts a little.
And maybe they do it all messily and lopsided and backwards.
And maybe their life is a glitter snow globe with duct tape over the cracks.
But it feels like some sort of Christmas.
Itâs late by the time theyâve finished decorating and the house has been punched in the face with glitter and flour and wrapping paper and tinsel and We Wish You A Merry Christmas banners hung over the windows. They eat way too many mince pies for dinner and Dash wants a Christmas movie, which is incredible since she only ever watches those Elven King War Thingies. Jack sprawls on the sofa, and Dash and Toby sit on his chest and shriek about the Grinch.
Grady didnât leave at all. He ends up picking through this tiny box of fluffy snowmen at the kitchen table while Jeremy sits across from him with the old Christmas cookbook and pours over Mumâs dog-eared recipes.
Moxie pokes about the mess looking for the baby and finds it has fallen asleep under the Christmas tree with a plastic candy cane clutched in a chubby hand. The entire scene is so suffocatingly adorable and she canât bear to move the little sticky creature with pie-stained cheeks. But they should probably not let it nest this close to tangled light cords.
Sheâs prying the candy cane from from the babyâs paws, when the front door yawns open and their father walks in.
Moxie shoots to her feet and her entire heart leaps into her mouth. Their dad is a mountain of a man, broad shoulders and big hands, his smile a warm kind of softened caramel. He never raises his voice, never gets more than mildly annoyed at them, no matter how raucous the antics. But his eyes are always sad. If all of this makes him sadder, it will be her fault.
Theyâve switched off most of the lights while the others watch the movie, so Moxie canât see her fatherâs face as he slowly takes off his work boots and looks around. Heâs been building and the lateness of his arrival says itâs been a rocky day. His quietness says heâs exhausted.
He leans over the back of the sofa to kiss Toby and Dashâs heads and mush Jackâs hair into his face, which earns him a disagreeable grunt. But theyâre all so absorbed in the Grinch that they barely look up.
âHeyyy, Dad,â Jeremy says.
âHi,â Grady says. âWe had a mess for dinner, but thereâs casserole in the fridge from last night.â
âThatâs great, boys, thank you.â Dad sets his lunchbox in the kitchen and looks quietly at the plate of half-eaten mince pies.
His eyes go to the tree (not how Mum decorated it), then to the lights (not how Mum hung them) and then to Moxie (nothing like Mum). No oneâs said it out loud, but since sheâs the oldest girl, she feels like they expect her to hold the thousands of threads that pull a family together. But sheâs fifteen and angry and messy and loneliness is always bunched up tight in her two fists.
She slouches by the Christmas tree, arms folded.
Dad comes over and groans a little as he sits in front of the tree with the lights glowing softly on his face. He pulls the baby into his arms and settles its fussing little body against his shoulder. Then he tilts his head to Moxie.
âCâmere, sweetie.â
She flops down beside him and puts her cheek on his shoulder even though he smells of sawdust and sunscreen and sweat.
âSo Dash wrote a letter to Santa,â she says, âand I found it in the bin. All this made her really happy.â
âI think it made all of you really happy.â
âExcept you.â Moxie rests her chin on her fist as she stares at their horrifically decorated tree.
âWhat? No. You all being happy makes me incredibly happy.â He kisses the top of her head. âYour mum would love this too. Sheâd also yell at me for leaving you kids to do this alone. Iâm proud of you, alright? I know it hurts.â He untangles one arm from the sleeping baby and gently covers Moxieâs eyes. âRemember when you were the tiniest little thing and sheâd have all you kids close your eyes and make a wish under the tree?â
Moxie bats his hand away, but sheâs smiling.
âIâll put the baby to bed.â Her dad struggles to his feet and takes the baby upstairs.
Moxie ends up balling up Santa hats to use as pillows and stretching out under the glossy Christmas tree lights. She crooks her hands behind her head and thinks of wishes that are lovely or impossible, clever or selfish.
If wishes came true, sheâd ask for something selfish tonight.
I want a friend, Moxie tells the Christmas lights. I want a friend to appear like magic and stay with me all summer and love me when Iâm angry or sad or soft. I want a friend who will steal absolutely all of my heart.
Monique
Thank you so much for writing this!!! Itâs so adorable and sweet and heartbreaking. You made me cry. Again. How on earth do you always manage to make me have all the feels? This is a Christmas story for goodness sake! With mince pies!
C.G. @ Paper Fury
I’m honestly just so happy (and relieved) everyone likes the story!! đ
Bee
CAAAAIIIT. This is absolutely the most wonderful thing in the world. Best Christmas present ever. I miss these people!
C.G. @ Paper Fury
omg my day is made!! Thank you, Bee!đ
Hailey
I AM SCREAMING. I HAVE NO WORDS. I love this so so so much. It made me laugh, and at the end it literally made me cry. Itâs the most perfect prequel, the most perfect Christmas story, the most perfect EVERYTHING. And now I am going to set this afternoon aside to reread TBWSH and I canât wait. đ
C.G. @ Paper Fury
*happy flails for days* đđđ
Chris
Aw, so sweet. I think Moxie got her wish at the end. đ
Also Jack can go choke. He reminds me a lot of my brother, grrr. Next year, you can write a short story where Sam is part of the madness and helps Moxie with everything.
C.G. @ Paper Fury
Pity she got her wish and then attacked him with glitter đđ ah, Moxie, we LOVE her so.
Bryan Dawe
Thank you and Merry Christmas.
A lovely present with everything you promised.
C.G. @ Paper Fury
Thanks for reading!
Becky
This was both heartbreaking and hilarious at the same time. I love it. You’re a really amazing writer.
C.G. @ Paper Fury
omg đ„șđ I’m really honoured
Karen
Loved every word!! Such a lovely prequel to TBWSH!!
C.G. @ Paper Fury
I’m ridiculously happy to hear that đ
Cas @ Daydreaming Ink
Ahh Cait I absolutely love this and aw Moxieâs personality really shines through!! <3
C.G. @ Paper Fury
Eeeep, Cas, this is SO nice of you to say!
Olive
OMG CAIT I LOVE THIS.
And wait, the baby doesn’t have a name??? I haven’t read tbwsh yet and am confusion.
C.G. @ Paper Fury
There are a lot of references to TBWSH so you’ll have to read it to find out đđ
Olive
Gee, thaaaanks đ
Jane Maree
EEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! I LOVE THIS SO SO MUCH, THIS IS THE MOST SWEET, HILARIOUS, HEART-WRENCHING, BEAUTIFUL THING!!!
C.G. @ Paper Fury
I’m SO GLAD YOU LOVED IT. My heart is so happy!!
Olivia Smit
THIS IS ABSOLUTELY THE MOST PERFECT THING EVER. This family is the ultimate cute and my favourite and Jeremy’s moody self is so wonderful and I loved the Michael Buble mention lol!! And Jack’s tent! Omg. I can’t. I love.
C.G. @ Paper Fury
Jeremy did get the roughest time here…poor boy just wants some SYMPATHY đđ Omg I love them and I loved writing this, and I’m so so glad everyone’s enjoyed reading it!
Jem Jones
I have all the oldest-sister love for Grady (and a significant amount of big-sister love for Moxie) and this whole story is sO BEAUTIFUL CAIT HOW DO YOU EMOTION LIKE THIS
C.G. @ Paper Fury
AM SUPER HAPPY đđ
Melissa @thereaderandthechef
*cries with love* IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL I CANNOT!!! Please write a 500+page companion novel, please! (I offer my services to do your cover again â„ haha thank you for letting me design this one!!!)
Frank
This story broke me and fixed me with Christmas cheer several times, I nearly cried while reading it, thank you đ
C.G. @ Paper Fury
đ„șđomg that makes my day
J.A.Penrose
Eeeek! This is the most adorable thing ever! Agh, I need to reread TBWSH now to read it with new context. <3 Happy Christmas to you!
C.G. @ Paper Fury
Aww, I’m so so happy you enjoyed it đ I definitely put lots of references in for the full TBWSH story!
Brooklynne
CAIT! CAIT! CAIT!!!! HOW DARE YOU!!!!!! Seriously never talking to you again! ;-p
….
…..
…..
…..
…..
……
….. Thanks for another excellent peek into the DeLainey’s house, especially one pre Sam.
C.G. @ Paper Fury
Now we know the De Laineys are a consistent mess đ (I’m so glad you liked this!!)
Hanne T
CAIT YOU’RE THREE FOR THREE WITH WORKS THAT MAKE ME CRY. Now I want to reread TBWSH again but my goodreads goal will kill me in my sleep if I do -_- This is literally the best prequel I’ve ever read????? I love this more than anything ever aaaaaaaaaa
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, Cait!
C.G. @ Paper Fury
I’m just so so happy you liked it đ like my little heart is SO FULL.
Lanie
This was so sweet! I would read a whole book dedicated to De Lainey chaos because I love it so much. Toby reminds me of my baby brother.
C.G. @ Paper Fury
I’m so so glad you liked it đ (the littlest De Laineys may be based off my nephews/nieces đ)
Meeghan
I meant to write this earlier, but I couldn’t see through my tears well enough to type. This is perfect and amazing and I love it so much. You are an absolute treasure to write this and I just can’t even explain my thoughts because I’m basically incoherent because I have reread this and am now a blubbering, crying mess again.
TBWSH was the book I didn’t even know I needed this year, so thank you for shattering my heart into a billion pieces, but also for putting it back together again.
C.G. @ Paper Fury
Okay now *I* am going to be incoherently happy forever đđđ
ilsa
moxie’s wish at the end!!!!
seriously this was SUCH a great Christmas story i loved it sm!!! I needed more of the delaineys and this was AMAZING. THANK YOU CAIT!!!!! i love this family sm ;)))
C.G. @ Paper Fury
I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT *teary happiness* I really love this disaster family and miss them so much đđ
Gissel
1. Sad.
2. I still love the sibling accuracy.
3. JEREMY YOU ARE PURE GOLD CHILD GET UP AND BE AWESOME
4. My heart exploded when Grady stayed back to help them and gave the twins hell for being totally useless.
5. We still don’t get the baby’s name???? K, Cait, okay.
6. That ending…little did poor Moxie know what she was asking for all I thought about was Stitch coming into Lilo’s life with an evil laugh when she asked for an angel.
C.G. @ Paper Fury
my heart is actaully exploding with happiness that you liked it đđđ (THE BABY HAS NO NAME.)
Gissel
I knew the baby had no name coming in and still I hoped. But I laughed very hard when it was admitted that the poor baby’s own sibling had no clue
Heather @ The Frozen Library
OMG I LOVED THIS! Thank you for blessing us with this gift! XD
I almost cried at the end having read TBWSH and knowing what happens next! đ
I LOVED reading more about the De Lainey’s and this was just so beautiful! All of your stuff is just so FUN to read and still gives me so many feels at the same time! :,D
Also it’s such a mind trip for me living in the north when you refer to kids playing in sprinklers and eating gingerbread in the same sentence. XD Do you really still decorate with snow related stuff though? Does it feel weird? It just seems so weird. XD
Oh and I have a random timeline question: Was Christmas already over at the start of TBWSH? I thought the party at the end with all their school friends was for Christmas but I don’t remember. XD I know everyone comes back from their trips closer to the beginning and you said it was before New Years, so. All the events in your book felt like they lasted so much longer than they did (not in a bad way though!) so IDK. XD
C.G. @ Paper Fury
I didn’t technically put a lot of dates in TBWSH because (originally) I wanted it to not be too Australian-centric, to make it relatable to more places. I mean, if I’d written it now I would’ve put dates in and made it more firmly Australian! Anyway, yeah the whole book of TBWSH takes place in January. Those are our summer school holidays, school goes back in February.
Heather @ The Frozen Library
Oh okay that makes sense. XD
Beck @Smellfoy Can Read
Are those internal tears warming my cold dead heart? THIS IS *FANTASTIC* you have no idea how much I missed your writing and these characters ThAnK yOu
I love it đđđđđ
Gaia Athena
I really enjoyed reading this story!! Thank you so much đ. I loved reading about the DeLaineys again.
Anne @ Books Baking and Blogging
Thank you for this wonderful story, Cait! It was so nice to be back with the De Laineys <3
Mica Rossi
Ahh, Cait, this is lovely.
Maggie
This was so precious and sweet and I am crying into my tea now. Thank you for sharing this!! <3
Breannyn
This is… the most beautiful piece of writing (aside form TBWSH) I’ve read this year. Words can’t describe how much I love the ending. It’s simple and sweet and simply amazing so thank you for this gift. The perfect way to end 2019 and start 2020. The only problem I have is that I’m now craving mince pies:)
Hannah White
Oh my gosh this was so lovely and adorable and I love it so much. Thank you for putting your time and amazing writing skills into this to share with us!!
khadeejah
I am in love. This is absolutely fabulous. I donât even have words to describe how amazing this is.
Annie Rupertus
Oh my gosh Cait this is so precious!!! Thank you for writing this <3
Niharika
Thankyouuuuu Cait I love you â€â€â€ this is the best thing to wake up to (its morning in India đ ) Merry Christmas to you ans More power to you â€