A Naughty Little Christmas by Lili Valente

Author:Lili Valente [Valente, Lili]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Self Taught Ninja Inc
Published: 2018-10-15T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Macy

Last night was so magical, so perfect, that I almost don’t mind waking up freezing cold, with my hip numb from sleeping on the floor, and a giant rat sitting on the plate I used for dinner last night, eating the Fritos I left behind with a judgmental look on his face.

I almost don’t mind.

And I almost don’t scream.

But then Tom Hanks starts to grind his teeth, making a creepy as hell squeaking, scraping sound, and I end up shouting right into poor sleeping Dean’s ear.

“Wha’ happened? Wha’s up?” He bolts upright, lifting his fists in front of his face. “Where’s the monkey?” He blinks, cringing as the cold air hits his bare skin. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

I come up onto my knees, patting his back. “Sorry. Yes, it’s freezing. Having some strange dreams, there?”

“Totally weird,” he confirms, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “The evil flying monkeys took you to the witch’s castle to hold you prisoner. But then one of them switched sides and was trying to help me get through the haunted forest so I could find you. But then all of a sudden, the witch popped out from behind a tree and screamed in my ear, and I woke up.”

“Sorry again.” I wince, pointing over his shoulder. “I was trying not to scream, but then Tom Hanks started doing something weird with his teeth.” As if the rat understands what I’m saying, Tom takes up the jaw-sliding, teeth-grinding business all over again.

I shudder. “There! That. What does that mean? Is he trying to call me out? Does he want to rumble behind the ranger station after school or something?”

Dean’s laugh transforms to a sharply inhaled breath as he stands, his blanket falling to the floor at his feet. “Damn. It has to be colder in here than it is outside.” Shoulders hunched against the chill, he crosses to the fireplace wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs and reaches down to scoop the rat into his hands. “And no, Tom wasn’t trying to call you out. Rats grind their teeth when they’re happy. Or upset. Or scared.”

“Oh.” I draw my knees into my chest. “Well, he was eating stale Fritos. So, I guess he was happy at first?”

“And then you screamed like a zombie was gnawing your face off, and he probably got freaked out.” Dean deposits the rat into the glass cage next to Meg Ryan, who looks a little judgmental, too. Maybe she isn’t down with her man eating stale Fritos for breakfast. Or maybe she wishes Tom had brought some back to the cage for a morning snack.

Or maybe she’s just cranky because it’s really, really cold in here.

I slip my sweater on over my bra and leggings and scoot closer to the fire. “We shouldn’t have let this go out.” I poke the ashes, relieved to see the glow of live coals just beneath the surface. “Or we should have at least slept in all of our clothes.”

“But that would have involved standing up and putting them back on.

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