Santa Loves Curvy Girls

26. Belle

26

BELLE

M om sat down next to me on the couch, a fresh cup of hot coffee in hand. “You’re pretty quiet lately,” she said. “And you haven’t hung out with your friends like you usually do.”

I exhaled and shrugged my shoulders, hardly looking up from some cookie decoration ideas I was doodling in my journal. If I did, she might see how upset I really was. “They’ve all been busy. We all have, I guess,” I added. “I’ll probably see them for New Year’s.”

“Got big plans?” Mom asked, settling into the couch, Yeti sitting between us.

I bit my lip before answering, “Not really.” I’d been thinking of going to Haley’s big New Year’s Eve party–everyone in school went each year. But I didn’t know if I could handle going and seeing everyone kiss their crush at midnight.

We were quiet for a minute before she finally said, “You seem different, honey. Like you’re upset about something.”

There was a beat of silence, just the TV playing quietly in the background, but neither of us were paying attention to it.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you,” she went on.

I looked at her, thinking it might feel good to talk to someone about this. “There was a boy.”

“Was?” she asked, gaze completely focused on me. “There isn’t anymore?”

I shook my head. “It got complicated really fast.”

She looked at me kind of funny, and I knew she had probably already pieced most of it together. I mean, she had seen us talk and hang out a lot at Cider Center. “This wouldn’t be a certain someone who happened to wear a red suit, would it?”

I didn’t have to respond for her to know the answer. I set my journal down, giving up on the designs.

She nodded knowingly and patted my knee. “I see.”

“He made a promise he can’t break,” I told her.

“About who he really is,” Mom finished for me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I swallowed to keep them at bay. “Yeah.” I missed him, and it had only been two days. What if I never saw him again? Or worse, saw him without knowing who he really was? Would I spend the rest of my life wondering if each blue-eyed person was him?

Now she bit her lip, and I could tell she was thinking.

“There’s not much we can do,” I said. I had turned it around in my head over and over again, always coming to the same conclusion. Garland may be a magical place to live, but right now, the Secret Santa tradition didn’t feel so great.

Mom exhaled, her eyes focusing on the freshly falling snow outside the living room window. “So he can’t tell you who he is, even now.” She kept thinking. “What if one of you wrote a letter to the Secret Santa Committee of Garland, asking for special permission?”

I sat up, brows furrowed. “The what?”

“The Secret Santa Committee of Garland. They’re the ones who elect the person who will be Santa each year.”

I blinked. I’d never really thought about how Santa was selected. “Who’s on the committee?”

“It’s a secret, silly. I’m not sure anyone knows who they are, at least not the whole committee. But I’ve had my suspicions over the years, and I think I might know a way to reach them.”

Hope filled my chest. “Really? But what would I tell them?”

“Ask them to help you make a little extra Christmas magic before the year is over,” Mom said, a soft smile on her lips. “It’s worth at least pleading your case, don’t you think? You never know.”

I thought about her idea. It made a lot of sense, but I was also afraid to hope, only to be disappointed.

Mom grabbed my hand. “Think about it, Belle. Where does the Christmas magic in Garland come from?”

I looked at her. “The Christmas star?” I tried, thinking of the pretty star atop the giant tree–the one we all made our wishes on. Legend said it had been gifted to Garland by Santa himself.

She gave my hand a squeeze. “The people.” Her eyes did that thing where they got big and bright. Convincing. This was why she was the best manager Cider Center had ever had. She could get people on board with her ideas when she really believed in them. “The people of Garland create the magic from how much they care about and love each other. I’ve seen it time and time again. Other places have lost that over the years, but not Garland.”

Something inside me told me she was right. “Okay,” I said slowly. “So what do I do?”

“Write a letter to the committee,” she said, standing up. “And I’ll make sure they get it.”

After she left, I sat there for a minute, trying to process everything she’d just told me. Was there really a chance for some extra Christmas magic?

A chance for my wish to really come true?

I felt like I had no other choice but to hope just a little bit longer.

I tore away the page in my journal with my doodles so that I had a fresh page. Then I picked up my pen and began writing.