Her Christmas Miracles (Dunam Prep Boys #1)

by Lux Carmine

  Her Christmas Miracles

  Dunam Prep Boys Book 1

  Lux Carmine

  Roxie Wilder

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Also by Lux Carmine

  Chapter 1

  SKYLAR

  I dropped my book bag on my bed in the room I shared with my younger sister, Bella. She was laying across the bottom bunk, a coloring book and crayons scattered over her crumpled hot pink comforter. Her little blonde curls bobbed as she vigorously brought the off-white spaces to life. I knelt down in front of her mattress and picked up the cerulean crayon to inspect it.

  It was the most beautiful color from the box. The color of the ocean waters in far off exotic places like Hawaii, or an island in the Mediterranean. A little chuckle floated into my throat. I could dream of going to places like that, but it would never be a reality for someone like me.

  “Hey, Bella. Did you write your letter to Santa yet?”

  She didn’t look up. “No.”

  “Well, why not?” I glanced across the room at the dresser I shared with her. The notebook paper and envelope I’d set aside were still sitting there, untouched.

  “Daddy said Santa isn’t bringing me presents this year.”

  I frowned, anger bubbling up in my stomach. Why would my father say something so cruel? He was a drunk, sure, but that didn’t mean he could go around saying hurtful things. “I’m sure that’s not true. Santa brings all good boys and girls presents, Bella.”

  Bella shrugged one slender shoulder and didn’t look up from her coloring. The stiff set of her shoulders and neck told me she was upset. She wasn’t going to say anything else, but she didn’t need to. She obviously thought she didn’t deserve presents.

  Bella was the best behaved four-year-old I knew. She was obedient, funny, and thoughtful when it came to other people. When she overheard our neighbors in the trailer next door fighting about money, Bella snuck over and invited the kids to go play with her. She always shared anything she received from candy to toys. The bike she’d been given as a hand-me-down from me, was the neighborhood bike, not just hers.

  I got up and grabbed the pen, then glanced over my shoulder at her. “Let’s fill it out, just in case. What do you want me to tell Santa for you, Bella?”

  She paused in her coloring, considering me and the question I’d posed. She looked back down at her book. “Tell Santa I said hi, and to have a safe flight around the world on Christmas Eve.”

  I frowned again. “Come on, Bella. What do you want for Christmas?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, which had to be the most annoying answer known to mankind.

  “Hmm. Okay. If you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to guess.” I poised the pen over the paper and pretended to write as I spoke. “Dear, Santa. My name is Bella Reid and I am four years old. I’ve been a very good girl this year, and for Christmas I really, really want a brand new cellphone for my sister. And a car so she can take me places. And a winning lottery ticket. And—”

  Bella hopped off the bed and wrapped her tiny hands around my arm, tugging it away from the paper. “Skylar, don’t! I don’t want those things! Stop!”

  I chuckled and set the pen down. “Okay! Sorry! I was just kidding. I didn’t write any of that. But you need to write Santa something.”

  “Fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She stomped back to her bed and sat down on the edge of it, giving me a death glare. “Dear. Santa.” I grinned as I wrote down her words. She was so steaming mad that she punctuated each one with contempt. “This. Christmas. I. Want. My. Dad. To. Stop. Drinking.”

  My smile quickly faded as my heart squeezed in my chest.

  Bella huffed and stared out our tiny window. “I want him to only drink water, and maybe milk because it builds healthy bones. I also want my mom to get a job that makes a million dollars an hour. And a pony to share with my friends. Love, Bella.”

  I stopped at ‘love’ and held the pen out to her. “Come sign your name so Santa knows they’re not secretly my wishes.” She got up and, with her tongue sticking out in concentration, she signed her name. It was about as good as any other four-year-old’s handwriting, I guessed. I smoothed back her hair and pulled her against my legs for a hug. She let me hold for a moment, then twisted out of my grasp.

  “Happy now?”

  The question was a loaded one. I wasn’t happy. My little sister was asking Santa for things that were beyond miracles. There was no way he could live up to those expectations. But she’d complied, and for that I forced a smile. “Yes. But more importantly, Santa will be super happy when he receives your letter.”

  I glanced at the clock. I had exactly an hour and a half to get to the mall before my shift started. Clara had quit last night, and that left me without a ride. I’d have to walk since I didn’t have money for the bus, which meant I had to get started.

  I unloaded my school stuff onto my bedspread, then threw my uniform into my backpack, unwilling to wear it any sooner than necessary, before heading out into the living room. Dad was in his usual spot in the recliner opposite the TV. His whole life was TV and beer and microwaved frozen food. He didn’t look up as I approached him.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  After a few seconds, his head jolted and he turned his face towards me on a wobbling neck. His eyes were droopy, making him look half asleep, and half conscious—so only half dead. Definitely drunk, but that was nothing new. “Hey, baby.” He smiled and shook his beer can. “Can you be a doll and get me another one of these?”

  I swallowed back my anger and resentment. He didn’t care about me. He only cared about his empty beer can. “I will, but I need to ask you something first.”

  He stared at me, head starting to droop, before he started and jerked back to consciousness. “Okay, well hurry up, I’m going to miss my football game.”

  I eyed the TV screen quickly before returning my full attention to him. “Bella said you told her that Santa wouldn’t be coming this year.” I stepped closer even though he repulsed me while he reeked of body odor and beer. I sat on the edge of his chair in the hopes he would keep his voice down. Bella was too young to stop believing.

  My dad slipped an arm around me, his sweating, clammy hand resting on my hip. “That’s right. If she thinks he’s coming she’ll only be disappointed.”

  I shook my head and reminded myself to stay calm. The last thing I needed was a shouting match with my drunken father. “Why? I thought mom put some aside for Christmas morning.”

  He snorted and tried to take a sip of his beer. He rattled the can and peered into the top of it as if he couldn’t believe it was already empty. “Well, things change, Skylar. And when you’re a grown up like us, you’ll understand you have to make sacrifices. Life is all about sacrifices.”

  Sacrifices? What did my dad know about sacrifices? He sat on the recliner all day every day, while Mom and I went to work. Mom worked to pay for the rent and groceries, and I worked to pay for extra stuff, which usually meant Dad’s beer and the cable bill. I had sacrificed my teenage years so he could have a beer in his hand whil
e he sat in front of the AC window unit.

  Well, my mom had worked. She’d gotten laid off from her medical office job a few weeks ago. She’d been out looking for a new one, but hadn’t had any luck. She joked every time I stopped by her bedroom to say goodnight that if things didn’t improve, she’d be working at the mall alongside me.

  “What did you spend it on?” I demanded, though in my heart I already knew the answer. Maybe he thought he was crafty and sneaky, but the expensive bottle of Jack was not hidden well enough in the freezer door.

  He frowned as he turned his dull gray eyes on me. “Now that’s none of your business, is it? A man’s finances are private.”

  I stood up and slung the backpack over my shoulder.

  “Hey, where are you going?”

  “To work, Dad.”

  “What about my beer?”

  I waited until I was closing the door to retort. “It’s empty. You should probably get off your ass and get another one.”

  Chapter 2

  PARKER

  Walking through the mall, Devin sighed, running his hands through his platinum silver bleached hair. “Why are we doing this again?” he asked. He dodged yet another pack of women our moms’ age; women whose fingers were practically turning blue from carrying all the Christmas presents they’d purchased.

  “Because nobody listens to me,” Max replied. I glanced at him as he ran a hand through his dark brown hair before adjusting the black glasses he’d knocked askew.

  Devin slammed his shoulder into mine and cackled. “I still can’t believe you switched the bourbon with the cheap stuff, like nobody would notice.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well you’re the one who replaced the “year-in-review” slideshow with all those swimsuit models. That was the real trouble. We could have gotten away with the liquor, but once your dad saw all those half-naked girls …”

  “Not all of them were half-naked,” Devin protested, holding a hand to his chest as though I’d hurt him.

  “Right, some of them were totally naked.”

  Max shook his head, as always. “I told you guys to knock it off, but does anyone listen to me? No. I told you we were going to get in trouble.”

  “Nerd,” Devin shot back.

  “And look. Here we are, walking through the mall, about to go put on tights and stand around dealing with kids for hours on end, every freakin’ afternoon for the rest of the holiday season.”

  “At least Parker’s used to it.”

  I shot a disapproving look at Devin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Devin waved his hand in the air. “Those football tights. You’re used to wearing that kind of stuff.”

  “They’re pants, not tights.” They liked to give me crap about all things football. A lot of crap.

  “They look like tights from up in the bleachers.”

  I snorted. “Like you’d know. You spend most of the games under the bleachers with the other troublemakers.”

  Devin shrugged.

  “He’s not wrong,” Max said.

  It was true. Devin spent most of his time at school with the class officers, AKA the “social committee” who did more gossiping and trash talking than anything else. Max was the opposite. He spent his time drawing or going to art museums, when he wasn’t getting ahead on his homework.

  We were all so different. It didn’t matter, though, we were best friends, the three of us. Our moms had met in Lamaze class, as they liked to tell us at least once a year now, and our birthdays were one right after the other—me first, then Devin, and then Max.

  We’d been inseparable ever since, not that we’d had a choice in the matter. Thanks to the bond our moms had formed doing their weird hippie breathing to get ready for childbirth, we’d grown up together. Every playdate, every birthday party, every first day of school, always the three of us, acting as one pack. We even all lived in the same neighborhood, in matching McMansions.

  “Look, douchebags, it doesn’t matter why we have to do this crap,” I said. “Bottom line is, we’re a half hour away from being Santa’s elves for the next month.”

  “Three and a half weeks,” Max clarified.

  Before Devin had a chance to call him a nerd again, I put a hand on Devin’s shoulder. “You think there’s a lead elf? Like, which one of us is stuck with the crying kids, and which one of us gets to, I don’t know, hand out candy canes?”

  “Oh, God, I’m totally going to end up dealing with crying kids, aren’t I?” Max asked, a look of horror on his face.

  Devin laughed again and tossed his head to get his silver hair out of his eyes. “You’re so good with kids, though.”

  It was true. Max was the only one of us who had any experience with kids. He had cousins who always seemed to be running around his house. Big or small, Max had a way of getting them to do exactly what he wanted, which usually meant leaving us alone so we could play Xbox.

  “Hey,” Max said, pausing in front of the tiny art supply store, “We still have, like, twenty minutes. Can we stop in here?”

  Devin and I groaned and rolled our eyes, but we went in anyway. This was how it always went. We gave each other crap for our differences, but went along with them in the end.

  Max wandered up the aisles, stopping to check out things I really didn’t know anything about, lost in the pencils and paints and whatever else he was looking at. Finally, he grabbed a few things—three notebooks, colored pencils, and some charcoals—and headed to the register.

  “That all?” The cashier looked bored, putting her phone down to help Max—but she was hot. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t allowed to date. I had to focus on the game, that’s what Coach said. And my parents concurred, especially my dad.

  “Yeah, for now.”

  “Sixty-three dollars, ninety-two cents.”

  Max didn’t bat an eye. Really, he’d dropped so much more cash on art supplies in one go, sixty-odd dollars was nothing for him. He pulled out his wallet, and offered her his titanium card.

  Max hated that his parents wouldn’t get him a black card yet. None of our parents would. They claimed we didn’t need that kind of buying power until we were at least twenty-one. Three more years to go.

  Devin finally stopped doodling dicks in Max’s new notebooks, as if the girl didn’t notice, and made his way to the counter. “Hey,” he said to the girl. Smooth.

  “Hey,” she said, leaning forward, an interested, flirty smile on her lips. I couldn’t believe that worked. It always worked. There was something about his bright green eyes, silver hair, and leather jacket that made girls take notice.

  I mean, they noticed me, too, but since I was on a dating ban, it didn’t matter. I never engaged.

  “Crap,” Max said, catching sight of the cute girl’s phone as he took his things from her. “We’re going to be late.” Max didn’t seem to notice girls at all. He was too busy with painting and art museums and school.

  “It’s just a stupid mall job. Who cares if we’re late?” For Devin, ten minutes late was close enough to “on time.” Coach wouldn’t allow his players to be late, ever, so I’d had that idea knocked out of me a long time ago.

  “Yeah, we better get going.”

  Devin shot me a look, eyes narrowing as he craned his neck towards the hot girl. She was yammering about some new movie she was clearly trying to get him to take her to see. He hated it when I took sides, especially when me taking sides meant I was cock-blocking him. I just shrugged.

  “Let’s just go.” I led the way out of the store and back into the mall, which was becoming crowded. Why the manager had decided to start us on the evening shift instead of a weekend was beyond me, but at least it was Tuesday. It couldn’t be that busy on a Tuesday.

  Chapter 3

  SKYLAR

  I tried to make my smile look as natural as possible as I peeked out behind the camera and shook a jingle-bell covered, sequined stuffed Santa at the baby sitting on Santa’s lap. The baby’s face was almost as red as Santa�
�s suit, and the cries coming from its throat could deafen a reindeer.

  “Smile! Look here, baby! Smile for the camera!”

  It was no use. The mom stepped forward to retrieve her child, and we exchanged sympathetic looks. Santa gave me ‘the nod’ and I approached him after holding my finger up to the next person in line.

  “I need five. And a beer, but I know I can’t have that. But I need something. Grab some candy canes and meet me in the North Pole.” Santa stood up and put his hands on his stuffed belly, giving a convincing jolly laugh.

  I stepped towards the groaning crowd. “I’m sorry, kids, but Santa’s being called by Mrs. Claus. I think she has a plate full of hot cookies for Santa, and you know how much Santa loves cookies.” The mother who was next in line shot me a mean glare and I tried my best to keep the smile on my lips. It wasn’t my fault Santa was a lazy, narcissistic prick. If I could put on the Santa suit and convince little kids that I was the real deal, I’d so do it. But I couldn’t, and so I wasn’t.

  I tiptoed across the stage and tapped my manager, Gwendolyn, on the shoulder. She was an older lady with white hair pulled back into a severe bun. She’d been running this Santa show since the mall’s opening, back in the seventies. She glanced at me, puckered her lips, and ducked her head, trying to catch a peek at Santa and the stalled line. “Where is Santa?”

  “He, um … wanted some cookies?”

  Gwendolyn pinched the bridge of her nose, giving her head a shake, her jingle bell earrings tinkling softly with the movement. “Again? I’m getting too old for this reindeer-shit. First Sadie, Sarah, and Clara quit on the job, and now this. When you go in there, you tell him this is his second break of the evening. He’ll get a dinner break and that’s it.”