Praise for It Happened At Christmas
It Happened at Christmas is a sweet young adult romance full of heart and character. Christen Krumm is a debut author you’ll want to watch.
Sara Ella, award-winning author of the Unblemished trilogy and Coral
This holiday story is the lovechild of a nostalgic 90s romcom and the perfection of a Hallmark classic. There’s no better way to enjoy the holidays … or anytime of the year really!
Neysa Walker, Songwriter/composer and Instagram enthusiast
A sweet and funny YA twist on a beloved movie.
Emilie Hendryx
It Happened At Christmas
Christen Krumm
Copyright © 2019 by Christen Krumm
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Emilie Haney of EAH Creative
Cover Photo: Brooke Cagle
To Mom — I finally did it!!
To Elsie — This one is for you, baby girl.
To Anette — My forever Hallmark Christmas Movie watching partner
I love y’all!
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
If she never saw another piece of Bubblicious bubble gum, it would be too soon.
Murphy Cain flexed her hand before picking up the paint scraper. She’d been hacking at the dried gum on the bathroom wall for over two hours and had hardly made a dent. Why Claire Bentley insisted on creating her own gum wall “just like that one in Seattle” was beyond her. It was disgusting.
Claire Bentley. The Iverson Queen “B.” Her daddy’s money kept her from being expelled from Iverson — well, that and the fact that no one was outing Claire as the orchestrator of this mess. And Headmistress Kingfisher couldn’t very well let go of every girl on this floor. Oh, no. Too much money would be lost.
Murphy cringed at the sound of the scraper chipping away two more pieces of the hardened gum, hundreds left staring her down. The mere fact it was multiple girls’ saliva and germs stuck to the wall—and probably a few of the boys’—made Murphy’s stomach tighten with nausea. The saddest part about it was she wished she was a part of creating it. Because that would mean she was one of the elite. Not the Cinderella of Iverson Hall.
Another chunk of gum landed on the floor. The piece looked fresher than most. She told herself she wouldn’t throw up—then she’d have to clean that up too. At least they had found this mountain of gum now, midway through the year, instead of at the end. She wasn’t kidding herself. She knew there’d probably be another gum wall up by then. One wall for now was a small bit of relief.
The bathroom door opened with a whisper and then clanged shut. Murphy caught a whiff of expensive perfume. Keeping her head down, she swallowed the groan fighting to get out.
“Oh. It’s you.” Claire Bentley shot a glare in Murphy’s direction, and glided into the bathroom, nose gracefully pointing in the air like she’d stumbled over something unsavory. Claire gave herself a long appreciative glance in the mirror. Long fingers sporting an immaculate manicure fluffed her already, perfectly-poofed hair. She fluttered her eyelashes, thick with extensions. Murphy watched with growing dread as Claire pulled out a tube of lipstick, smearing the stain on her pouted lips. She smacked before leaning over and pressing them to the mirror Murphy had just cleaned.
Claire, with her doey green eyes and her ridiculously long legs, was the envy of every girl in school. And of course, the most popular girl would be exclusive with the school’s hottest guy. Tripp Harrington.
Just thinking about him made Murphy’s stomach do flip-flops. Every girl at Iverson had a crush on him, and he was wasted—in her humble opinion—on Claire Bentley.
“Hi, Claire.” Murphy did her best to sound casual, but wished she could find a hole to hide in.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, Claire would be gone for three glorious weeks.
Murphy held on to the mantra while Claire rambled on and on about her holiday, and where her parents were “dragging” her. Barf. Murphy wished for the millionth time since meeting Claire that the girl didn’t love the sound of her own voice so much.
Claire’s gum smacked. “I mean. It’s Fiji. How basic can you get?”
Murphy hated the stupid gum wall even more with its creator feet from her. The thoughts were making her cheeks burn with anger. Sitting here on hands and knees, scraping endlessly. Humiliating.
Murphy would have loved to be out of Iverson for the holiday season.
Growing up it was only Murphy and her dad. Thick as thieves and completely inseparable, they’d covered almost an entire wall of their tiny apartment with a huge map. Spending hours at the library during rainy, New England Saturdays, they charted their hopeful course across the globe and dreamt of all the adventures they’d have while traveling.
Not anymore. Now she and Iverson were inseparable—whether she wanted it that way or not.
“Well, don’t you think so?” Apparently, there had been a question somewhere in Claire’s monologue.
Murphy sat back on her heels, her knees numb from the hard tile floor, hating that she even felt like she had to have a conversation with Claire. “What?”
Taking a compact out of her bag, Claire pursed her lips before giving Murphy a look of disapproval as she patted at a non-existent blemish on her face.
Murphy turned back to the gum with a roll of her eyes, knowing Claire wouldn’t see. She hated that her courage came from knowing she could hide her expression from Claire. With a wall of mirrors in front of her, Claire would be too busy staring at her own perfection.
“Never mind. I’ll just have to deal with it I guess,” Claire sniffed.
Murphy heard Claire snap the compact closed and could feel the weight of her stare. Murphy watched from the corner of her eye as Claire slipped her makeup back into her bag with a flourish. She raised a perfectly French-tipped fingernail to touch her protruding bottom lip. She studied Murphy intently.
Murphy forced herself not to squirm.
“Murphy, darling, overalls are cute, but if you ever expect to get a guy to look at you, you should probably put on something a little less … frumpy,” she said with false brightness.
Murphy looked down at her dirt and paint-splattered overalls. Her work clothes. She had two school uniforms and couldn’t afford to ruin them. She decided to not to give Claire a reaction. Maybe that’d make her leave.
Claire moved closer, her impossibly high heels click-clacking toward Murphy. She was standing directly over her now.
Murphy scrambled to her feet not wanting to give Claire ground. Not like it mattered. Claire was a good five inches taller
than Murphy’s five foot two without her ridiculous shoes. She towered endlessly with the added height.
At least Murphy wasn’t on her knees now.
She hated that she let Claire make her feel small.
Taking the piece of gum she’d been smacking out of her mouth, Claire reached slowly around Murphy’s shoulder, her green eyes never breaking contact with Murphy’s. She slowly smooshed the gum into an empty spot that Murphy had just cleared.
“Ciao, darling,” Claire said, and with a flip of her hair, she sauntered out of the bathroom.
Murphy threw her scraper at the closed door. She wanted to scream, but no way would she give Claire the satisfaction of hearing her frustration. Hopefully, Murphy wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore before she left for Fiji.
Turning, Murphy looked at herself in the wall of mirrors. Her dark, coarse hair was pulled back into a low pony. Her skin, always the shade of a deep tan, was smooth. She could thank her father’s heritage for her darker color. Her nose was sprinkled with freckles, a gift from her fair mother. She thought at the age of seven she could scrub them off but found that to be a fruitless effort.
Her hands were cracked from scrubbing pots and pans the night before. She was slim which meant her hand-me-down overalls fit her loosely, but frumpy?
Murphy stomped her foot, frustrated. Upset she’d given even a small moment to the worry. She couldn’t afford to give thought to Claire’s words when they were so flippantly used.
She turned back to the lumpy wall. It wasn’t going to de-gum itself.
After spending the rest of her day scraping gum, Murphy made a pact with herself, promising to keep an eye on the wall in the coming months. Gum was sure to start appearing out of nowhere again in January when everyone came back from the holiday break.
Stopping by the refrigerator, she grabbed the sandwich Mrs. Potts made for her earlier. Swiping a bag of chips from the pantry and a bottle of Dr. Pepper she retired to her closet of a room off the kitchen.
Murphy pushed the door closed with her hip. A wave of relief washed over her seeing her best friend’s legs dangling from her loft bed. Setting her dinner on the desk, she clamored up next to Emmaline. Leaning over, she grabbed her plate, and plopped down so hungry she’d eat before she took a shower.
Murphy bumped her shoulder against Emmaline. “Hiding again?”
Emmaline looked over the People magazine she was reading. “Yes. Adrienne has invited Jack over to say goodbye and I really didn’t feel like watching them suck face.” She stole a chip out of the bag and popped it in her mouth.
Murphy shook her head, crunching off a bite of pickle. “How they get away with that is beyond me. Not that Headmistress Kingfisher would be any more pleased to find her star pupil visiting the staff.”
“Oh, shut it. You are not staff. You’re also a student.”
Once upon a time, she had lived on the sixth floor with the elite of Iverson, had even been friends with Claire, but when Murphy’s grandmother died everything changed. No other relatives stepped forward and, per her grandmother’s will, Murphy became a ward of the school.
To preserve the little money she had left in her account, Murphy was given a room barely bigger than the pantry and allowed to stay on at Iverson only if she worked her way through. So, it was classes and homework from seven a.m. until four p.m., rubber gloves and nasty toilets until she was done with the Headmistress’ extensive checklists. That left homework shoved into the hours before sleep trapped her tired body.
Finishing her simple dinner, Murphy dropped the paper plate in the trash can next to her desk. There wasn’t much fluff decorating her room. The deep windowsill doubled as her bookcase for the few books she owned. Other than a potted succulent, the only decoration was a large yellowing world map covering the wall over her bed. Red, blue, and green push tacks still marked the various places she and her father had promised to travel to one day.
“True, but still, you are a paying student in staff quarters,” Murphy pointed out. “You just better be glad Mrs. Potts likes me. Be right back, I’m going to wash the stench of Claire and her gum wall off me.”
Murphy bent to her dresser which, due to space restrictions, was housed beneath the loft bed. Leaving Emmaline to thumb through her magazine, she took a quick shower relishing the hot water.
“So I bumped into The Queen today.” Murphy stepped out the bathroom, towel drying her hair while relaying the entire conversation to Emmaline. “She was complaining about having to spend Christmas in Fiji.”
Emmaline rolled her eyes. “Oh, my sweet goodness. The nerve of that … ugh. Cousin or not, I can’t stand her.”
Murphy tossed her towel into the hamper. “Remember when we used to all hang out and she was actually nice?”
“Man, those were the days.” Emmaline discarded her magazine and picked up graphic novel Murphy had gotten from the school library. “What happened?”
Pulling a pair of socks from her dresser, Murphy leaned against the desk to tug them on. What had happened? She tried to remember a specific event that deemed them enemies but couldn’t think of anything concrete. The only thing that stuck out was Murphy’s move to the downstairs.
“I don’t think Claire was comfortable being friend with someone in my ‘lowly position’,” Murphy air quoted. “She’s threatened by my toilet scrubbing abilities.”
“Murph…” Emmaline hated Murphy’s self-deprecating talk.
She shrugged. “Eh, she’s probably just hungry. Too skinny,” she joked.
Emmaline fell into a fit of laughter. “That’s the truth!”
The girls’ giggles were interrupted by a knock at the door and Mrs. Potts stuck her head in. Her apron was still tied around her round waist keeping her daily uniform of jeans and sweater clean.
“Hello, girls.” Gray curls bounced on her head as she nodded a greeting to Emmaline who peeked around the wall. “Murphy, I was just on my way out, but was wondering if you could possibly go with Mr. Gruber on the bus to drop the students at the train station tomorrow? Beth was supposed to help out, but she got called home earlier than she expected.”
The one reprieve to student working was Murphy answered directly to Mrs. Potts — Iverson’s head cook and housekeeper. After Murphy’s change of luck, and she’d ended up as her right-hand woman. Thankfully, Mrs. Potts happily took her under her wing and through the years they ended up having more of a grandmother/granddaughter relationship.
“Yes, Ma’am, I can go tomorrow.” Sure Beth had gotten called home early. Murphy bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling. She bet Beth leaving early had more to do with Floyd and Lloyd Taylor’s pranks earlier that morning. The twins, Murphy’s only friends other than Emmaline, had switched the saltshakers out with sugar and had tied pop caps to the pantry door. The sugar and salt mix up caused an outburst from Claire who humiliated Beth in front of the other students. Then, when she walked into the pantry to fix the issue, the pop caps scared her badly from what Murphy had heard. She’d forgotten that the part time help wasn’t used to the brothers’ daily pranks.
At least if she helped Mr. Gruber, she’d be getting off campus for a little bit. They would probably pop into Bob and Ellie’s for lunch. The groundskeeper enjoyed the diner’s juicy hamburgers on his town runs, and Murphy’s mouth water at the thought of their fries and strawberry shakes.
“Thank you, dear. Emmaline, are you all packed and ready to go?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“In case I don’t see you in the morning, you have a nice holiday with your family, and we’ll see you when you get back,” Mrs. Potts said a kind smile lighting her wrinkled features.
“You too, Mrs. Potts. As crazy as it sounds, I always miss this place when I’m gone.”
“Not crazy at all, dear.” Mrs. Potts took a watch from one of her apron’s pockets and stifled a yawn. “Murphy, Mr. Gruber would like to leave at 7 a.m., so if you can help me remind him in the morning, that would be great.”
&
nbsp; Murphy chuckled. Writing it down or not, Mr. Gruber was forever forgetting his itinerary. He always shrugged it off as old age, which left it to her and Mrs. Potts to make sure he got to his destinations on time.
“You bet, Mrs. Potts.”
“Good night, girls.” Mrs. Potts let the door click behind her.
“I wish there was a way you could come to Paris with me,” Emmaline said after Mrs. Potts had left. “Are you sure there’s no way possible that you can get Headmistress Kingfisher to sign off for you to leave, just this once? It’s Christmas!”
“First of all, Mistress Hyde,” Murphy snorted at her use of their nickname for the Headmistress. “left yesterday. Second, I’m pretty sure she would rather hang upside down by her toenails on a ceiling fan before signing off to let me leave campus.”
Emmaline let out a groan of frustration. “Why does she hate you so much?”
Murphy shrugged wanting to know the answer just as much as her friend.
“I wish you could sneak away. It’s so unfair.”
Murphy wished she was the rule breaking type. She could “do it now, ask for forgiveness later,” but if she were honest, she couldn’t bring herself to buck the system.She only had about eighteen months left (seventeen months, fifteen days, and thirteen hours to be precise) before she graduated and then there would be no one forbidding her from going anywhere.
The end of her time at Iverson was in sight, and it couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Two
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