A Slice of Christmas Magic. A. G. Mayes
There was a quiet anxiousness in the room as Violet strode over to a computer with a large screen that sat on a deep mahogany desk. While we waited, Mr. Barnes cleaned his thick-rimmed glasses on the corner of his bright blue shirt. Lena reached over and patted down a stray chunk of his white hair that was sticking straight up on his head after he’d taken his hat off.
“Sit,” Violet demanded. We gathered chairs from around the room and pulled them up to the computer screen. I wasn’t sure what we were about to see. I smiled at Lena, hoping for reassurance, and she flashed a quick smile back at me. Her bright blue eyes lacked their usual twinkle. Violet stuck a thumb drive in the computer, and a black and white video started playing. It was taken from a high angle, looking down at a crowd walking along the street. A cloud descended on the group. It was hard to see exactly what it was in the grainy picture, but suddenly the people were taking slow, even steps. Some of them turned so they were all heading in the same direction. I shivered a little at the sight. Then suddenly everyone stopped walking. People looked around as though confused, and the crowd dispersed.
“They must be having trouble making the effects last very long,” Mr. Barnes said.
“But they’re going to make progress more quickly now that they have more spices to work with,” Aunt Erma said.
The video skipped ahead, and Stan’s parents popped up on the screen. Even in the fuzzy footage, I could recognize them. They were walking along, stopped, and looked straight into the camera.
“That’s strange,” Flora said, her brown eyes narrowed. “They know the camera is there. Why don’t they hide themselves better? They could have erased the footage if they really wanted to.”
“I thought so too,” Violet said. “The only conclusion I could come to is they wanted us to find them. That can only mean one thing. They’re trying to draw you out, Erma.”
All of our heads turned towards Aunt Erma. Her eyebrows were pinched together with worry, but she quickly rearranged her features into a brave face.
“If they want me, they’ll get me,” she said with a determined edge to her voice.
Dear Elodie,
Last week my cousin and her two young daughters were over at my house. I fed them a meal and snacks and drinks and made sure they had games to play with. When they left, I found my favorite porcelain duck statue in pieces and stuffed behind the sofa cushion. I called my cousin to confront her about it, and she denies that her daughters did anything wrong. No one else has been at my house lately. I’m blown away. I wasn’t looking for any monetary reimbursement, but I did expect an apology. I’m so mad right now, I don’t ever want them in my house again. How do I get past my anger if they won’t apologize?
Sincerely,
Decapitated Duck
Dear Decapitated Duck,
One word in your letter stuck out to me – confront. You called your cousin to confront her? Were you aggressive right off the bat? Sometimes when people feel attacked they respond with hostility. Yes, they should have admitted their wrongdoing, but maybe you should also re-examine how you handled their mistakes. Work toward forgiveness because your anger is hurting you more than anyone else.
Ask and I’ ll Answer,
Elodie
The room erupted as everyone protested at once.
“I’m going with her,” I yelled over the noise.
“Neither of you is going anywhere until we figure out if this is a trap or not.” Flora pulled out her stern librarian voice that made me shrink back a little.
“I have to go,” Aunt Erma said, almost matching Flora’s firm tone. “I’m best suited for the job since it’s my magic they’re altering. You know how dangerous it could be if they’re successful. For everyone.”
“We’ve been looking for them for months,” Violet added. “Now we’ve seen them twice in one day? They must be gearing up for something.”
Everyone was silent for a minute.
“Susie, I’m not sure you should go, though,” Lena said. “I think I should go along with Erma.”
I bristled a little at her slightly condescending tone. I might be new to this magic thing, but I knew I could be helpful. I had taken karate for three years when I was in elementary school, and kickboxing for four years in college. There were some problems magic couldn’t solve and I was ready to face them.
“We should all go,” Mr. Barnes chimed in.
“That might draw too much attention,” Violet said.
“Susie will come with me,” Aunt Erma said firmly. “We’ll go and see what’s happening and report back.” Everyone nodded. I noticed that when Aunt Erma talked, people tended to agree with her.
“And I’ll keep an eye on you through the security cameras,” Violet said, pointing at the computer screen. She had paused the image on Dennis and Brenda, and I glared at them, trying to build up my confidence. If I could keep myself from being afraid of their image, then I could definitely take them on in person. I tried not to think about Brenda’s eyes.
“I’m going to need a little time to get ready,” Aunt Erma said. I saw calculating curiosity in Violet’s eyes.
“Fine,” she said with one curt nod. “But hurry.”
We emerged from the basement and headed our separate ways. Something about the way Flora hugged me before I left made my stomach clench. How dangerous was this going to be?
“Come with me.” Aunt Erma grabbed my hand and led me to her car.
“Are we going now?” I asked, unable to keep the panic out of my voice.
“No,” she said. “There’s something I want to show you.” I got in the car.
“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Aunt Erma ran to the pie shop. She only seemed to have one speed: fast. A minute later she appeared with her dog, Mitzy, close at her heels. Mitzy was a brown ball of fluff with boundless energy. Her large, expressive brown eyes reacted when you talked to her, showing a level of understanding that I often found unsettling.
Aunt Erma opened the back door and Mitzy hopped in. Her tail was wagging so hard I thought she might take flight.
“Mitzy loves a good car ride,” Aunt Erma explained. The dog heard her name and somehow took it as an invitation to leap from the back seat into my lap.
“Hi, Mitzy,” I said flatly. I loved Mitzy, really, but I was still getting used to this furry licking creature who lived life as if she did a shot of espresso every hour.
Aunt Erma drove through Hocus Hills, which currently looked as though Father Christmas had thrown up on every street corner. Lights twinkled on every tree and bush and along the front of every shop. I didn’t see a single door without a wreath and a very elaborate winter wonderland had been set up in the town square complete with nine reindeer, several elves, and Christmas fairies. There were also banners all over town advertising the upcoming snowman-building contest. “Erma’s Pies” was one of the sponsors, and Aunt Erma had been making me practice my snowman-building skills for the last two weeks.
We drove out of town and hit the highway.
“Where are we going?” I asked. The old, light blue car was finally warm, and I sank back into the brown velvet seats. Mitzy had settled down in my lap. Her previous excitement seemed to be wearing off.
“You’ll see,” Aunt Erma said. She turned up the volume on the radio and Christmas songs filled the car. She sang