Page 5 of The Grinch Who Stole Orcmas

I tip my head as I have an internal discussion, wondering just why these humans being mean to Joy pushed all my buttons.

Joy blinks, then a slow smile spreads across her face. Not her usual manic grin, but something softer. “Thank you, Grum,” she says quietly, her voice more sincere than I’ve ever heard it.

“You’re thanking me? For running off all your helpers?”

“Well.” She shrugs. “They weren’t super helpful, and theywereunkind but they were right about the sweaters being too hot.”

She shrugs, and with a sigh, she grasps the bottom of the bright red sweater featuring a large reindeer with sunglasses and lights that actually illuminate and blink. The bells in her earrings tinkle as she pulls the sweater over her head. She has a green Christmas t-shirt with elves all over it underneath. I swallow a groan.

“Besides,” her gaze pierces mine, “I still have you, right?”

I clamp my teeth together, ordering myself not to tell her I’d be gone, too, if my job didn’t depend on it. Instead, for some reason, I shrug, feeling my ears heat. “Yes. I’m gunning for Volunteer of the Year.”

“I’ll put buying a plaque for you on my to-do list. But thanks. I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t.”

Turning back to the wreaths, I try to ignore the warm feeling in my chest. It doesn’t mean anything. I just can’t stand whiners, that’s all. It has nothing to do with Joy or her ridiculous Christmas obsession.

Nothing at all.

Right?

She did turn off the damn music. Thank the Goddess for small blessings.

I spend the rest of the afternoon hanging wreaths and untangling lights, all while trying to ignore the way Joy keeps glancing at me. Her eyes are full of something that looks dangerously close to gratitude. Frankly, I have no idea how to handle it.

It’s after dark when Joy approaches me again. She’s holding two steaming paper cups, and the rich aroma of coffee fills the air.

“I thought you might need this,” she says, offering me one of the cups. “It’s getting late, and we still have so much to do.”

I eye the cup suspiciously. “Let me guess, it’s some sickeningly sweet peppermint mocha frappa-latte thing, right?”

Joy laughs, and the sound is surprisingly pleasant. “No, just black coffee from the vending machine. Strong enough to put hair on your chest… or, well, more hair on your chest, I suppose.”

Despite myself, my mouth twitches in what I think is the beginning of a smile. Taking the cup, I grunt out a reluctant, “Thanks.”

As we sip our coffee in blissful, non-Christmas-music silence, I study Joy. Up close, the dark circles under her eyes are noticeable, although it looks like she tries to cover them with makeup. Her cheerful demeanor might be irritating, but I have to admire her dedication.

“You know, you might want to consider… cutting back.” Though I’ve only known her a few days, I knew exactly what her face would look like when I said that—like she just swallowed a cat turd. Because I’m not ready to be on the receiving end of her tongue-lashing, I continue without a breath. “I mean,tentrees? You don’t think maybe six would do? And all the wreaths? Maybe we could spread them farther apart? Looks like you could use a day off.”

Joy sighs, her constant smile faltering for a moment. “I know. It’s just… this event means so much to me. To the kids. It needs to be perfect. I can rest on the 26th.”

I nod, understanding her drive, if not her method. “Well, don’t work yourself to death over it. These kids would probably be happy with a candy cane and a high-five from Santa.”

She laughs again, and this time, I allow myself a small smile in return. Maybe this mandatory “volunteer” gig won’t be a complete nightmare after all.

Chapter 4: The Great Gift Heist

Joy

As I stride through the halls of the community center, I feel a little thrill that I’m much more comfortable here in the Zone than I was a few days ago. I must admit, the first time I passed two tall minotaurs in the hall, their horns practically scraping the ceiling and their loincloths leaving very little to the imagination, I questioned both my sanity and my judgment.

Now, though, I don’t bat an eye as I navigate the Integration Zone streets and this building, passing nagas with their beautiful, shimmering scales, and wolven with their menacing fangs and bushy tails. It feels… wonderful, inclusive. It’s just what I envisioned when I convinced the board of directors to open the event to Others—better communication and increased trust between the species.

My soaring mood is dashed the moment I approach the door to the auditorium we’re using.

“What do you mean, they’regone?” Grum’s growl is unmistakable. Lord knows I’ve heard it often enough since he was voluntold to help me. Only this is the angriest, scariest, snarliest tone I’ve heard yet.

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