“I know,” Emily whispered.
“I mean, I’m happy it’s over,” Aria said quickly. “But it doesn’t seem real. You know?”
Emily did know. Ali had been gone for years without any answers. And A—Mona Vanderwaal—had impersonated Ali so expertly, they’d all thought she was back until her body was uncovered.
“It is real, though,” Emily said quietly, shifting her feet in the cold, spiny grass. She felt like crying as the words spilled from her mouth. As much as she wanted Ali back, there was nothing she could do to change the past. Ali was gone. End of story.
Chapter 2
Away in a Manger
Forty-five minutes later, Emily parked her bike in the garage and walked back into her house. The beef stew Mrs. Fields had made for dinner was sitting on top of the stove, but there was no one in the kitchen to eat it.
Emily found her mother pacing around the den, her shoulder-length hair loosened from its ponytail and her green eyes wild. Emily’s father was following behind her, rubbing her shoulders and saying, “It’s okay. Calm down. Please.”
“What’s going on?” Emily squeaked.
Mrs. Fields stopped in the middle of the round braided rug. “Something terrible has happened.”
Emily’s heart began to pound. Had Ian gotten out of prison after all? Was someone else dead? “Oh no,” she whispered.
Mrs. Fields collapsed on the couch and placed her head in her hands. “My baby Jesus has been stolen! It was a precious antique!”
It took a few moments for the words to sink in. Emily recalled her mother hauling a ceramic baby Jesus out of the attic on Thanksgiving, nestling it into the backseat of the car, and proudly pointing it out in the Nativity scene on the church lawn every Sunday after that.
“I’m so upset,” Mrs. Fields went on. “It was an heirloom from your grandmother!”
The phone rang, and Mrs. Fields pounced on it. “Judith?” she said into the receiver, springing to her feet and heading into the other room. Emily and her dad exchanged a look.
“That was Judith Meriwether at the church,” Mrs. Fields said when she returned. “She and some of the other people on the church staff have a hunch about who stole the baby Jesus. They think it’s a group of college girls home on winter break. They’ve been terrorizing neighborhoods, stealing decorations and messing up lawns. Apparently they call themselves the Merry Elves.”
Before she could stop herself, Emily cracked a smile at the name, and Mrs. Fields shot her a look. “It’s not funny. Judith says they call themselves that because they all work as elves at Santa Land at the Devon Crest Mall in West Rosewood. Judith works there as the assistant manager, and she’s heard them say a few things that piqued her interest.” Mrs. Fields scrunched up her face once more. “I can’t believe they took the baby Jesus. They’ve probably smashed it to pieces!”
“Now, now.” Mr. Fields rubbed his wife’s back.
“I’m really sorry, Mom,” Emily said, perching on the arm of the couch. “Is there anything I can do?”
Mrs. Fields dried her eyes with the embroidered handkerchief she always carried around. “We need to stop this blasphemy. But it’ll take someone infiltrating the group and catching the girls in the act to get the proof we need.” She placed her hand on Emily’s arm. “The Santa Land at the Devon Crest Mall is looking for a new Santa—the old one was fired for hitting on girls.” Mrs. Fields shuddered slightly. “Anyhow, I told Judith you could be the new Santa. It’s a perfect way to spy on these girls.”
“Me? A spy?” Emily blurted. There was no way she was taking a job as Santa Claus. She’d thought about getting a job over the holidays, especially after her father had mentioned that his Christmas bonus was going to be smaller this year, but she had been thinking of something more along the lines of a gift-wrapper at Macy’s or a salesgirl at FrogLand, the swim specialty shop. Playing Santa sounded as challenging as being Mickey Mouse at Disney World. If you got it wrong, you’d ruin a kid’s whole year. Not to mention that she didn’t really fit the part.
“Please, honey?” Mrs. Fields’s chin wobbled. “I really need you to do this.”
“But I don’t have any experience with kids,” Emily protested. “And I don’t think I’d be a good spy.”
Mrs. Fields’s eyebrows made a V. “You have plenty of experience with kids. You did lots of babysitting when you were younger. And what about when you were a Wilderness Guide at Rosewood Happyland Day Camp?”
Like that really counted. Emily and Ali had signed up to be Wilderness Guides the summer between sixth and seventh grades, mostly because Ali had a crush on the canoeing instructor. In the course of the first hour, a little girl peed on Emily’s foot, a boy bit her, and a group of kids pushed her into a patch of poison ivy. After all that, Ali had discovered that Canoe Boy had a girlfriend. They’d quit after lunch and laughed about it all summer. Whenever Emily or Ali was in a bad mood, they’d say, I’m having a Wilderness Guide kind of day.
“And you would make an excellent spy,” Mrs. Fields went on. “The elves are just a few years older than you are, and I know you can break into their clique and dig up some good information on them.”
“Why can’t Carolyn do it?”
Mrs. Fields’s nostrils flared. “Because Carolyn already has a job over the break. She’s working as a waitress at Applebee’s.”
Emily would gladly deliver sizzling fajita pans and margaritas to drunken patrons instead. “But Santa is usually a guy. Won’t kids get confused when they hear my voice?” she asked as a last-ditch effort.