Mom’s definition of some could be in the hundreds, but I guess that meant they really did need my help. I squeezed past a snowman that was bigger than Nick and wriggled my way out the back of the van.

“You know you guys don’t have a normal job, right?”

Mom passed me a box of candy canes. Hundreds of candy canes. I knew her too well. “And since when has this family ever been normal?!”

She did have a point. We’d always been the slightly different ones. We’d moved to America from England when I was four, and since then we’d moved houses another five times, across four states. It was three years ago in Philadelphia that they’d started Good for Your Elf!, their Christmas tree rental and decoration business. It had been super successful in Nashton, so just over a year ago, they’d moved here, to Alpine Peaks in New Jersey, to “franchise and expand the business,” a.k.a., work 24–7. Nick and I had stayed with Grams, Dad’s mom, to finish the school year, then moved to join them at the start of the summer.

I’d lost count of the times they’d said this move would be “for good.” I didn’t have the heart to remind them that’s what they’d said about the other four.

I jumped out of the van. “Consider me reporting for duty, Mom.”

“Honey…” She shook her head as she looked at me. “While I appreciate all the hands I can get, next time, remember we said ‘presentable,’ not ‘stuck-at-home-with-strep chic’?”

I would feel insulted if she weren’t entirely correct. I hadn’t thought I was going to be leaving the house today, and when I committed to staying inside, I committed hard.

I looked a total mess. A hair-falling-out-of-bun, elasticated-pants, no-bra, half-of-yesterday’s-mascara-under-my-eyes, Mom’s-old-Blur-T-shirt-on mess.

“What?” I did a slow spin, my bun flopping down to just above my left ear. Nice touch. “You don’t think I make it work?”

But Mom laughed with me. “You want me to take a photo so you can post it, huh?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t want to break the internet, so I’mma hold off…”

She held out a box. “And you’re still aiming for thirty thousand followers by Christmas?”

“Uh-huh.” Show no weakness, that’s how it worked in my family—at least she was taking my account seriously. We walked up the path, my sneakers crunching the gravel. “No problem.”

I mean, it was a huge problem, but what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.