This was Arthur, for God’s sake. The boy who’d been pissy at me because I sat in his favorite chair at school, and felt compelled to try to answer every question in a way that made even the Barrington teachers (with the exception of Ms. Martinez, who seemed to find him amusing) grit their teeth.

And who was theoretically blackmailing me into helping him have a good holiday with his aunt.

I would likely never have to deal with him again once I told my parents I didn’t want to go back to boarding school. It wasn’t as if our worlds naturally crossed.

My grip on the side of the sleigh tightened.

Axe hopped back up into the sleigh beside his brother as we approached the winter-bare woods.

It was quiet and peaceful.

I started to relax. I noticed Dad and Aunt Esha were also relaxing. I saw Aunt Esha look out at the woodsy surroundings with a gentle smile, which pleased me. Maybe this would tip the balance of her holiday to Christmas into positive territory.

Then Axe stood up and turned to face us, holding a black metal box high above his head: the Snow Doodad.

I found out later its official name was a handheld, portable SnowMAX-Q112 Snow Machine, which, when activated, rivaled a leaf blower in terms of decibels.

To counter the less-than-jolly audio ambience, Drakk tapped a button on his phone, which was when we learned the sleigh came equipped with customized inlaid speakers, one of which was right next to my left ear.

The first notes of “Sleigh Ride” as sung by Johnny Mathis blasted out like a cannonball.

I screamed and jumped, my shoulder slamming into Arthur’s, startling him as much as the music shockwave that hit him from the right.

We collided in the middle, the six inches of separation suddenly gone.

“Sorry,” I said, though since I hadn’t shouted it, he probably had to read my lips over the noise.

He nodded and we did our best to scoot back to our respective sides.

But that now-familiar woodsy amber scent lingered on the right side of my coat and, full disclosure, I wasn’t exactly unhappy about it.

Fortunately, distraction found me by way of “snow” shooting from the doodad into the air above us.

Initially, it was pretty.

The white dots arcing high and swirling through the wind really did convey the feeling of being in a snow globe or winter wonderland.

Then they landed, on me, on Arthur, on Dad and Aunt Esha, and it soon became clear this wasn’t snow, this was foam. And the chemicals used to create its effects sting like hell when they land in your naked eyeball. Guess how I know that.

Blinking rapidly, I rubbed my right eye, which made the situation worse. And smeared my mascara.