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•Booking form for hall!!
•Make 200 snowflakes
•Try to get over Dad throwing away the first 200 snowflakes
“Slice?” Dad offered me some Chocolate Orange the second he stopped for the lights. Some people might not think Christmas chocolate was OK before 7 a.m. but those people were not my dad. For last night’s dinner he’d just had mince pies.
But chocolate always helped. I chewed and stared out of Cara the Camper Van’s frosty window as we drove past Holly Hospice, their little Christmas tree hardly staying upright in the breeze and broken lights dangling off their roof. I could see why Grace wanted to raise as much money as possible to help Grampy G’s friends have fun.
Not that anyone else was awake yet. We’d had to set off SO early to get to Edinburgh for the Sleigh Another Day event. But I didn’t mind. Just one more day and this whole film nightmare would be over. Elijah had asked me to do a Little Elf Girl takeover of the film’s social account with “lots of elfies”. I think his vision was for me to be in the posts, but Grace and I had come up with a much safer idea. I’d brought my elf hat and we were going to put the bell at the very bottom of each photo, like there was a tiny elf posing just out of shot. Then all I had to do was upload them, and wait for Elijah to hand over the footage.
Finally something going right. This week had been awful. I snuck a last look at the picture of me that had been posted. Before we picked up Grace and her dad, I needed to get my “it’s fine, I’m dealing with this” face back on.
Eurgh. Every time I looked at it, I felt the same sick thud, like the world had tilted off balance. Harry smouldering and my stupid blinking elf face.
Why on earth had SleighAllTheDaysFans, the stupid film fan account, shared this photo with the world? And how had they got it in the first place?! I wanted to kill Harry.
689 likes.
45 comments.
1 caption that might ruin my whole life.
Ten years later and THIS is what the “Love Your Elf!” girl looks like! Can we call it an exclusive?!
Shout out to @MollytheLolly for turning up to the Liverpool light switch-on and taking such a great elfie
! So jelz she got to hang with Maeve and Joseph! Mol, if you’re reading can you give us the inside gossip on #Maeseph?! #hohoho #peacetoallelves #seeingthefilmsisgoodforyourelf #sleighanotherday
Harry never said he ran a fan account, but when I’d immediately messaged him to take it down, he’d pretended to be clueless.
Harry: Sorry Molly (also that rhymes). No idea what you’re talking about. The only one I sent that photo to was you 
And the only person I’d sent it to was Grace. And there was no way it was her.
All week I’d been petrified someone I knew might start following SleighAllTheDaysFans, so I’d checked I was on private, changed my profile picture to a picture of a slice of toast and asked Grace to stop following me, so there were no clues the account they’d tagged could be me.
But who would do this? I couldn’t bring myself to look at any of it, but Grace had done a full deep dive. Apparently it was a gossip account just for the film’s mega-fans. Photos of the cast. Interview clips. Rumours about who was dating who. Behind the scenes photos and pap pics. Grace had tried to report the post. She’d chosen “inappropriate” as the reason it breached guidelines – no lie, though, sharing a picture of me as a blinking elf was deeply, deeply inappropriate. But it was still there.
I scrolled down the comments. At least there were less new ones every day.
“Lol.”
“Why is he standing next to that mutant?”
“Check out my TikTok. Link in Bio. I originated the ElfYoSelf challenge!!!”
I felt sick all over again. I stared out of the windscreen – all the streets and places that felt like home feeling at risk of changing for ever.
My school. Where up until now I’d just been Molly. Nothing out of the ordinary Molly. Not embarrassing-Elf-Girl Molly.
The newsagent. Where I’d been Molly. Sure, slightly obsessed with Freddos Molly, but not in-a-ridiculous-singing-family Molly.
The bus stop where Grace had pressed send on that first email to Zaiynab. And now The POWR were a few clicks away from realizing I was a national musical laughing stock.
But wait… I froze.
What was that new comment?!
“Is Elf Girl at St Augustine’s??? I SWEAR she did a coding camp with me 
Also. Campaign for better elf emoji starts here.”
I groaned so loudly Dad heard it over his exceptionally powerful rendition of “Stay Another Day”.
“Harmony time?” He turned the volume up even more, his eyebrows wiggling in excitement, making his Santa beard wobble. Why he was wearing a fake Santa beard to drive Cara was beyond me. But I’d realized from a young age that asking my family questions was dangerous.
“DAD!” I had to yell. “THAT WASN’T A HARMONY! IT WAS ME GROANING.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound lit.” He was still deep in his using-words-he-didn’t-understand phase. I didn’t have the energy to explain. “What’s up, Mol?”
The fact he said things like that, for one. The fact that I’d begged him to dress normal and he was wearing a Christmas jumper that said Feliz Navi-Dad with a picture of his own face on was another. “Nothing,” I lied. Our argument last night had confirmed that trying to explain was pointless.
“The Brussel Shouts have been asked to go on” – he’d begun cheerfully. I’d hoped he was going to finish the sentence with “a permanent hiatus” – “The One Show to talk about Love Your Elf!”
I’d begged them not to go, said I’d never ask for a single Christmas present ever again, but all Mum and Dad had said was “potentially”, which is British for “it’s the answer you don’t want to hear”.
Eurgh. Everything was getting so out of control. And even though I’d sent off the new lyrics they’d asked for, Zaiynab and Matt hadn’t said a word about the band. Was it because they didn’t like my lyrics? Or had they figured out my connection to the worst band in history? Because at school I couldn’t shake a feeling. Had people started whispering when I walked past?
If this was the most wonderful time of the year, the other eleven months must be pretty terrible.
“Well, whatever ‘nothing’ is, this should help…” Dad turned up his favourite Christmas song. “Let It Snow” by Dragos Cicu. “And did I tell you it’s SNOWING in Edinburgh!” He sighed, a big grin on his face. “It’s going to be magical.”
We pulled up outside Grace’s house. Their cottage was the only one on the road that didn’t have a single decoration up. Dad beeped. I wasn’t sure how Mr W was going to feel about his neighbours getting woken up by a bright orange camper van, with flashing Christmas lights, blaring a tinny “Wish You a Merry Christmas” at 7 a.m., but I also wasn’t sure he had a choice. Mr W and Grace walked out of their house doing polite sorry waves to the next-door neighbours, who were flinging their bedroom curtains open, looking less than impressed.
I jumped in the back and watched as Mr W climbed in, taking in the tinsel on Cara’s gear stick, brand new Christmas ham air freshener and drink holders that had been turned into pots of Lindt balls.
He sat down silently, potentially in shock, as Grace and I hugged hello.
“Can I just say.” Grace inspected the van. “Cara is looking particularly divine.”
“Glad someone appreciates it.” Dad shot me a look in the rear-view mirror. “Which reminds me, I’ve been chatting to Sam,” Dad said cheerfully, as if there wasn’t a mute man blinking next to him. “And he agrees. How about we get the ol’ band back together for Grampy G’s party? The Brussel Shouts taking to the stage for one last time?”
Dad had a glint in his eye, lost in his vision. His terrifying vision. He moved his hand in the air.
“Molly … on backing vocals.” Never going to happen. “Maybe bass guitar too?”
“You know I don’t play in public,” I hissed. But he ignored me completely and carried on.
