Before she had a chance to respond her mother had barged in with her angry face, waving a piece of paper at her. “What is this!?” “Oh, crap,” Hope muttered. She’d left the flyer for the Candy Stripers audition on the kitchen table. “Don’t oh crap me—answer my question, young lady.” She took out her earbud headphones, even if she was tempted to turn up the volume. “I think it’s a flyer for tomorrow’s audition for the new Candi Kane & the Candy Stripers show. It says it right on there.” “You better not be planning on going to this.” “I haven’t decided yet.” “It wasn’t a question—you’re not going. And where did you get this money?” Now she was waving two crisp hundred-dollar bills. “What do you think, I stole it?” “You don’t make that kind of money at the Christmas tree lot. And I know Santa certainly didn’t come early this year.” “I got it from his wife.” Her mother looked confused. “Whose wife?” “Santa Claus.” “I’m not messing around, Hope.”
