"What is it," Herr asked. I looked over my shoulder at her and then back down to the object in my hands. "It's a nutcracker," I replied in the most level tone I could possibly manage. If I sounded too excited she would walk away, then gossip to all of her "cool" friends about me. If I sounded uninterested, she'd snatch it up out of my hands and run. I definitely didn't want that.
It was the most interesting nutcracker I'd ever seen, that was for certain. The usually white, flyaway hair was pitch black and sleek, flowing gracefully down to chiseled shoulders. Instead of the traditional red coat and black trousers, this particular bauble was clothed in a plain black tee-shirt and what appeared to be blue jeans. The eyes were painted a beautiful, crystalline, emerald green that was unlike any piece of art that I'd ever seen. There was just something about them . . . Something hauntingly sad and desperate . . . Something human that drew me in.
"Hel-lo, Earth to Clara, answer me," My supposed best friend huffed. I shook my head and discreetly rolled my eyes. "I'm sorry, what was the question?" I could practically see her slip into a pout. She was definitely not used to being ignored. I mean, who would dare block out The Great Herriett Dross? "I asked you where you got it," she hissed. Of course, she had to know where everything came from in case it suddenly became "in" to have one. "It was just left here for me," I explained, "I have no clue where it came from, or who it came from, for that matter." In case she thought I was holding out on her or something, I forked over the note that had been left with my little Christmas present. It didn't matter if she crumpled it up and threw it away anymore; I'd memorized every single word.
"To Clara Von Landen," it read in curly red script, "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year's to you!
