North
Pole High: A Rebel Without a Claus
Candace Jane Kringle aka
Candycane Claus
Genre: YA
teen romance/humor/fantasy
Publisher: elfpublished
books
ISBN: 9780615681917
Number of pages: 302
Word Count: 80,000
Cover Artist: Jessica
Weil
Book Description:
MEET SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD CANDYCANE CLAUS. She's the most
popular girl at North Pole High. Her father is world-famous. And
every day is Christmas. What more could any girl want?
BOYS! And the new boy, Rudy Tutti, is hot chocolate. But he hates anything to do with Christmas!
When Candy and Rudy are forced to work together on a school Christmas-tree project, her world is turned upside down: Her grades start to suffer, she loses her taste for ice cream, and now the two North-Star-cross'd teens must contend with her overprotective father — Santa Claus — before Christmas is ruined for EVERYONE!
About the Author:
Candace Jane Kringle is a
junior at North Pole High. She likes candy canes, unicorn races, and
making snow angels. Her father is the most well-known and beloved
toy-maker and distributor in the world. Her memoir, North
Pole High: A Rebel Without a Claus, is her
first book. After high school, she plans to enroll at North Pole
University and write more books.
THE
MEANING OF CHRISTMAS TREES
(An Excerpt)
“Rudy,
a Christmas tree by itself is just a tree.” I set down my colored
pencils and imagined the biggest, brightest tree imaginable. “Each
soul who hangs a bauble from its bough, or threads a string of lights
through its needles, or tops it with a shining star, is teaching it
to sing its own unique song of joy. A Christmas tree, when it’s
finished and all lit up, with lots of presents cuddled underneath,
reflects the magic inside each person who trimmed it.”
I
waited for a scoff while his unblinking gaze confronted me, urging me
to go on, to enlighten him.
“The
tree that you and I create together will expose our very hearts to
the world. No one else will ever be able to duplicate that.” I
leaned forward, tempted to reach for his hand. “Close your eyes,
Rudy. Picture it.”
He
folded his arms and did as I said.
“You
have to really think. See it in your mind’s eye.” I waited again,
giving him space for his tree to flourish. “Now tell me, what’s
in your heart. What does Christmas mean to you?”
He
was quiet. I held my breath, ready for something special, something
magical, to bubble out of him. Goosebumps sprouted up and down my
arms.
Then
he spoke. “I see our grades. They’re threatening to jump off a
tall building if they depend on me buying into all this
’Tis-the-season jazz.” He opened his eyes and grinned.
I
knew he’d never take this seriously.
“You’re
a poo-head! I’m not talking to you anymore.” I swiveled my chair,
only pretending to be angry, when my eyes landed on the picture on
his dresser. I went over and picked it up for a closer look. I
half-waited for him to stop me, but he didn’t. The woman’s eyes
were so much like Rudy’s, I had to ask, “Is this your mother?”
“Uh
huh,” he answered quietly.
“She’s
very pretty.”
“She
was.”
“I’m
sorry.”
“Cancer.
When I was ten.”
Hearing
Rudy’s mother was in heaven made me appreciate never having to
worry about that, since my parents would live forever. But the
sadness overwhelmed me. “What kind of Christmas tree would she want
to see?”
“She’s
in the ground.” His words took on a terseness that made me shudder.
“She’s not watching us from anywhere and there are no such things
as Christmas miracles.”
I’d
obviously opened a door I shouldn’t have. Not knowing how to go
back and close it, I quietly stood his mother’s picture back up on
his dresser. “Maybe we should take that milk-and-cookies break
now,” I said.
“I
was kidding about the milk and cookies.” He got up and tucked his
mother’s picture into a drawer. “Maybe we should call it a
night.”
“If
you say so.” I went back to the desk and carefully slipped my
drawings into their portfolio. “Rudy?”
“What?”
“I
don’t care what you think of me, or my friends, or my family, or my
town. But what exactly do you have against Christmas?”
“It’s
getting late. Why don’t we save this for later.”
My
heart beat faster. I should have gotten out of there. I should have
run. But I couldn’t let it go. “I think you’re here—you and
your father—for a reason. One that you’re not even aware of.”
“Go
home, Candy.”
I
almost melted when I heard him say my name, so softly, so at odds
with the way he said almost everything else. “At least tell me
you’re not one of those people who doesn’t believe in Santa
Claus.”
“I
had dinner with him. Remember?”
We
both smiled. He wasn’t a heretic.
Relieved,
I started packing the rest of my stuff into my backpack.
“I
just happen to think your father’s ideas are ridiculous,” he
added.
Our
game went into pause mode.
“What
ideas? Spreading joy to the world?”
“What
do you know about the world?” he snapped. “You live up here in a
fantasy land, and once a year, your old man flies around the globe
handing out toys—‘One for you, and one for you, and one for
you.’—as if an electric train set could make up for all the wars
and death and misery people suffer in the real world.” He hovered
over me, his words so forceful. His hot breath hit me like a right
hook with every disgruntled thought he threw at me. “I have news
for you, princess. The world doesn’t work that way.”
He
made me scared and confused and curious all at once. “What do
electric trains have to do with suffering and death?”
He
didn’t answer. Whatever he’d been ranting about, clearly he
hadn’t meant to direct his anger at me. For in another five
seconds, he was almost certain to make a pass.
DISCLAIMER: I was not compensated.
This sounds really cute!
ReplyDeleteHi Freda! This was my favorite excerpt from the book. Thanks so much for letting me share it with your readers on this tour stop. xoxo
ReplyDelete