“Good afternoon. I had an interview with your boss earlier. I’m calling to find out the result.”
“Last name?”
“Chernenko. He gave me this number and said you’d connect me.”
“Hold on a minute. Let me check,” came the reply, followed by a rustling sound on the other end. Then a beep signaled that the call had been put on hold. After a couple of minutes, a cold, slightly irritated female voice returned. “Sorry, but you’re not a good fit for us.”
The line went dead with a series of short beeps. Again. Who would’ve guessed? Another interview where the hiring manager had solemnly promised to get back to her later, only to deliver yet another rejection. Once more.
Over the past few months of endless job hunting, Nastya should’ve gotten used to this routine, but each rejection still left her stunned, fighting the urge to hurl her phone against the wall. Instead, she peeled the skin off a bright orange mandarin and popped a couple of tangy-sweet segments into her mouth.
Every “no” slowly but persistently planted a fresh seed of frustration, resentment, and self-doubt in her heart. Sure, she genuinely held onto the hope that her dream job was just around the corner, that these were temporary setbacks testing her resilience. But with each rejection, that hope grew fainter.
As it turned out, someone like Nastya—a recent art school grad with no experience straight out of college—wasn’t in demand. The city was full of companies, sure, but landing a decent job with a good salary seemed to require connections. In plain terms, you had to know someone. Neither her parents nor her close acquaintances had any such ties, so she was left to pound the pavement on her own. So far, with little success. And lately, with New Year’s right around the corner, it was especially tough. Who’d want to hire an inexperienced employee during the busiest month of the year? They might be hiring, but they weren’t hiring her.
Tapping her pen against the tabletop, she ruthlessly crossed out the number on her list of potential employers. The last one she had for now.
Well, looks like this year she wouldn’t be seeing a job any more than she’d see her own ears. The calendar read December 23rd. Normal people were getting into the holiday spirit, filled with festive cheer, while her life remained the same chaotic mess it had always been. No decent position, no money, and her personal life? A complete standstill. Her only hope was that the New Year had to bring some positive change—it just had to. But there was a small problem: changes in the New Year were great and all, but she needed money now. Relying on her parents felt downright embarrassing at this point, yet she didn’t see any other option.
A sharp, insistent knock at the door jolted Nastya out of her thoughts. Setting the pen aside, she hurried to the entrance, wondering who it could be. Too early for her parents to be back from work—it was only half past one. Too early for unexpected guests, too. Probably just another solicitor or some religious nut.
Without even glancing through the peephole, she flung the door open, ready to give the intruder a piece of her mind. But instead, she was shoved aside by a whirlwind of energy—her friend Alka, who burst into the apartment looking like a snowman come to life.
Dumping a bunch of bags filled with holiday decorations onto the floor, the curvy, cute brunette kicked off her boots and rattled off, “Hey, Naska! It’s freezing out there! Brr! I’m chilled to the bone. Snow’s coming down like crazy.” She shook the flakes off her jacket hood as she undressed. “I’ve only got ten minutes, just popped in for a quick thing. Why are you just standing there blinking at me?” Hanging her coat on a hanger, she urged, “Hurry up and put the kettle on. Or are you planning to send me back out into the cold like this?”
That was Alka in a nutshell. Always storming in like a tsunami, turning everything upside down for reasons that were never immediately clear. Nastya had been friends with the short-haired brunette since their first year of college, but she still marveled at Alka’s relentless, restless energy.
“No, of course not,” Nastya replied, still reeling from Alka’s unexpected midday appearance. With no other choice, she trudged to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Come on, let’s warm you up. You can tell me what this ‘quick thing’ is all about.”
“Yep, just let me wash my hands.”
While Nastya filled the kettle with water, her friend darted into the bathroom.
A few minutes passed, during which Nastya set out mugs with tea bags, placed a bowl of candies and cookies on the table, and waited for Alka to reappear. When she did, she immediately asked, “So, did that guy from ‘Megapolis’ hire you or what?”
“Stavitsky?”
At the mention of the potential employer, Nastya grimaced in disgust. She wanted to curse the jerk out with every foul word she knew—for putting her through an interrogation worse than the FBI and for not even having the decency to tell her himself why she wasn’t a fit, instead passing her off to some third party. But instead, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and admitted with forced indifference, “Nope, I’m not a good fit for them.”
“What a moron,” Alka said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Not the best place to work anyway, that ‘Megapolis’ of yours. Just some shady outfit where you’d be stuck as a low-level designer for peanuts. You deserve better.”
“Yeah, sure,” Nastya nodded, though in her mind she added a couple of “buts.” First on the list: ‘Megapolis’ wasn’t some shady outfit—it was, in fact, the best advertising agency in the city. And Stavitsky wasn’t a moron; he was actually pretty sharp and reasonable. Not to mention attractive. But whatever. If he was such a moron, then fine!
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work today or something?” Nastya changed the subject, watching as her friend plopped down at the table, grabbed a candy, and devoured it greedily.
Only Alka could, with a figure far from model-thin, scarf down sweets so carelessly without a second thought about the consequences.
“I am at work,” she nodded, still chewing. “But today I’m on a mission hitting up the malls. They sent me to stock up on new costumes for everyone. You know, we’re a serious organization, gotta keep up with the latest trends and follow the season’s vibe. It’s the Year of the White Ox, so last year’s gold outfits just won’t cut it.”
“Quite the honorable mission,” Nastya chuckled, sitting down across from her.
“Don’t I know it,” Alka agreed seriously. “Can you imagine, before this I had to measure everyone to get the right sizes? Some of them have packed on so much weight, it’s unreal. And no one has time to run around shopping themselves—total chaos right now.”
“Seems like it’s always chaos with you guys,” Nastya said, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Truth be told, she’d never taken her friend’s job seriously. Instead of finding something worthwhile in her field, Alka had stumbled upon a listing for staff at a new event agency with the wildly “original” name “Celebration.” And for the past six months, she’d been working there.
The job might be interesting and creative, requiring a good dose of imagination—always coming up with new ideas, brainstorming, and figuring out how to bring them to life. But it felt frivolous and often unstable. The base pay was small, with the rest coming from commission on orders. Still, as far as Nastya knew, Alka hadn’t struggled financially these past six months. There were plenty of wealthy fools ready to shell out big bucks for a one-off party.
“You’re telling me,” Alka grumbled. “Now I totally get why celebrities are always complaining about having no free time right before the holiday corporate party season. Just a couple more days, and it’s gonna be non-stop. Good luck keeping up with entertaining everyone.”
“Still better than being jobless like me.”
“I’m such an idiot!” Alka slapped her forehead. “That’s why I came over! Since you’ve got no more options, you’ve gotta come work with us as a Snow Maiden.”
The proposal hit like a bolt from the blue. The whistle of the kettle boiling a moment later made Nastya jump in her seat from the shock.
Alka had hinted more than once that if Nastya wanted, she’d help her get a gig at “Celebration,” but Nastya always declined, saying event planning wasn’t her thing—she lacked the creativity. Alka would agree for a while, only to bring it up again later. But this was the first time she’d made such a firm, no-nonsense statement.
“Just temporarily,” Alka added reassuringly, noticing the surprise on Nastya’s face.
Getting up, Nastya quickly moved the kettle off the stove. As she poured hot water into the mugs, she muttered, “Alka, you know this isn’t for me. Think about it—what kind of Snow Maiden would I be? I never even played that role in school, and now? You want me to scare off your last few clients?”
“Naska, don’t sell yourself short,” Alka waved her off. “Who cares if you’ve played the part or not? The key is to get into the groove, and the rest will come naturally. Besides, I’m not asking you to be a Snow Maiden full-time. Just for a week, until New Year’s. We’re seriously swamped. It’s only the 23rd, and we’ve got a ton of bookings. We’re short on Snow Maidens, even if we dress up Baba Lyuba.”
Handing Alka her tea, Nastya couldn’t hold back a laugh. Baba Lyuba, as far as she knew, was a seventy-something grandma who came to clean the office every other day. Yeah, that wouldn’t be a Snow Maiden—that’d be a Snow Maiden’s grandma.
“What’s so funny?” Alka pouted, clearly offended. “I’m being serious, you know. We’ve got twice as many Santa Clauses as Snow Maidens. And apparently, people have gotten pickier this year. One Santa isn’t enough—they want a granddaughter, and not just any granddaughter, but a slim, pretty one like you.”
Her friend reached for the bowl again, this time grabbing a cookie.
“You’re not dressing up with the rest of your crew?”
“Nope. I mean, with my figure, where would I fit in? Maybe as a reindeer. Luckily, no one needs reindeer,” she mumbled with a full mouth. “They’ve entrusted me with the most prestigious role of ‘head of logistics.’ Basically, making sure orders are handled on time and dealing with other organizational nonsense.”
Sipping her hot tea, Nastya was genuinely surprised. Usually, Alka preferred being out in the field over organizational work, seizing any chance to dodge paperwork and take on roles like host or idea generator. Yet here she was, easily passing up the opportunity to play a real holiday magician.
Still, she had a point—Snow Maidens were typically pictured with a different build. For Alka to take on such an important role, she’d have needed to start slimming down since last New Year’s.
“Listen, how do I even fit into this?” Nastya tapped her nails on the glass tabletop.
“How? How do you not?” Alka’s eyes widened in surprise. “Naska, come on, please-please! Or would you rather go back to waitressing at some greasy diner?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Nastya snapped irritably, recalling the less-than-pleasant experience of that summer side gig.
“Naska, seriously, we can’t manage without you.”
“No way, don’t even ask,” she said with feigned indifference, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV.
“Naska, come on, Naska!” Alka whined. “They’ll fire me if I don’t bring in a Snow Maiden to replace me.”
“Let them,” Nastya shrugged, flipping through channels in search of something musical. “We’ll look for new jobs together.”
“Wow, you’re so kind, Nastya, I can’t even,” Alka pouted, clearly hurt. “You can’t find anything yourself, and if I start looking too? That’s double the competition. You really want that?”
“At least it’ll be more fun,” Nastya said, biting into a cookie and staring at the screen where another holiday music video was playing. “And I won’t feel so bad.”
“Didn’t someone want to earn some cash for New Year’s?” Alka tried a different angle.
What a strategist!
“Let’s say I do,” Nastya agreed, stopping mid-chew.
“Well, imagine this: in just one week, you’ll make more than you would slaving away in some office for two months!” Alka shifted in her chair, eager to lay out all the perks of the gig. “This isn’t work—it’s pure fun! At every house, they’ll feed you, give you drinks, welcome you with open arms. All you’ve gotta do is play with the kids, lead some circle dances, and hand out gifts. That’s it!”
“I don’t know… I’ve got zero experience.”
“Come on, what experience? Like you’ve never played with kids before. It’s basically the same thing.”
Nastya fell into thought. Really, what did she have to lose? Money was always needed, especially before the biggest holiday of the year. A festive feast, nice outfits… And finally, decent gifts she’d dreamed of buying for her parents, not the usual perfume, socks, or shaving cream. Expenses everywhere, and getting the funds for them without agreeing to her friend’s crazy idea was about as realistic as flying to space.
Plus, going back to her roots, Nastya had dreamed of becoming an actress as a kid, but it never panned out. As she grew up, she realized how impractical and unpromising that career was in their city. Now, here was a chance to live out that childhood dream, to try herself in a different role. Good thing Alka didn’t suggest she play Baba Yaga. And with kids, having a couple of adorable nephews, she seemed to get along just fine.
Alka was right—why pass this up? She was just sitting at home anyway. At least this would be some kind of entertainment.
“And who’d be my partner?”
“Hot damn! That’s my Nastya!” Alka clapped her hands excitedly. “Straight to the point. Alright, let’s see,” she stood up from the table, thinking aloud. “Max is with Karina, Stepan with Anya, Tolik with Natalia… Right now, the guys without partners are Dimka and Petrovich.”
Snorting, Nastya hid her face in her hands. Dimka, though not much older, somehow rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe because he was too sloppy and careless. Or maybe because the few times they’d crossed paths, he’d made awkward attempts to flirt.
Alexei Petrovich, or just Petrovich to everyone who knew him, was a decent enough guy. But as Alka had mentioned, he liked to hit the bottle, and it was a mystery how, at over fifty, he’d ended up in the “Celebration” crew. Still, even with those quirks, he was better than Dimka. Nastya quickly let her friend know her preference.
“Done! Petrovich it is,” Alka nodded. “Out of our guys, he looks the most like Santa Claus. You two will make the perfect team.”
Without another word, Alka jumped up and dashed out of the kitchen. The rustling of bags followed. Nastya thought for a moment that Alka, having gotten what she wanted, was leaving. But just as she was about to follow, the brunette returned, holding a brand-new, bright red Snow Maiden coat in front of her.
“Here.” She handed it to Nastya with a ceremonial air. “Try it on, get ready, start getting into character.”
Nastya took the costume hesitantly, eyeing her friend suspiciously.
“Though, why even try it on? I picked this out just for you. Consider it exclusive. Everyone else gets the standard blue ones, but for you, my best friend, it’s the prettiest—velvet, with embroidery and matching gloves.”
“Isn’t the Ox supposed to be white, though?”
“Well, you’re not the Ox, are you? What’s the difference? You don’t have to be like everyone else.”
“You knew I’d agree, didn’t you?” Nastya frowned disapprovingly.
“I had a hunch,” Alka admitted with a guilty smile, stepping back.
“Al, you know that’s not fair, right?” Nastya snapped, tossing the coat onto a chair.
“I know,” Alka said, glancing at the wall clock and hurrying. “Look, I’ll call you tonight or tomorrow morning, and we’ll figure out what time you should come by ‘Celebration’ to rehearse and get on the same page with Petrovich… I’ve gotta run now. My ten minutes turned into half an hour. They’re gonna kill me at work!”
With that, she quickly pulled on her boots and jacket, grabbed her bags, stuffed some stray tinsel back into one of them, gave Nastya a quick peck on the cheek, and bolted out of the apartment.
What could she even say to that? Absolutely nothing. Nastya had walked right into this crazy scheme herself.
With a resigned sigh, she locked the door from the inside and shuffled back to the kitchen, where her new role for the next week awaited. Slipping on the coat, she noticed it fit like a glove. Walking into the living room, she twirled in front of the mirror. Not bad, actually—pretty cute. She kind of looked like a real Snow Maiden. Probably helped by her fitting appearance: a slim figure, long dark-blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and thick lashes…
Snorting, she muttered to her reflection, “Well, Naska? Congrats. Your long-awaited ‘dream job’ found you all on its own…”