by Caleb Huett
“HELLO, OLLIE. A PLEASURE TO HORSE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE.”
“No way!” I put my hands on either side of horse’s head and kissed her on the nose. “I missed you, Horse.”
“Actually, now, she’s H.O.R.S.E.,” Celia said. “She’s completely connected to every part of the sleigh and can answer any questions you have while you’re flying. She’s got protocols to protect you if things get really dangerous. There are a few other features, too, which you probably won’t ever have to use. She’ll tell you about them if they come up.”
“I AM PROGRAMMED FOR OVER HORSE MILLION POTENTIAL HIGH-PRESSURE SITUATIONS,” H.O.R.S.E. whinnied.
Celia leaned against her sleigh, tugging on the tarp a little. I suddenly realized her sleigh looked a lot bigger than mine. Like twice the size.
“The engine’s the best part.”
“You said H.O.R.S.E. was the best part.”
“I lied.” She whipped the tarp off of her sleigh (before I had the chance to argue) and tied it around her neck like a cape. “I’m the engine.”
Her sleigh was the opposite of mine in every way. Instead of small, sleek, and cute, it was huge and unpainted with pipes and gears sticking out all over the place. The seat in front was barely a seat, and there was an opening where an elf could crawl directly into the sleigh and mess with the engine from the inside.
“Your sleigh has slots on the side I can hook my sleigh into. Yours has its own engine, of course, but most of your energy is devoted to being a good command center. My reindeer and I will be completely connected to you all the time, but I’ll mostly be doing active maintenance on this absolutely nutso and bonkers engine I’ve built. It’s very powerful, and very awesome, but unstable.”
“That sounds dangerous. Why use it?”
“Because it’s crazy amazing and the coolest thing I’ve ever made, no contest. You’ll see when it’s running.”
“Are they gonna let us link up like that?”
“Nothing in the letter said that two racers who happen to have parts that link up couldn’t accidentally become one perfect sleigh. The letter also doesn’t go on to say we can’t have all of our reindeer on one radio channel just in case something that crazy and impossible happened.”
Crazy and impossible … that sounded about right.
“Please speak into the microphone.” Maria Duende had her smile plastered on big, and it looked even bigger on the big screen. “They can’t hear you if you don’t speak into the microphone.”
The camera switched over to Buzz, who was standing in front of his sleigh and trying to figure out what to do with his hands. For now he had settled for putting one on his hip and one behind his head, like he was posing for a magazine.
“Is that, uh, is that this thing they put on my shirt?” Buzz glanced between Maria and the camera, obviously uncomfortable.
“Yes.” Maria had very white teeth.
“I think her smile actually gets bigger when she’s unhappy,” Celia whispered to me. When we realized Maria was looking for interviews, we decided to hide in the crowd to watch them on the big screen instead of being forced to talk about ourselves. A kid in a beige sweater turned around to shush us. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place from where.
“I’m, uh, Buzz Brownie.” Buzz was now forcing his chin down into a weird position, to try to talk as directly into the microphone as possible. “Is this better?”
Maria gave one quick, sharp laugh. “It isn’t worse. Tell us about your sleigh.”
“Sure thing.” The camera panned out to show that he was standing in front of a big metal machine at least twice his height. Buzz took the hand from behind his head and reached back to touch the sleigh but was farther away from it than he realized and tripped. He caught himself on the sleigh and patted it twice like it was what he’d meant to do.
“My baby’s got a fifteen reindeer-power engine, carbon fiber interior, suspension for days—you know about suspension?”
“No, please explain.”
“It’s super important, and I have a lot of it.”
I thought I saw Maria’s eye twitch. “And could you tell me about these?” She gestured to four huge wheels under his sleigh.
“These are circular treads of my own design, so it can cover more ground. And here on the back …” The camera followed him as he ran his hand along the side to four big rocket boosters on the back. “These’ll get you off the ground in seconds. You’ve never seen a sleigh like this one, I can promise you that. I’m gonna win this competition, and none of those dorks are gonna stand in my way.” He winked at the camera.
“That’s great. Could you introduce us to your reindeer?”
Buzz frowned, breaking the pose he had been holding. “Oh, I thought we were done.”
“You’ll know we’re done when the red light turns off.” Maria was already leading the camera to the front of the sleigh. A few members of the crowd laughed.
“I’ve got two reindeer.” Buzz pointed to the front of his car, where two big reindeer dummies with painted-on smiles were being held above the ground by wires connected to its grill. “Their names are, uh, Pull … er and Sleigh-er.”
“Slayer?”
“Yep. Puller and Slayer. You got it.” He patted one on the head, and it bounced up and down on its wire, limply. “Good strong names, for strong reindeer. I’m gonna win this competition, and none of those dorks are gonna stand in my way.” He winked at the camera again.
“Still not done. Mr. Brownie, I’m going to cut right to the chase.” Maria made the face she always did when she was about to crack a story wide open. Celia groaned because she hates that face. “How do you respond to comments that your ‘sleigh’ is, in fact, a car?”
Buzz stared at her blankly. “I don’t understand.”
“An anonymous expert recently said, quote, ‘It’s got four wheels, a steering wheel, its own gas-powered engine, and the reindeer are fake. It even looks a lot like a Jeep.’ How do you respond?”
“I don’t have to say anything, because it’s a lie. They’re not wheels, they’re circular sleigh treads.” One of the reindeer’s ears split at the seam. Some stuffing fell out. “See, you hurt Slayer’s feelings.” Buzz pushed at the camera that had come in really close to his face. “I’m here to win, not to answer dumb questions.” He ripped his microphone off and threw it on the ground. Maria quickly started saying something to the camera, but Buzz pushed her out of the way and grabbed her microphone. “Red light OUT!” He winked again at the camera, which didn’t stop rolling for another few seconds.
“These identify your starting positions.” When we arrived at the corner specified in our emails, most of the other contestants were already huddled around a table. Mrs. Claus was speaking very quietly, like always, to force anyone listening into complete silence. “You will bring your sleighs from the warehouse to that spot and await the starting signal. Your reindeer are already waiting. Santa will—”
“Wait, starting signal? Is this a race?” It was Andrea, the girl who told me that Dreamer liked jokes. I needed to warn her that whoever told her lied! “I thought we were just being judged on our sleigh design. I didn’t prepare for a race!”
Mrs. Claus gently smiled at her without opening her mouth, somehow looking very sweet and also definitely telling her she shouldn’t have interrupted. “If your design is sound, it shouldn’t be a problem. Speaking of design, it’s time to talk about your next challenge.” She raised her voice and turned her head to the side. “Bring the car around, please.”
A limousine pulled up on the road behind us, and all the doors opened at once. Ten elves in very stylish suits and sunglasses stepped out and lined up in a neat row. Mrs. Claus parted the crowd and walked in front of them.
“These are the ten top-ranked clothing designers at the North Pole. Only the top ten of you will continue past this competition, and each will be assigned a designer based on your place. That designer will help you with your next challenge: making your own
Big Red Suit.”
“YES!” I yelled loudly—and I was the only one. Celia stifled a giggle, and everyone else turned and looked at me. “Uh, sorry, I … uh …” The more they stared at me, the more nervous I got. I ran out of words, and just finished with a very quiet “!!!”
Celia leaned over and whispered, “Well, now we have to win,” because she was the only one who understood why I was so excited.
The designer at the end of the line pushed down her sunglasses and winked at me. I recognized those eyes. I recognized that suit. I knew that pin she had between her teeth.
The North Pole’s number one clothing designer. Or, as I like to call her:
Mom.
My nerves calmed down a lot even though my heart was pounding. We’re gonna win now, I thought. It’s meant to be.
Mrs. Claus dismissed us, and the crowd started spreading. I left Celia for a second to catch up to Andrea.
“Hey, Andrea!” She turned around and smiled at me.
“Oddie, right? Hi.”
“Close!” I did a little fake laugh but was too nervous and focused to correct her. “Hi. I just wanted to tell you: Someone lied to you about the jokes. Dreamer hated them! He almost made me leave right away.” I put both hands on my cheeks to show how surprised I was then. She put both hands on her cheeks to show how surprised she was right now.
“Oh my gosh.” She knelt down and pulled me into a big hug. I patted her on the back a couple of times because I wasn’t sure what to do. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know—I can’t believe that they—this is a huge surprise that I could never have predicted, but it is my fault, and I am so sorry.”
“It wasn’t that big of a deal, but thank you—”
“No, no, it’s a huge deal. I can’t believe it! I could never forgive myself if I didn’t make it up to you. Here.” Andrea took her backpack off her shoulder and stuck her hand in one of the pockets. A second later, she was clipping a button onto my shirt. It was bright yellow with a smiley face on it. “This is for good luck at the race. My grandma back on the apple orchards always used to tell me, ‘Best way to make sure you have good luck in a race is to wear a button someone else gave you,’ so this definitely makes up for it.”
I was confused. “I’ve never heard that saying before. I don’t think—”
“It’s very real, and I probably shouldn’t even give it to you, because now you’re going to win.” She zipped up her backpack and put it back on. Before I could say anything else, she was jogging away. “See you later, Oldie! It was great talking to you! Don’t take that button off no matter what!”
I walked back over to Celia, who was having a very energetic conversation with Bertrand.
“—but how is that possible?” she was asking him. “The Wish Generator works as well as it does because it’s stuck in one place. How would the wishes even know where to go?”
“It actually works the other way around—as long as you know, in general, where the wishes are coming from, you can tune the sensor to pick up from that area. Kris Kringle just found a way to have it find the wishes on its own.” Bertrand looked really proud of himself. Celia obviously couldn’t believe what he was saying; I still couldn’t understand it.
Bertrand nodded at me, and adjusted his bow tie. “Hello, Ollie! I was just telling Celia about the engine I built for my sleigh.”
“He replicated the Wish Generator, Ollie. And made it portable!” Celia was bubbling over with excitement.
“As long as the driver is consistently making wishes, it should move at a pretty good speed.” Bertrand fidgeted with his hands, which made him look unsure. “But I thought this would be more about building than racing. It’s a prototype, you see, and—”
“Who cares about winning?!” Celia yelled, loud enough that others in the crowd looked up. She lowered her voice back down. “You’ve done something no one else has ever done, Bertrand. You reverse-engineered a Kringle device. Your family has been working to make this happen for centuries.”
“Well, they can keep trying. This is mine.”
After he walked away, Celia lay down on the concrete. “If it was my choice, he’d win Santa right now. That’s amazing.”
“It’s not your choice, though, and we should go get ready!” I grabbed her hand to pull her up, but she acted like deadweight.
“I can’t … I’m too … science …”
I hooked my arms underneath her arms and heaved her up. “We have a race to win.” I started pulling her in the direction we were headed, dragging her heels along the ground.
Five minutes later, she said, “I can’t even believe how science I am right now.”
But I didn’t need her to be science.
I needed her to drive.
Celia and I split to our assigned starting positions and made a plan to meet up on the track as soon as possible. I could see Buzz to my right taking a nap while loud music blared out of his not-sleigh, and Bertrand to my left scribbling on a notepad. I couldn’t see Celia at all, which made me nervous, but since our sleighs were linked by radio, I knew I’d be able to find her.
I was trying to decide which direction Celia was in when I was hit in the chest by antlers.
“How’s it goin’, Ollie?” Crasher’s voice piped out of the reindeer’s voice box. She sniffed at my shirt. “I already told ’em all about how I’m in charge of the team, so ya don’t have to worry. I’m the fastest, I told ’em, and they said, ‘That’s right!’ Well, Snoozer just snored, but he snored in a way that meant ‘That’s right!’ ”
“Snoozer?” I asked. Crasher nodded.
“That’s Snoozer, and that’s Truther.” She pointed her antlers at the two reindeer already hitched up to my sleigh, one of whom was definitely asleep on his feet. The other had a hat made of tinfoil stuck in between her antlers.
“Christmas was invented by aliens,” her voice box chimed. I figured that was Truther.
“Snoozer, wake up!” Crasher yelled. Snoozer flew a few inches into the air and snorted loudly.
“Telephones are a lie.” Truther didn’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular, but she was staring directly at me without blinking.
I definitely hadn’t expected Crasher to be the reindeer I was least nervous about. The perfect reindeer, Dreamer had said. Maybe he did have a sense of humor. I took a deep breath and looked out at the track. As far as I could see, the blinking green lights that lit up the snow and pointed out the path kept me separate from Bertrand and Buzz; it was just a straight line forward until it hit a hole in a huge block of ice jutting out from the ground. There was a hole for every contestant, from what I could tell, with no sign of what happened after you got inside.
“Hey, Ollie, can you hear me?” Celia’s voice came into my earpiece.
Loud and clear! I thought, and then remembered I needed to talk out loud. “Loud and clear!”
“Great. Hopefully the track will let us link up after we get through whatever’s going on with that iceberg. Do you remember that ever being there before?”
“No, and I feel like we would have noticed an ice mountain.”
“It’s never been there before,” Crasher interjected on her headset. “Musta been set up last night.”
“Right. Let’s be careful. Do you see my sleigh popping up on your map?”
I looked at all the screens but didn’t see Celia’s sleigh anywhere. “No. I don’t think my screens are working.”
“Your screens aren’t working?”
“Celia, I don’t think my screens are working is the sleigh broken what do I do?!”
“Try turning the sleigh off and turning it back on.”
I was suddenly very embarrassed. “Oh. That would … be hard.”
“Why?”
“Because I haven’t turned it on yet.” I pushed the power button, and the screens started glowing. The map screen blinked with an O for Ollie and, a little ways away from that, a C for Celia. The hatch in the front opened and H.O.R.S.E. popped her head out.
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“HORSE MORNING,” she said as she powered up.
“Horse morning!” I replied, grinning.
“Horse morning.” A loud BANG came over Celia’s microphone. “Cinnamon sticks!” she swore. “I’ve gotta fix this. The countdown could start any second, so make sure you know how to use the sleigh. H.O.R.S.E. can help you if you have questions.”
Trumpets blared, loud, all around us. Snoozer flew awake again and slammed into Truther, who pushed him back and mumbled something about how cats were going to take over the world. The trumpets stopped, and Santa’s voice boomed around us.
“Contestants ready?”
I panicked. I hadn’t realized it would be this soon. Celia probably hadn’t, either. Could she hear him? Was her sleigh ready?
“Set!”
Okay, that’s the steering wheel and that’s the gas pedal and that’s the—what is that?
“H.O.R.S.E., what is this thing?”
“THAT IS THE HORSE.”
I suddenly realized a fatal flaw in her design.
“Wait, H.O.R.S.E., I need a helmet!”
The seat next to me flung itself open to reveal a helmet inside. I stuck it on and started tightening the strap.
“GO!”
Sleighs started flying forward, but I couldn’t get the helmet strap to click.
“Uh, Captain, I think we should—”
“Safety first, Crasher!”
“No one is safe,” said Truther, not helping.
I finally clicked the strap into place and slammed on the gas. Crasher yelled out loud and flew ahead, tilting left and right to keep us steady between the blinking lights. My steering wheel could suggest movement, but the reindeer had the last call.
“I got started late!” I yelled into my headset over the wind.