by Caleb Huett
Celia clicked off the TV from behind me. “I’m tired of hearing her voice.”
My mom called from the other side of our office through teeth clamped around bobby pins. “We need to focus, anyway. Bring your sister over here so we can use her head.”
I picked up Polly, who had been watching the TV with me, and walked her over to my mom.
“Why do I always have to be the model?” she whined.
“ ’Cause you’ve got a big head,” I teased. She stuck her tongue out at me.
“Let’s talk about clothes.” My mom spread out some sketches and designs on a table in front of us, along with a pile of blank sheets of grid paper. “Ollie already knows a lot of this; design is one of his strong suits.”
Celia groaned at the pun. I giggled.
“As you know, there are two major parts of fashion: form, which is basically looks, and function, which is what the outfit can do.” My mom gestured to Celia’s clothes: a lab coat and goggles over a green shirt tucked into cargo pants that were a slightly different green. “Celia needs help with form, while Ollie …” She turned to me. I was wearing striped tights and shiny wooden shoes under a long blue tunic. It was very adorable.
“Ollie doesn’t even have any pockets.” I blushed. “Plus, those shoes will hurt his feet if he’s not careful.”
“He got a blister,” Polly added. “He told me!” I put my hand over her mouth until she licked it to make me let go.
“Why does it matter how our suits look?” Celia asked. “It’s just like all this wasted time on TV. We just need to win the challenges. Why should we care what anyone thinks of us?”
Mom explained, “People want to feel included. Nobody is forced to listen to Santa; they do their jobs because they believe. Talking to them, showing them who you are, helps them believe in you.”
Celia gestured to her outfit. “This is who I am. Dressing like Ollie would be lying.”
Mom shook her head. “You won’t be dressing like Ollie. I’m not trying to change you, just bring out the best version of you.”
Celia frowned but didn’t have an immediate comeback. I was already distracted looking through the sketches Mom had drawn up.
“I’m thinking something with gold leaf,” I began. “I’d have to be gentle with it so it didn’t crack, obviously, but—or, ooh, what about a suit that changes colors based on my mood? Teaching it to recognize emotions would take a lot of time, but it would be so dramatic! Or what if it had huge feathered wings on the back, like, twice my size? That would be impressive—”
“This is why it’s lucky you’re working together.” My mom handed each of us pencils and blank sheets of gridded paper. “I’m going to help you design each other’s suits.”
Celia and I looked at each other and thought about this.
I had to admit, “This is a good idea.”
Celia frowned. “It’s a very good idea.”
“That’s why I’m the best.” Mom tapped her fingernails on the paper. “Get to work.”
I started scribbling furiously. Making something for my friend was a lot more exciting than making something for myself, but it was a much more difficult challenge. I had to consider what Celia would like, but also something that showed my strengths, too.
“But, Mom, Celia is a scientist. A genius scientist.” I was having lots of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough. “How am I going to make something for her that’s any better than what she can make for herself?”
She ruffled my hair and pulled up on a chair next to me. She shuffled some of my papers around and pointed at one of my doodles: basically a suit of armor with a Santa hat on top.
“That idea was stupid. It’s too bulky.”
“No idea is stupid.” She ripped the picture out of the paper and set it next to another one of my doodles I had drawn in a moment of frustration: just a laptop strapped to Celia’s head like a hat.
“That one’s even worse. I drew it as a joke!”
Mom ripped that one out, too, and set both of the designs next to a third design. I had covered an entire Santa suit in pockets, like Celia’s cargo shorts. It would probably just make her look like a toad, though.
“That one’s ugly. And just having pockets isn’t very useful.”
She set all three of my designs beside each other, and pointed. “Why did you make each of these?”
“Uh, I made the armor because I know Celia would want something to be protective. And the reason she likes cargo shorts is so she can put her gadgets in all the pockets. One time she told me, ‘I like to have the best tool for the job, so I make sure I always have every tool.’ That’s why I made the pocket design. The computer one was really just a joke because—
“Wait a second!” I cut myself off and pulled a new sheet of paper over next to those three designs. “So it needs to be tough, of course, and it needs to have places for all of Celia’s things. But that doesn’t necessarily have to be pockets, right?”
My mom’s smile grew big. “What are you thinking?”
“Armor. But not like a full suit of armor, more like body-sized, with gadgets built in. And maybe a computer that lets her use all the different tricks—like a superhero suit!” I started sketching out ideas. “If the gadgets are part of the armor, then it doesn’t need pockets, and I can still make it look one hundred percent so very amazing.”
Mom clapped me on the shoulders and kissed the top of my head. “You got it. Get some designs together, and let’s get started.”
Even with almost a whole month I felt rushed. Celia and I had to balance making these suits, doing public appearances, and working at the Games & Puzzles department. Our workload was a little smaller than normal because everyone knew we were competing, but Christmas couldn’t be put on hold! By the last week, everything was running together: I accidentally made a Big Red Suit for a superhero action figure, showed up for an interview on NPNN half-dressed, and kept checking to make sure my mic was on when my dad asked me what I wanted for breakfast.
We had to keep our designs secret from each other, which was half the fun. Celia, in particular, was very nervous about what I was making, and kept trying to find excuses to sneak into my room, like:
“I just need to borrow one of your stuffed animals.”
I peeked through a very slim crack in the door. “Oh, really? No other reason?”
She shrugged. “I’m kind of bored sleeping with mine, and you have so many.”
“Which one do you want?”
She paused. “Uh, my favorite is the leopard. Or if not the leopard, then maybe the snow leopard.”
“Great! Then I’ll just get it for you.” I tossed the snow leopard out (it landed with a squeak) and shut the door.
I was nervous, too, but if Mom was coaching Celia as much as she was coaching me, then everything would be fine. She kept crossing out my sketches in red pen and writing things like Unnecessary or Cute, but you can do better. Seeing all those red lines could be tough, but I knew she was trying to help me, so I listened.
When we had finally finished, Celia and I presented in the living room with my mom, my dad, and Polly as our audience. I went first.
“For Celia’s Big Red Suit, I’ve gone pretty nontraditional. Other than the hat, the only thing I’ve kept from the original Santa design is the color scheme.” I ripped a sheet off the mannequin with a flourish, presenting the red-and-white suit I built. “The base is a very tough fabric—the same kind of thing in our suits from the first challenge—but it’s bulkier because I’ve modified it a lot. There’s a lot of stuff going on in it, but I’ll focus on the major points.”
I took the gloves off the mannequin and put them on my hands. “Everything the suit does is activated by specific hand gestures I can show you.” I waved my hands like I was fanning myself and a soft whirring noise came from the suit, like a fan. I put my hands to my shoulders like I was shivering, and the whirring noise shifted to a low vibrating sound. “It’s got air-conditioning, so you’ll
never be too hot or too cold.”
I pushed my palms down toward the ground like I was imitating a penguin. Super-concentrated air shot out of the armholes and legholes of the suit and lifted the mannequin off the ground. I tilted my hands, and the mannequin shifted forward and back, then I gently lowered my hands flat against my legs, and it gently settled on the ground. Everybody clapped.
“And now … Polly, could you get the lights?”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t wanna.”
“Polly, why do you have to be so three all the time?”
My dad shook his head. “You can get the light yourself, Ollie. You’re already standing up.”
“But it’ll ruin the moment!”
“I can get the light!” Celia offered.
“No, Celia, let Ollie do it. He shouldn’t order his sister around like that.”
I groaned and trudged all the way across the living room to flip the light switch. Then I twisted my left hand like I was screwing in a lightbulb, and the whole room lit up with bright white light. The lining of the suit—all the white parts, including the gloves and the ball at the end of the hat—were lit up. I twisted my hand back and forth to show that I could dim and brighten the light however I wanted.
I flicked the light switch back on. “The hat can be pulled over your head and tightened to be used as an air filter, in case you get somewhere with dangerous air, and it’s got its own oxygen, in case you end up underwater. You can tighten it to seal around your neck. That’s all the big stuff.”
Celia was already up and inspecting it. “There isn’t any room for carrying extra stuff, though.”
“This small pack attached to the back can build small tools for you on the fly! For example, if you need a hammer …” I made a hammering motion with my left hand, then reached around the back of the suit to where a hammer was moving out of a hole in the top. I pushed it back in through the side, then did the same with a screwdriver twist.
“It only has enough material to make one or maybe two at a time, but it can handle most of the small stuff you need. That way you won’t have to keep track of where everything is!”
Celia nodded. “Awesome. My turn!” She tossed the sheet off of her mannequin as well, revealing a skintight black bodysuit, like a diver’s suit, with a red belt around the middle and a hat on top. That was it.
“Honestly, this one might be best if I just show you how it works.” She unclipped the belt and wrapped it around her waist. “The bodysuit is there for protection, but this is the real suit.” She pressed the buckle and struck a pose like she was ballroom dancing. The red fabric of the belt billowed out and stretched, wrapping around her other clothes into a red gown. She shifted like she was punching, and the red shifted and shrunk into a tighter-fitting tank top and shorts, like for exercising.
“The poses help, but they aren’t technically necessary. The suit picks up on what you’re visualizing and changes to look like whatever you want. It can be almost anything you can imagine, as long as that thing is connected to your body.” She shifted it through a few more forms; the suit could even change your shoes! “It can expand to way bigger than it looks, but there is a limit, so don’t go too crazy.”
“Does everything always have to be this one shade of red?” I asked, poking at the stretchy fabric.
Celia grinned. “I knew you would ask.” She furrowed her brow with intense focus, and a ripple of blue spread through the suit from her neck until the whole outfit had changed color. She shifted it to green, then to yellow, then a cheetah print.
“It has a light-up setting, too!” I saw her shift her focus again, and the suit glowed with a dim light.
My mouth fell open. “How does it do that?”
“Nanobots, a little receiver that interprets your thoughts. Basic fashion stuff.”
“Oh, so now you’re a big-time fashion expert, huh?”
She shrugged. “It turns out fashion is basically science.”
My parents both clapped, but quietly, because Polly had fallen asleep in my dad’s lap.
“You’ve done an amazing job. These suits are some of the best things I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been in this business for a long time. Your transforming outfit might put me out of a job!” She winked at Celia. “For now, though, it’s late, and you need to rest.”
My dad picked Polly up and gave me and Celia a hug. “Good luck, kiddos.”
Celia unclipped her belt and put it back on the mannequin. I took off my gloves and did the same. We stared at our suits while our parents went to bed.
“I can’t believe the trial is tomorrow,” Celia said finally. “What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t need to.” I wiggled the mannequin’s fingers and made the suit light up again. “I just know we’re gonna win.”
The next trial wasn’t actually just one trial: It was seven. One for every day of the week. On the first day, the eleven remaining contestants all crammed into one of The Workshop’s conference rooms. An elf passed out a paper with all the challenges we’d have to endure using our Big Red Suits.
This was an overwhelming amount of information. Was the cookies one an eating challenge? What would we do in the rodeo? North Pole Idol sounded fun, though, and so did the one about gingerbread houses. And the last one—what did that even mean?
“This is ridiculous.” Klaus had his feet propped up on the conference table. His suit looked the most like a traditional Kris Kringle outfit—except for the shoes, which had little heels to make him seem taller than he actually was. “Singing? Dancing? What does this have to do with being Santa?”
“What’s the problem, bro?” Kurt was leaning against a wall in his normal clothes, all black with one of his I Don’t Care Who Wins shirts. The back of his leather jacket said THIS IS MY BIG RED SUIT. He did a few body rolls in Klaus’s direction. “Don’t got the moves?”
“This is not about my ‘moves.’ It’s about how this whole circus is ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous, ridiculous, ridiculous.” Sally crossed her arms and kicked Klaus’s chair so he had to quickly adjust to keep from falling on the ground. “Do you hear yourself?” Her Big Red Suit looked like it was nothing more than dirty red cloth lazily stitched together. She was still trying to lose.
“I just don’t think my moves have anything to do with my ability to lead a city.”
“Well, I’m all for it!” Ramp’s grumbly voice came from across the table. He looked like an old-timey prospector with suspenders hiking his pants up to his chest and a wide-brimmed hat. A small fan dangled off the brim and blew on his face. “I know all the hip dances, like the ‘fox-trot,’ or the ‘Charleston,’ or the ‘electric slide.’ And I’ve got my eye on those cookies.”
A kid about my age wearing a beige sweater over his Big Red Suit nudged me. He looked kind of familiar, but I couldn’t place from where. How have I never seen him before?
“Ramp is really old, right, Ollie?” the kid whispered to me. “It seems like he’s definitely really old.”
How does he know my name? Oh gosh, uh, I don’t have any idea who he is. But I guess he’s a competitor? Gotta play it cool.
“Uh, yeah, my pal,” I whispered back. So far so good. “I think that’s probably true, and also I totally know your name.” Mayday! Mayday!
“That’s a relief.” The kid smiled and patted my shoulder. “Nobody else seems to even remember me. Maria said I wasn’t a ‘good enough character,’ whatever that means, so she didn’t put me on TV at all.”
When he shifted away in his chair, Celia leaned over to my ear on the other side. “Who was that?”
I shrugged. “I guess we can’t keep track of everybody.”
The elf cleared his throat. “Now, if you’ll please wait here, there is someone who wishes to speak to you. He’ll be here shortly.”
The elf left, and the eleven of us sat in silence, looking around at each other awkwardly. Kurt broke the silence by saying something to Sally, Andrea said
something to Klaus, and then Celia started talking to Buzz. Gadzooks walked over and pointed at my shirt.
“How gracious of you to keep track of my little friend.” Gadzooks bowed her head. A dove wriggled out of my collar and flapped onto Gadzooks’s finger.
“That … that’s the bird from the race.” I blinked at it. “That’s the one that was in my shirt that whole time.”
“Quite a long time, in fact.” Gadzooks grinned at me with all her teeth. She lifted her top hat—which was covered in puff balls to match the rest of her Big Red Suit—and the dove flew into it, disappearing completely.
“But it couldn’t have still been there. I haven’t seen it in weeks!”
Gadzooks lifted both palms up and shook her head. “I don’t know what to tell you, my friend. He’s been there since the race.”
“This isn’t even the same shirt!”
But she was already walking away. Behind her, I noticed Frank Fae in the corner with no one to talk to. It must be hard to lose both of your brothers.
“Hey, Frank!” I started to lift out of the chair, but I pushed my feet off wrong and just ended up spinning it around in a circle. My feet were too short to reach the floor, so I couldn’t stop it and just pushed myself out onto the floor. I felt too embarrassed to stand up, so I rolled the rest of the way to the corner. I stared up at Frank. “I wanted to apologize. For knocking your brothers out of the race.”
“Don’tevenworryaboutit,” she said, like it was all one word. “Ya did us a favor.”
I pushed up onto my arms and tilted my head. “What do you mean?”
“We woulda had to fight each other at this point, ya know? Ya saved me from havin’ to punch ’em in the butt.”
“In the butt?”
“Right in the butt.” She punched the air to demonstrate. “Just like that.”
“Oh.”
She scratched at a bright red rash on her neck. “This suit’s itched me all over. You got any lotion or anythin’?” Her suit was shiny—like it was made of plastic—but then there were also patches that looked scratchy, like wool. Not a comfortable combination.