Selfish Elf Wish

by Heather Swain

  “All right, all right. Try this one,” Timber says. “If you had a workshop and wanted to make toys for all the children in the world, who would you hire to help you?”

  “Now you’re being plain weird,” I say, annoyed.

  “No come on,” Kenji says. “It’s a legitimate question.”

  “How is that a legitimate question? ” I ask. “First off, who’s going to make toys for all the children in the world? And second, what’s that have to do with the dog sleds and the Arctic?” They both blink at me. I think for a moment, then I stop and chuckle. “Oh, I get it. Very funny.”

  “What?” Briar asks. “I don’t get it at all.”

  “They’re talking about Santa Claus,” I say, thinking back to the reading I did online about how erdlers celebrate Christmas.

  Briar thinks about this. “Ohhhh,” she says. “Right, lives at the North Pole, drives a sleigh, makes toys.”

  “Now you can answer the question,” says Kenji. “You got the first one right: Santa lives at the North Pole.”

  “And what kind of animals pull his sleigh?” Timber asks.

  Briar and I look at each other. I think about the pictures I saw of Santa’s sleigh. “Um, elk?” I say, which makes Timber and Kenji snicker.

  “No, no. Moose!” Briar says. The guys nearly fall out of their seats laughing at us.

  Kenji catches his breath and says, “Reindeer. Santa and his reindeer.”

  “Right, reindeer,” we say, nodding.

  “And who helps Santa make all the toys?” Timber asks.

  Briar and I shrug. I run through my limited knowledge about this erdler holiday. I know Santa wears a red suit because I keep seeing him on billboards and in shop windows everywhere I go. And I guess he likes to drink cola.

  “Penguins?” Briar guesses.

  “Dude,” Kenji says, shaking his head.

  “You should know this,” Timber says to me, but I’m drawing a blank. “Elves,” he finally says.

  Slowly, Briar and I turn away from Timber and Kenji. She takes my hand and we stare at each other. If my face is as white as hers and if her eyes are as big as mine, then we must look like two snow owls right now. I wish my magic was strong enough to get inside her mind, but I can’t, so we stare at each other, wondering why they’re bringing up elves. Do they know? Did our family give it away last night? Is that why they’re being so strange today? And the biggest question of all: where are they taking us? I squeeze Briar’s hand. She squeezes back.

  “Hey, guys.” Timber taps me on the shoulder. “What’s wrong over there? Don’t you remember the story about my grandfather’s friend Bunny Woolen?”

  The color comes back into Briar’s cheeks and my hearts slows down. “Oh right,” I say. “That was a showstopper last night.”

  “Yeah, what was up with that?” Timber asks. “Your whole family went dead silent.”

  “Guess we were just curious,” I say.

  “Yeah,” says Briar. “So tell us everything you know about elves?” Now it’s our turn to swallow our laughter.

  “I don’t know,” says Timber. “Guess they’re good at making things.”

  “Do they hunt?” Briar asks.

  Kenji raises an eyebrow. “No. What would they hunt?”

  “Reindeer,” Briar says. “To eat.”

  Timber and Kenji both look horrified. I have to press my hand over my mouth to keep from snorting.

  “Santa’s elves don’t shoot his reindeer!” Timber says with a shiver. “Now you’re getting creepy.”

  “And the idea of a fat guy in a red suit who comes into your house while everyone is asleep isn’t creepy?” I ask.

  “When you put it that way ...” Kenji says, looking horrified.

  “But wait,” I say. “What’s this have to do with the surprise?”

  “Remember last night when you said you’d never sat on Santa’s lap?” Timber asks.

  “I didn’t say that, you did,” I point out.

  “Yeah, but I was right, wasn’t I?” Timber asks.

  “I guess so,” I say with a shrug.

  “We’re taking you to see the man himself,” Timber says.

  “What man?” Briar asks.

  “The fat guy in the red suit,” says Kenji.

  “I thought you said he lives in the North Pole,” Briar says.

  “And he’s made up,” I point out.

  “Dang,” says Timber, hanging his head and laughing. “Sometimes hanging out with you is like ...”

  “Like what?” I ask, my fist on my hip.

  “Easy there.” He pats my leg. “I was going to say like hanging out with foreign exchange students.”

  “From Mars,” Kenji adds.

  “Hey!” Briar punches him on the arm.

  “Seriously,” Kenji says, rubbing his shoulder. “Even a foreign exchange student would know that Santa’s elves don’t kill and eat the reindeer.”

  Timber pops up from his seat as the train pulls into a station. “This is our stop,” he says.

  “Herald Square?” Briar reads from the sign on the platform as we step out of the train. “This ain’t the North Pole, honey.”

  “You don’t have a bow and arrow hiding in your coat somewhere, do you?” Timber asks, patting me down.

  “Maybe,” I tease. “Deer meat is awfully tasty.”

  He shakes his head as we climb the stairs. “Don’t take down Rudolph, whatever you do. Santa needs him.”

  Briar and I follow Timber and Kenji out to the crowded midtown sidewalk. Even though I’ve been in New York for a few months now, I can’t get used to seeing erdlers swarm like ants. They come from every direction, moving in droves, looking ahead but not seeing what’s right in front of them. The swarm parts to go around a man standing on the sidewalk in a long black coat, ringing a red bell. They come together again on the other side, swallowing him like a rock in a stream. The people are all shapes, colors, and sizes in puffy coats, scarves, hats, and gloves. Most carry bags. Many have on earphones or talk on cell phones, but few talk to one another. I grip Timber’s sleeve and look over my shoulder to make sure Briar is with us. She clings to Kenji’s arm, like a caterpillar on a leaf during a thunderstorm.

  At the street corner, four police officers in blue caps stand in the intersection blowing whistles and waving cars through as people spill off the curbs, eager for their turn to cross.

  “What are all these people doing here?” I ask Timber.

  He slips his arm around my shoulder and keeps me close against his body. “This is the busiest shopping day of the year,” he says.

  “What could they possibly need to buy?”

  He looks down at me and cocks his head to one side. “Presents,” he says simply.

  The cops’ whistles shriek and we surge forward with the crowd into the street, over a steaming manhole cover, and onto the equally packed sidewalk on the other side.

  “Here it is,” Timber says, pointing up.

  I raise my head to see a huge brown and beige brick building with hundreds of windows all lined with twinkling lights. On one corner of the building hangs an enormous red banner with a large white star and the word MACY’S on one side and WORLD’S LARGEST DEPARTMENT STORE on the other.

  “Oh right!” I say, remembering what his mom said last night. “This is where you can visit Santa Claus.”

  He nods. “Every year.”

  Kenji and Briar have made it across the street now. Briar gawks at the building, the lights, the people just like I do. “Ready to go in?” Kenji asks. We both nod, although to tell the truth, I’d rather duck back down into the subway to escape everyone pushing by us.

  We go in through revolving doors, which I have to admit are pretty fun. I could stay spinning in those doors for at least an hour, but of course, I follow my friends inside. Then I’m glad I did.

  The first thing that hits me is the smell. It’s powerfully sweet and a little bit musky, like girls who sweep by me at school. I smell roses, pine trees, va
nilla, nutmeg, coffee, and rain.

  “Wow!” Briar says, looking up, spinning around, taking in all the sparkling lights and shiny decorations wound around cases and cases of jewelry, handbags, scarves, makeup, stockings, and probably everything else anyone would ever want to buy. “It’s gorgie!”

  “Look, pine trees!” I squeal, and point to a long row of Douglas firs lined up across the middle of the floor. “How do they get them to grow inside?” Each is more elaborate than the next, with tiny lights and silver bows and red shiny balls hanging from their branches. Then I realize what a doofus I must sound like. “Oh right,” I mumble. “They’re Christmas trees.”

  “Come on.” Timber laughs at us and tugs on my hand. “Let’s go upstairs. The line is probably ten miles long.”

  “That’s your idea of an elf?” I ask Timber as we join the long twisty line to Santa’s workshop. Briar and I look at each other and lose it laughing. The “elves” all wear oversize green smocks, red puffy pants, black boots, and long red and green velvet hats that jingle when they walk. What’s even funnier is they’re all different. Some of them are tall, some short, some chubby, some thin. There are white elves with brown hair and brown elves with black hair. There’s even a black elf with blond hair twisted into braids. There are men, there are women. Some are old. Some are young. But none of them look like actual elves.

  “I thought you said they were small,” Briar says to Kenji.

  “These guys are just out-of-work actors,” Kenji says. “Real elves are small.”

  “Real elves?” I say.

  “You don’t believe in elves?” Timber asks.

  “I didn’t say that.” I wink at Briar.

  A little girl about Bramble’s age turns around to say, “They are real, you know.” Her brown hair is pulled in two pigtails, and she’s missing a front tooth. Her mother glances over her shoulder and gives me a worried look. I smile.

  “Of course they’re real,” I tell the girl.

  “But they won’t make you any presents if you’re bad,” the girl says.

  “That elf has a present for you,” Briar tells the girl, pointing to a big brown-haired guy in a smock strolling our way. Briar grins, one eyebrow cocked, the corner of her mouth twitching. My stomach tightens. “Ask him to look inside his hat,” she says to the girl. When everyone turns toward the “elf” walking our way I see Briar’s lips moving as she flicks her fingers at the “elf’s” head.

  “Stop,” I hiss at her, but she ignores me.

  The little girl reaches out and tugs on the “elf’s’” smock. “Hey, do you have a present for me in your hat?”

  The “elf” smiles, bewildered. “I don’t think so,” he says, but being a good sport he takes off his hat to look inside. A butterfly flutters out and everyone oohs and aahs. The “elf” jumps back. “What the hey?” he says, tossing his cap to the floor.

  My grandmother says Briar has a gift for magic if she’d ever choose to use it correctly. It would take me years to learn to conjure up a live animal like that, so I’m not strong enough to counter Briar now. With her coat slung over her arm and everyone’s eyes on the butterfly, Briar surreptitiously points to it, catching it in her spell, and flies it to the girl, where it perches for a moment on her nose. The girl squeals happily but stays still. Then Briar blows and the butterfly takes off, flapping up and away toward red poinsettias on the roof of Santaland.

  “Hey!” the girl says. “Where’d it go?”

  “I guess it flew away,” says Briar.

  “That’s not a real present then,” the girl says, and stamps her foot. Her mother glares at the brown-haired “elf” who’s turning his hat inside out.

  “Tough crowd,” Briar mutters.

  “How’d you know he had it in there?” Kenji asks Bri.

  She shrugs. “I saw him put it there a few minutes ago. I thought it’d be fun to mess with him.”

  “Cool,” Kenji says, smiling.

  He might think my cousin’s cool, but I’m furious with her. After the other night in Red Hook I can’t believe she’d pull this. The line moves forward and I step close, grabbing her arm. “Don’t do that again,” I whisper in her ear. “Or I’ll tell Grove and you’ll be in deep trouble.”

  “You’re a good one to talk, Miss Frog-in-the-throat.”

  “That wasn’t in public,” I hiss.

  “It was in front of them,” she motions to Kenji and Timber, then she shrugs me off. “Hey look,” she says, pointing to a display. “Ice-skating polar bears and a singing tree.”

  It takes an hour to get through Santaland and have our picture taken with the man himself. Timber and Kenji try to make us laugh, but I’m fuming the entire way. When we exit and get our photo, Timber holds it out and says, “You look pissed, Zeph.”

  Briar grabs it. “Like she’s going to shoot one of Santa’s reindeer.”

  I snatch the photo from her. “Shut up.”

  “Touchy!” Briar backs away from me.

  The little girl who’d been in front of us earlier comes out with her mom. “But I want my butterfly!” she cries.

  “It was a trick,” her mom says. “A joke or something. You can’t really have it.”

  Tears stream down the girl’s face. “Santa’s elves are mean.”

  I look at Briar. “Happy?”

  “Want me to fix it?” She wiggles her pointer finger.

  I step closer. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Fine,” she says, and walks away.

  “Hey,” says Kenji, obviously trying to keep the peace. “You guys want to go get some Korean barbecue?”

  Briar stops. “I’m up for anything.”

  I look over at Timber, but he’s on the phone, so I just shrug.

  “I know a great place really close to here,” Kenji tells us. “We can get bibimbap and kimchee, some scallion pancakes.”

  “I’ve never had any of that,” Briar says, draping herself over Kenji, who’s a full head shorter than she is. He stands stiff, hands in pockets, blushing slightly. I can’t figure out if he’s like that because he likes Briar as more than a friend or if he’s mortified by her hanging on him.

  Timber slips his phone in his pocket and joins us. “Sorry about that.”

  “Was it Ari?” I ask. “He said he might meet us later.”

  Timber shakes his head. “We going to get some lunch? Go for some Korean Q?” He rubs his hands together.

  “Follow me,” Kenji says, and we do.

  At Kum Gang San, we fill our plates with three kinds of spicy pickled cabbage, tiny smoked fish with chilis, and marinated mushrooms sprinkled with tiny sesame seeds. My mouth’s on fire but I can’t stop eating, especially when the waitress sets a sizzling iron pot with rice, veggies, and a raw egg in front of me.

  “That’s the bibimbap,” Kenji tells me as he uses chopsticks to flip over beef searing on the grill in the center of our table. “Mix it with that sauce and some chili paste.”

  I do what he says and listen to the rice crackle at the bottom of the hot pot. Timber’s food goes untouched because he’s on his second call since we sat down to eat. This time he looks agitated, pacing by the coat racks.

  Kenji focuses on the meat until Timber comes back to the table, then he asks, “You guys want to see a movie after this?”

  Timber grimaces. “I don’t think I can.”

  “I thought we were all hanging out tonight,” I say, disappointed.

  “Sorry. I have to go back to Brooklyn,” he says.

  I scoop up a bunch of rice on my chopsticks. “Is everything okay?” I ask, then I take a big bite of the smoky, sweet, spicy food.

  “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that ...” He trails off and plucks some meat from the grill. “Bella thinks we should run lines this weekend before rehearsals on Monday. Today is the only time I can do it because I have plans with my mom tomorrow.”

  I swallow hard. The rice sticks in my throat and I choke. Briar hits my back and hands me a glass of water. “Here,�
� she says. “Are you okay?”

  “Mr. Padgett gave Bella a key so we can meet at school,” Timber says.

  Now I choke on my water and almost spit it on the table.

  “Are you going to be mad if I don’t go to the movie with you guys?” Timber asks.

  “Why would we be mad?” I ask after gulping more water. “You’re free to do whatever you want.” Briar gives me a pitying look, and even though I’m still really annoyed with her, I’m glad she’s here with me.

  “I’d rather be at the movies with you guys,” Timber says. “But Bella’s right. Mr. Padgett took way too long to go through this whole stupid audition thing and now we’ve barely got time to get the first act together and I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

  I stab a piece of meat and dip it in the hot sauce. “So go, then. We’re not in charge of you.”

  “Okay,” he says, picking at his rice. “I will.”

  I pop the meat in my mouth. “Fine,” I say, my eyes watering from the chilis.

  chapter 9

  FRESH SNOW HAS fallen like a clean white sheet over Prospect Park while we were on the train back to Brooklyn. New York feels almost cozy when it snows. People come out, bundled up and smiling, dragging kids on sleds. The sound of laughing and happy shouts replace rumbling cars and belching buses. By the time Kenji, Briar, and I get off the train, people have filled the park. They cross-country ski across the hidden ball diamonds and soccer fields, sled down the hills, throw snowballs, and build snowmen. Briar grabs my hand. “Come on!” she says, tugging me toward the snowy meadow.

  I hang back on the slushy sidewalk. “I’m not really in the mood.”

  Instead of letting me go, Briar holds my hand and wraps her other arm around my shoulders. “Poor you,” she says, giving me a hug. This is when it’s great to have Briar with me. No matter how mad I can get at her, she always makes it up to me. When I said I didn’t feel like going to the movie after Timber left the restaurant, she said she didn’t either. When I said I wanted to go home, she said she did, too. “I wouldn’t be able to stand it,” Briar says. “I’d have to turn her into a toad.”