Selfish Elf Wish

by Heather Swain

  “Pretty cool, huh?” Timber slides up behind us.

  Although a little trill goes through my body at the sight of his blue eyes under a black knit cap, I can’t help but shake my head. “Trees belong in the forest,” I say.

  “This tree didn’t come from a forest,” says Timber.

  “Listen, city boy,” I say with a laugh. “Hate to break it to you, but trees grow in forests. Not in concrete in the middle of Manhattan.”

  “But in forests, they don’t grow this big.” He points to the top of the tree, where there’s a giant star like a goofy hat.

  “Obviously, you’ve never been to our neck of the woods,” I tell him.

  “Seriously, Zeph. You don’t have to be so upset.” He lays his hand on my shoulder. I feel like a snowflake in the sun. “Somebody donates a tree from their yard every year. They don’t go out in the woods and cut one down.”

  This makes me feel a little bit better. “Still, I hate to think of this old beauty being chainsawed down for a few weeks of glitz and glamour.”

  Timber bumps me with his elbow. “Come on. You sound like a Grinch.”

  “A . . . ?” I start to say.

  Timber laughs. “I’ll lend you the book. Anyway, just wait until you see the tree lit up when the sun goes down. It’s pretty spectacular.” Then he turns and points over the railing of a fence behind the tree. “And check out the rink.”

  “Now that I like,” I say when I see the large square of perfect ice surrounded by lights, a waterfall, and a beautiful golden statue of some dude flying with fire in his hand. Above it, around the rim where we stand, are rows of brightly colored flags whipping in the wind. The whole place is beautiful.

  “I bet you’re a great skater,” Timber says. I grin because ice skates are one erdler invention we’re very familiar with in Alverland. “And look over there,” Timber says, pointing to the other side of the concourse, where a small stage with mics and spotlights wait.

  “Is that where we’ll perform?” I ask.

  He nods. “You have to admit, that’s pretty cool, right?”

  I imagine us on the stage, singing and dancing, people skating below us and this amazing old tree in the backdrop. “Wow,” is all I can say, because in Alverland, nothing like this is possible.

  “I’ve lived in New York City all my life,” Timber says, slinging his arm around my shoulder. “And every year Christmas here still amazes me.”

  Without thinking, I reach up and slip my mittened hand into his.

  He gives my hand a little squeeze. “This is going to be awesome.”

  “Yes,” I say, squeezing back. “It is.”

  Timber lets go of my hand and leans against the railing. He looks at me. “I haven’t seen you much this week.”

  “Guess we’ve both been busy with rehearsal and stuff.” I concentrate on watching the skaters so he won’t notice the disappointment in my eyes.

  “I’ve missed hanging out with you,” he tells me.

  I snap my head around toward him. “What?” I ask. “Really?”

  “Sure, really.” He laughs. “Why’d you act so surprised?”

  I shrug, but I can’t contain my smile. “I didn’t know it was important to you to hang out with me.”

  Timber’s smile melts into a frown. “Of course it is. You’re my . . . my ...”

  I search his face, his dancing blue eyes, the hint of the comma at the corner of his mouth. “Your what?”

  He shakes his head and laughs, but his eyes still look troubled. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I did miss you.”

  I can’t help it. Now my smile is plastered from cheek to cheek like a chipmunk with a den full of acorns. “Well,” I say slowly, “there’s something we could do about that.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, a grin sneaking onto his gorgeous face. “What’s that?”

  “Why don’t we hang out after this?”

  As quickly as it came, the grin is gone. “Aw crap, Zeph. I’d really like to, but ...” He shakes his head and stares down at the rink again.

  “But what?”

  “It’s this stupid musical. Mr. Padgett has Bella and me rehearsing all the time.”

  “You sure it’s Mr. Padgett?” I ask, my jaw clenched. Timber looks at me, confused. “Maybe it’s Bella who’s demanding all the rehearsal time with you.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. The whole play is a mess. Padgett keeps changing things and ...” He leans in close to me. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know if he’s even finished writing it yet. It’ll be a miracle if this thing is ready to go in two weeks.”

  “So blow him off!” I say, stamping my foot. “He can’t make you rehearse on a Friday night.”

  Timber takes a deep breath, then lets the air out slowly so his face is obscured by the steam. “I wish I could.”

  “Whatever,” I say. “I’m going to find Briar and Mercedes.”

  Timber reaches out and grabs my sleeve. “Hey,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “I just wish ...” I say, but then I stop, because wishing isn’t going to change anything.

  What?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, looking down at the skaters in the rink below. “You do what you have to do.”

  Mr. Padgett pulls the entire cast aside by the stage at four o’clock to explain what’s about to happen. I huddle close to Mercedes to keep warm. “The show starts at four-fifteen sharp,” he tells us. Mercy and I wriggle with excitement. “Before we go on, Bella will do a solo performance and then—”

  He gets drowned out by everyone saying, “What? How the . . . ? Who said anything about . . . ?”

  Mr. Padgett holds up his hand. “Hey, this is showbiz, kids,” he says. “Not some grammar-school talent show. Some people get solos. You don’t like it, get on the subway back to Brooklyn.”

  Everyone shuts up, but no one is happy. Except for Bella, who stands slightly behind Padgie with a half smirk on her face. I glance behind her to see Clay and Dawn lurking in the shadows. I elbow Mercedes and point to them. “I bet they’re behind this.”

  “Jerks,” she says.

  “After that,” Mr. Padgett continues, “there will be a ten-minute break to reset the stage and then the Idle America cast will go on at four forty-five sharp. Do not be late! We will go on without you. Understood?”

  Everyone nods and mutters yes.

  “Good,” says Padgie. “And I hope I don’t have to remind you that this is a professional performance. I expect everyone to do his or her best, because if you look bad, I look bad, and I don’t like looking bad.”

  “Jeez,” Mercedes says. “Easy there, Herr Padgett.”

  When Mr. Padgett has finished with us, Briar slips behind me. “I have an idea,” she whispers in my ear. She motions with her head for me to follow her.

  Briar leans against the railing overlooking the rink. “Clay just told me that Bella’s getting a solo,” Briar says.

  “I know. What the . . . ?”

  “Here’s the deal,” Briar says. “Clay set this whole thing up. Someone owed him a favor. He couldn’t get Bella booked alone, though. He needed the school angle to make it happen, but he made Padgie promise Bella a solo because he brought a bunch of casting agents to check her out.”

  “I hope she falls on her butt.”

  “Exactly,” Briar says, smiling. “And maybe we could help her along.”

  “No, Bri. I’m not going to—”

  She holds up her hands. “I’m not talking about zapping her. I’m talking about something better than that.”

  “What would be better than that?” I ask.

  “Zapping Timber,” she says.

  I roll my eyes. “We can’t do that! There are hundreds of people here.”

  “But we can do something else.” She points to the skating rink.

  “What?” I search the ice for a clue about what’s she’s thinking.

  “Let’s do the elf circle. On skates. Down there.”
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  “When?” I ask, still not understanding her plan.

  “Four-fifteen sharp.”

  “That’s when Bella goes on.”

  “Duh,” says Briar. “And we always attract a crowd.”

  “Briar!” I gasp. “You’re so brilliant. Evil, but brilliant.” But then I stop. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can.”

  “Yes, you can.” She takes my hand and pulls me toward the revolving doors in the nearest building. “I already checked it out. We just have to rent skates and—”

  “But, but, but ...” I stutter as I let her pull me through the crowd. Briar stops. “Yes or no?” she says, staring at me. And I think, This is it. Briar’s getting tired of trying to help me. It could be my one chance to get Timber, and get back at Bella, at the same time.

  “Technically we’re not casting spells,” I say.

  “Of course not,” Briar says. “We’ll just be doing the dance, which we do all the time. Only this time we’ll be Elves on Ice.”

  I bite my lip. Somewhere deep inside I know this isn’t exactly the right thing to do. It could all backfire or get us into trouble. But then again, since we’re not exactly sure what the elf dance does, I can’t really get in trouble for dancing it, can I? Even if I could, do I care? Because for a moment by the tree, I thought Timber was going to blow off Bella to be with me, and that was the best feeling I’ve had in weeks. And now the best chance I have to make that happen is to get out there on the ice.

  “Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

  Briar and I lace up our skates and zip out to take three quick laps around the perimeter of the rink, spinning and dancing the whole way. Since winter is so long in Alverland, we start skating as soon as we learn to walk. Even though I haven’t been on skates since the end of last winter, I feel great on the ice, and when my path is clear I do a split jump, sending a whoop up from the small crowd beginning to gather near the railing. “No jumping!” one of the workers tells me, and I smile sweetly.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I won’t do it again.”

  Then I hear someone call my name. I look up to see Mercedes and Ari, waving and yelling from near the railing. “Do some more!” they holler.

  Briar comes up next to me, sending a spray of ice shavings arcing into the air. “You ready?” she asks.

  I glance up at the stage. The lights are on now and the MC is climbing the steps to introduce Bella. I also search for Timber, but I don’t see him. He’s not with Mercedes and Ari. Not by the tree. He must be in the audience getting ready to watch Bella. All I can do is hope that Briar and I cause enough of a ruckus that he comes to the railing to watch. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

  Briar and I skate to the middle of the rink. With one toe of our skates digging into the ice, we circumscribe a large circle in the center, then we step inside it and face each other just the way we do at the park. Before Bella’s music kicks in, we start our chant.

  Around and around we go, dancing our dance on the narrow steel blades of our skates. The lights, the golden statue, the flags, and the Christmas tree above us blur together as we spin and chant. Within minutes, the other skaters on the ice have formed a ring around us, but I can’t make out any faces as I keep going, shouting now, “Sha we no, hallenschor, um triden fayre la dolly. For maden kling um shaden flang, um TIMBER fayre la dolly!”

  Doing the dance on skates feels like flying. Soon I realize that above us, crowds of people have gathered at the railing to watch. I can’t slow down enough to see individual faces, but I keep shouting Timber’s name, hoping that he feels me spinning into his heart. As usual, I lose track of time and too soon Briar slows the chant, but I don’t want to stop. I could keep going until the moon and stars shine down on us.

  Briar skates nearer to me and takes my hands. We spin together, a mighty whirl of blond hair flying, until our momentum slows. I close my eyes, whisper the chant, and let my heart beat calm as our skates come to a stop. Briar hugs me close. I cling to her and say, “Thank you” into her ear.

  When we look up a roar of applause engulfs us. Briar grabs my hand and pulls me into a bow. We spin around, bowing in each direction, to the other skaters on the ice, to the lines of people by the railing above us, to others who watch from the windows down below. Then I turn and look up at the stage. Even Bella has stopped to stare down at us. She’s too far away for me to see clearly, but I can tell that she’s pissed. This makes me smile. I press my glove against my lips and toss her a big juicy kiss!

  We hurry out of our skates and run up the steps to the concourse. When we burst through the doors near the stage, Mercedes and Ari grab us. “I don’t know what that was,” Mercedes yells, “but it was off the hook!”

  “Oh my God!” Ari’s laughing so hard he can hardly stand up straight. “And did you see how many people were watching you? And how many people were NOT watching Bella?”

  I grab his arm. “Really?” I ask. “Did they really watch us and not her?”

  “Honey!” Ari says, slapping my back. “She had, like, one homeless guy and a Salvation Army Santa on a smoke break watching her. You had like a thousand people mesmerized! What was that?”

  Briar and I squeal and jump around, hugging each other. “We did it! We did it!” we yell.

  “But come on, Kristi Yamaguchi,” Mercedes says, pulling me away from my cousin. “It’s time to dance with the stars!”

  We head toward the stage where the rest of the cast has gathered. Everyone applauds when I run up, except for Bella, who stands off to the side, shooting fire from her eyes. I swear, if she were magic, I’d be a pile of dog doo by now.

  “Where’s Timber?” Mr. Padgett yells as he pushes through the cast. “Where the hell is he?”

  I crane my neck, looking for those blue eyes flashing in the crowd, but I don’t see him anywhere. Then behind me, the crowd parts and Timber comes running. I step into the center of the group, facing Timber as he skids to a stop. My heart nearly bursts out of my chest. “Did you see?” I ask him.

  “Am I late? Did I miss it?” he pants.

  “Did you see us?” I ask again, searching his face for some sign of true devotion.

  But he blinks at me. “Did we already go on?”

  “Who?” I say.

  “The cast,” he says.

  “No,” I say, baffled. “Bella did her solo and Briar and I—”

  “Whew!” he says and laughs, finally catching his breath. “I ran over to the Sony store to get a new charger for my phone and—”

  “It’s about time!” Mr. Padgett pushes me aside. “So nice of you to join us.” He grabs Timber by the elbow and drags him away. I watch, my heart dissolving into a puddle of slush. He didn’t see it. He wasn’t there. Mr. Padgett leads him up the steps.

  I watch Timber mount the stage with Bella by his side. “How’d your solo go?” he asks her.

  “Shut up,” Bella says, and pushes him into the spotlight.

  I trudge behind the rest of the cast and take my place in the back of the V. The music starts, but I can hardly sing, I’m so disappointed. How could this happen? All through the first song, I do my steps, lackluster, my arms flopping like half-dead fish. How could he miss it? It was my chance. My one chance. The only thing that saves me from crying onstage is watching Mercedes belt out her solo in the second number. She’s on fire when she steps forward into the spotlight. Her voice is strong and clear. Her high notes could shatter glass, and her lows make your heart ache. She throws her arms open for her last line. “I have so far to go!” She holds the note until the crowd screams and stomps and claps.

  I take my mark for the last song of the first act and I dread what’s coming. This is when they kiss. When the song is over, I fall to the stage in the pile of bodies like I’m supposed to, but I want to stay here forever, buried under arms and legs. I know I shouldn’t look, but I can’t help myself. I lift my head to look at Timber. He’s center stage, next to Bella. She pauses, then turns her head and locks eyes with me. She r
eaches for Timber, wraps both hands around his head, and pulls him toward her. Before their faces meet, she opens her mouth and slides out her tongue, then she plants the biggest, sloppiest, wettest French kiss on him that I’ve ever seen. Timber leans into her, his eyes closed, like he’s lost in a moment of true love, but Bella’s eyes are wide open and she’s staring straight at me.

  chapter 14

  WHEN WE COME offstage, we’re almost mobbed by people wanting to congratulate us on a great performance, but I want to get away. I need a place to go where I can cry. As I push through the crowd, mumbling, “Thanks,” someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around to see a tall, elegant woman with fiery-red hair wearing pressed black pants and a black and silver wrap. She extends her hand. “Zephyr?” she says. I nod. “My name is Isadora Falcon. I saw you dancing on the ice.”

  I step back. “How did you know my name?”

  The woman points over her shoulder to Dawn, who stands off to the side with her arm around Bella as people surround her. “She told me.” She hands me a card. “I’m a booking agent with IMG.” I look at her blankly. “We’re a modeling agency,” she says, and I nod, but I’m not sure what that has to do with me. “I’d like to talk with you and your cousin about putting together a portfolio and booking some work for the two of you. Twins are very hot right now and you girls could pass.”

  “I don’t think so,” I say. What is it with the twin thing? Then I see Briar weaving through the crowd to get to me. “But you should definitely meet my cousin.” She turns around just as Briar walks up, and I take that as an opportunity to slip away.

  As I make my way through all the people, I see Mercedes shaking the hand of a guy in a suit. She’s smiling from ear to ear. He takes a card from his wallet and hands it to her. She clutches it with both hands as if she’s been given a thousand-dollar bill. Behind that guy is a woman, reaching for Mercy, too. And another on the other side, tapping her on the shoulder. Good for her, I think. It’s about time someone noticed how talented she is.