North Pole Reform School

by Admans, Jaimie

  “Why not?”

  “Because the letters are supposed to be from Santa. It’s not my job to change that.”

  “It’s your job to sit in a cold and lonely basement day in and day out, writing someone else’s letters?”

  “But the children love the letters.”

  “The children would equally love the letters if they were signed from the person who actually wrote them.”

  “I couldn’t, I couldn’t,” he mumbles.

  “Go for it. Elf Jingle: Chief Letter Writer.” Luke grins.

  “By jolly, I think I will.” He punches a fist into the air in excitement. “Yes. Yes, you’re absolutely right. Santa hasn’t thought twice about me all year, why should I cover his ass any longer?”

  “I didn’t think elves were allowed to say the word ass…”

  “Oh, elves are allowed to say anything, we just choose not to as it brings down the Christmas spirit.”

  “Sod the Christmas spirit. Show that Santa what you’re made of!” Luke cheers him on even more.

  “Yes!” Jingle shouts happily. “And you two must sign your own names, of course. You will be honorary elves. You must sign your letters from Elf Luke and Elf Mistletoe.”

  “Honorary elves, eh?” Luke nudges me with his elbow. “My wildest dream has come true at last.”

  Jingle doesn’t notice his sarcasm. “Yes, we must get to it immediately. Here, you sit here and you here.” He points us to an empty spot on the floor and we sit down. Jingle takes a stack of envelopes from the bottom of the big pile and deposits them on the floor in front of us. Then he hands us paper and a selection of glitter pens.

  The amount of letters is nothing short of ridiculous.

  “How can Santa expect you to manage all these by yourself?” I ask.

  Jingle shrugs. “He doesn’t care either way. Like I said, if he had his way the whole department would have been wiped out. Tinsel and Navi pleaded my case, but I’m here out of choice.”

  “Aren’t there some other elves who could help you? You elves love Christmas. Surely loads of you would like the children to still get replies?”

  “They already have jobs. The other elves aren’t allowed to leave their own jobs to help me. As far as Santa is concerned, my job doesn’t count. I may as well not exist.”

  “It’s crazy to expect you to cope with all these letters on your own,” Luke says.

  “I have to. If I didn’t then no child would get a reply to their letter. It doesn’t matter anyway. At least I have help from the reform groups when you’re in.”

  I take that as my cue to make a start on my pile of letters. Some of them are what we expected. A child basically demanding the entire Toys“R”Us catalogue. Jingle insists that every letter deserves a response, so I write back a cursory “We’ll see what Santa can do” and sign it from Elf Mistletoe. There are more like it. Santa, give me this, give me that, and even one who demands Santa come early as he doesn’t wish to wait until the twenty-fifth for his toys. I slide that one under a sack when Jingle isn’t looking. That one doesn’t deserve a response, no matter what some letter-writing elf might think.

  There are others, too, though. Ones that are about more than just toys. Ones that make me realise how much children put their trust in Santa. They think he’s a magical being who can wave a wand and make everything better. I wonder how disappointed they’d be if they found out he was just a power-hungry bastard who doesn’t even like the elves he employs. I glance at Luke, but he’s hunched over writing his own replies so he doesn’t see me. He’d probably say I’m being silly and that this is what the elves want anyway. To make you see the magic of Christmas. To make you realise how important it is.

  Well, for me, it’s working.

  Dear Santa,

  I’m not writing for a Christmas present. There is nothing that I need. I just wanted to write and let you know how much you mean to me. Sometimes I can’t sleep at night and I lie awake and I feel scared for no reason. When I feel like that, I think of you and it calms me down. I picture you up in the North Pole feeding your reindeer and I don’t feel so scared anymore. My mum has bought extra cookies this year, and we will leave plenty out for you along with a glass of warm milk as you must get cold in the sleigh on Christmas Eve. We will leave mince pies as well as we are not sure if you prefer pies to cookies, and also some carrots for the reindeer in case they are hungry from all that flying. I hope you have a good journey this year. Mum says you won’t come if I wait up for you, but I would love to see you. Please come anyway, even if I am awake. I promise I won’t tell.

  Love,

  Timmy

  I write back to him.

  Dear Timmy,

  My name is Mistletoe, and I’m one of Santa’s elves at the North Pole. I’m sorry that Santa is very, very busy this year, and he doesn’t have time to respond personally. But he asked me to say thank you very much for your lovely letter and to tell you that he has an equal love of cookies and pies, and the reindeer certainly do enjoy carrots. Thank you very much for thinking of them as well. Santa would love to stop and chat, but unfortunately he has a very tight schedule on Christmas Eve. He will, however, wave to you if his sleigh passes your window.

  Take care,

  Elf Mistletoe

  Something about this rubs me up the wrong way. Santa doesn’t care about these children, and it seems wrong to let them think that he does. The whole letter I’ve just written is a lie. Santa hasn’t read Timmy’s letter. He doesn’t care if there are mince pies or cookies for him. He probably doesn’t even eat them. He doesn’t think it’s sweet that Timmy worries about him getting cold or the reindeer getting hungry.

  It’s wrong, and I want to do something about it.

  The next letter makes me tear up.

  Dear Santa,

  There’s only one thing I want for Christmas, and even though I know your elves can’t make it in the toyshop, I don’t want anything else. My mummy is really sick, and she has been for a long time. Daddy says this will be her last Christmas, and I don’t want it to be. I don’t care about toys. I just want my mummy to get better. I want her to be here forever. Christmas won’t be Christmas without her.

  Love,

  Becky

  There are tears in my eyes when I finish reading that one. Luke looks up from his letter and his eyes are shining too.

  Jingle smiles at us both. “All part of the job,” he says warmly.

  “How can Santa think this isn’t important? These children need him.”

  “He can’t save people’s lives, Mistletoe. You know that.”

  “Yeah, obviously. But even a letter back from him would make this girl feel better.”

  “Why do you think I stay down here on my own every day? This is the part of Christmas that really helps people.”

  “How could Santa want to do away with this?” Luke wipes his eyes. “I’ve just had a letter from a girl dying of cancer, and her Christmas wish is that Santa help her mum and dad to not be sad when she’s gone. How am I supposed to respond to that?”

  “Just write something true and genuine, Luke. Something that comes from the heart, even if it’s just to say you’re sorry for her situation. A heartfelt sentence is better than nothing at all. We have a unique opportunity to connect with children here. Personally, I think it’s the most important part of Christmas, but clearly Santa doesn’t agree. Between you and me, I think he likes children about as much as he likes elves.”

  “This Santa sounds like a right bastard. I wish there was something we could do,” Luke says.

  It surprises me. I didn’t think Luke cared about Christmas at all, especially about the elves and the North Pole. I’ll have to ask him later.

  I try to see through my tears to write my own response.

  Dear Becky,

  I wish Santa could help you. I really do. If it was up to me, we would wave a magic wand and make your mummy better, but we can’t do that. I’m sorry that there is no one in the world who can do
that, not even Santa. I know it’s hard, but you should spend as much time as possible with your mummy and try to make this Christmas the best she has ever had. In the future, you will always be able to remember it, and for a moment you might feel as though your mummy is by your side again.

  We will be thinking of you and sending you a special wish on Christmas Eve.

  All my love,

  Elf Mistletoe (at the North Pole)

  Dear Santa,

  Daddy said my present request was too weird this year, and he couldn’t get one so I should ask you for it instead. Santa, please can you bring me a dolphin? A real, live, proper dolphin. Daddy brought me a giant stuffed one, but it isn’t the same. I promise I will look after it always. We have an inflatable paddling pool in the back garden that we can keep it in.

  Love,

  Cheyenne

  At least that one makes me laugh.

  Dear Cheyenne,

  As much as Santa would love to provide you with a dolphin, I’m afraid dolphins need more than an inflatable pool to survive. They need open sea to swim in and plenty of fish to eat. I know it’s not the same, but perhaps you could ask your daddy to take you to see one in an aquarium? Believe me, we would all love a dolphin in our back garden, but it’s just not healthy for the dolphin. They are much happier in the sea.

  Love,

  Elf Mistletoe. (North Pole)

  And the next one:

  Dear Santa,

  Please help me. I don’t want toys and presents this year. There are these boys at school who keep picking on me. They threw my bag into a puddle, and my mum got mad at me for dropping it. I couldn’t tell her the truth even though I didn’t drop it. Sometimes they kick me and punch me. I used to bring money to school for treats but I don’t anymore because they always take it. They call me names and push me sometimes. I can’t tell anyone because they will laugh at me, and the boys have told me they will hurt me if I tell. Please stop these boys. I don’t want toys or anything under the Christmas tree. Please just make them stop. I want to feel safe again.

  Love,

  William

  “This is like being an agony aunt for children,” Luke says.

  “Santa doesn’t realise how lucky he is.”

  Jingle smiles happily. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

  “This is amazing. I mean, we might not be able to do much to help these children, but it feels good. It feels like we’re helping,” I say.

  “I’m glad I’m not pretending to be Santa anymore. It feels better this way. It’s very freeing,” Jingle says.

  Luke laughs. “Glad to be of service.”

  I write back to the bullied boy.

  Dear William,

  This isn’t going to be what you want to hear, but Santa can’t stop these bullies. The only person who can stop them is you. I know they have threatened you and told you not to tell anyone. This is all part of their routine. You have to be brave and tell someone. There must be an adult you trust—your parents, or perhaps a teacher. I promise that no one will laugh at you or think any less of you. They will know how strong you are for having the courage to tell them. You have done nothing wrong, and you don’t deserve to be treated like this. Please tell an adult and they will help you. I promise that it won’t make the bullying worse. It will stop. You just have to find the courage to take the first step.

  Please find encouragement in this letter and know that Santa and a whole gang of elves from the North Pole are on your side.

  Love,

  Elf Mistletoe

  “Have they finally got to you too?” I ask Luke as we trudge towards the dining hall when Jingle lets us go for lunch.

  He shrugs. “I guess I’d never really thought about how much it means to people. This has… I mean, you know, you get wrapped up in your own life. My only care at Christmas is stopping any fights and not letting my sister realise how shit our dad is. You get so wrapped up in it that you forget there are other people out there who love it, and you forget that some children think Santa is the answer to their prayers.”

  “It’s shocked me,” I admit. “I pretty much thought that no kids believed in Santa anymore. It’s surprising how many children turn to him because they have no one else to go to.”

  “I don’t like this Santa though. He’s really a bit of a bastard.”

  “I know. I thought Santa was meant to be happy and jolly.”

  “I wish we could do something. It’s wrong to have someone like this in a job as important as being Santa is.”

  “Those are words I never thought I’d hear coming out of your mouth,” I tell him.

  He laughs. “Maybe they have got to me a little bit.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “Welcome to Christmas Past and Present. I’m Noelle. I believe this is your last class before graduation!”

  “It is?” Luke and I look at each other in shock.

  “Yes, yes,” she says. “This is always the last stop before they send you home.”

  “Well, thank God for that,” Luke mutters.

  The truth is we had no idea we were nearly done. Days have merged into weeks, and we know we’ve been here for a while now, but they have no calendars here. At least, not in places we can see them.

  “I’m always honoured to have the last class. I think my department is a lovely way to remember the North Pole.”

  “What exactly is Christmas Past and Present?” Luke asks.

  “Well, we’re the only department in the North Pole that exists solely for the reform groups. Every other place you’ve been working in is something that already goes on here. But with me, I’m only here to help you on your journey to Christmas reform.”

  I can feel Luke bristling beside me and I nudge him with my elbow.

  “Maybe I don’t want to be helped on my journey to Christmas reform,” he hisses in my ear.

  “If they’ve put you on my schedule, Luke, clearly you are already reformed,” Noelle says, seemingly unaware of the fact she wasn’t meant to hear that. And the fact that we haven’t even introduced ourselves.

  “That’s debateable,” he mutters.

  “Nonsense. You must have been doing well or you wouldn’t have been sent to me. Now, if you’d like to come into my office, I’ll show you what Christmas Past and Present really is.”

  We follow her, and she takes us into a small room. On one wall is a huge cinema screen.

  “Wow. I bet you slack off in here watching Christmas movies all day,” Luke says.

  “Oh, no, dear. Watching Christmas movies is never slacking off.” She says it completely seriously.

  She directs us both to sit down and we do.

  “Now then. Up until now, your jobs have been designed to teach you the meaning of Christmas. It’s all been very physical with a lot of elves lecturing you, I would imagine.”

  Luke snorts. “You must’ve been to reform school yourself.”

  “No, dear,” she says seriously. “Elves could never hate Christmas.”

  Luke rolls his eyes.

  “Anyway,” she continues, “I’m here to show you how important Christmas is, and once was to you yourselves. I think it’s a lovely thing to leave you with as we send you on your way.”

  “And just when will you be sending us?”

  “I believe you’ll see Santa for your graduation ceremony tomorrow.”

  “Excellent.” Luke beams at me, but the smile I send him in return isn’t so wide.

  It’s not that I don’t want to get out of here. It’s not that I don’t miss my family. It’s not that I don’t want to go home.

  It’s that I don’t want to leave him.

  I’ve spent the past however many days with Luke, and once we leave here, we’ll probably never see each other again. He’ll go back to his life and forget all about me. And I can’t bear the thought of him going back to his father. What will happen when he gets back? I wonder if he’ll be in trouble for coming here. I wonder if his father will have hurt his sis
ter. I wonder if he’ll get a beating for disappearing in the middle of the night, even though it wasn’t his choice. I doubt his father will accept that a bunch of elves kidnapped him.

  It makes me shudder just to think of it, and I look up to find Noelle looking at me curiously.

  “I’m here to show you just how important Christmas is to families. If you’ll just sit and watch the screen.”

  We do, and it jumps into life. A film plays. We are shown a front lawn.

  Luke gasps.

  There is a Santa Stop Here sign on the lawn and a little girl is kicking it down.

  “Gracie, honey, don’t,” a woman says, bending down to pick the little girl up.

  “I hate that stupid sign. Granddad would still be here if it wasn’t for that stupid sign.”

  “Now, that’s not true. Your granddad didn’t die because his sign went missing. He died because he was ill. You mustn’t blame the sign.”

  “That’s the last of it.” A man walks out of the house carrying a box. “I can’t believe the council made us clear his house out so soon before Christmas. It’s not like anyone is going to move here in the next two days, is it?”

  “You know what they’re like, honey.”

  He grunts. “I just can’t believe he’s gone. We’ve never spent Christmas without him before.”

  The woman brushes her hand over his cheek and wipes away a tear. “Things will get easier,” she says.

  I don’t need to look over at Luke to know he’s crying. I reach over and take his hand, and he squeezes mine back tightly.

  The scene cuts. This time we are in a living room. It’s decorated for Christmas with a big green tree covered in lights in one corner. On the sofa there is a little boy looking bored and flicking a remote control at the TV to change channels.

  “Muuuuuuum!” he shouts. “Muuuuuum! I’m boooooored!”

  A harassed-looking woman comes rushing in. “I know, Olly, I know, but you’ll just have to amuse yourself for a minute. I’m cooking and feeding your little brother.”