by Emma Savant
“I’m not trying to make trouble,” I said. “I just don’t want to be here.”
“Welcome to the club.”
I stepped back. He sighed, and his bushy white eyebrows relaxed just a bit.
“I’m sorry,” he said, unfolding his arms and looking defeated. “It’s been a long day.”
He turned around and set the screwdriver on a shelf next to a mismatched array of other tools.
I glanced back at the destroyed vehicle.
“Can’t you just, I don’t know, wave a wand and say ‘Ho ho ho’ and fix it?”
He made a sound like a chuckle that couldn’t be bothered to happen all the way.
“I certainly wish that was an option,” he said. He walked toward the sleigh and waved me to follow. “You see this nav panel?”
It looked even worse up close. Wires poked out of the bottom of the panel, and the whole thing was covered in brutal scratches.
“This took us six months to fix last time the screen went out,” he said. “Just the screen. The whole thing’s held together with wire and duct tape and magic and probably the prayers of my mechanics. It’s the only one like it in the world, and the only thing that can get anyone in or out of the North Pole.” He rubbed his beard. “It wouldn’t be such a crisis if this were February, but—well.”
“You really don’t have a backup vehicle?” I said.
“Can’t,” he said shortly. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”
He examined me through his spectacles, and I felt sick. Not only was I trapped in the world’s iciest corner with a man who shouldn’t exist, but I’d clearly ruined his night.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll go back to bed. I won’t cause problems.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be enough,” he said. “No disrespect, Holly, but you’re a wild card, and I can’t be worried about what you’re getting up to. We haven’t had a Humdrum visitor in—I don’t know how long.”
It was the second time I’d heard that word.
“What’s a Humdrum?”
“It means you don’t have magic,” he said. “You’re not even supposed to be here, but our ox is in the mire, as they say. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a cashier at a grocery store,” I said.
He frowned. The gesture was hidden beneath his beard, but it still made the rest of his face fall slightly.
“We don’t need one of those,” he said. “Perhaps Noelle can find a job for you.”
“A job?”
What kind of jobs did they even have around here? Sleigh bell ringer? Gingerbread architect? The literal last thing I needed was to get trapped at the North Pole and in another horrible dead-end reminder of my thousand academic and professional failures.
“You may as well take on some work around the place,” Santa said. “Since you’ve decided to make yourself at home.”
I couldn’t think of a decent argument. I pursed my lips while he watched me with his too-blue eyes.
He might be a jolly old elf, but he looked scary when he was staring me down like that.
“I guess I might as well,” I said.
“Better head back to your room and get some sleep,” he said, gesturing back up the metal stairs. “We might not get any sunlight in the winter here, but morning still comes early.”
Chapter 6
He wasn’t kidding. A loud knock sounded at my door the next morning before I felt like I’d really fallen asleep. I opened my eyes, which were scratchy with exhaustion, and the knocks came again.
It was still pitch dark outside. I switched on the bedside lamp.
“Come in,” I called. My voice sounded like a frog’s.
The door opened, and a very alert woman entered the room. She was dressed in black jeans and a crimson blouse with a white Peter Pan collar. A cloud of short, frizzy black hair curled around her ears.
She put her hands on her hips and her eyebrows shot skyward.
“You’re still in bed,” she said.
“Fact,” I said. I pulled the blankets closer up to my chin.
“Well, that won’t do.”
Her voice was too loud for this hour—whatever this hour was. I couldn’t see the clock on the mantlepiece through the sleepy haze in my eyes.
“Didn’t Santa tell you I’d be coming by?”
“You must be Noelle.”
I sat up, my body protesting. She flipped the switch next to the door, and I took a second to be glad that the canopy over the bed stopped the overhead lights from blinding me. The Christmas tree in the corner twinkled on.
“First day of work,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“What time is it?”
“Almost eight,” she said. “Everyone else is clocking in right about now.”
I rubbed my eyes. My entire body was heavy with exhaustion.
“You do realize I’m recovering from being literally run over by a reindeer?” I said. “And the entire sleigh that was attached?”
“Santa said you were feeling better,” she said. “Was he wrong? Do you need a nurse?”
I checked in with my head. It wasn’t throbbing anymore. I felt terrible, but that was all down to getting three hours of sleep and the low-level anxiety that came from knowing I was about to learn new skills and meet people who were going to judge me on them.
“Do you have a phone?” I said. “Santa said I could call my boss.”
“Yes,” she said, frowning a little at me. “Come get breakfast and we’ll swing by my office. I’ll let you get dressed. Check the wardrobe. I’ll be back in ten.”
She looked at a watch on her wrist, as if she was actually planning to time me, and disappeared. I groaned and fell back onto the pillows.
My life was hell.
I let myself lie in my own dread for a few minutes, then dragged myself out of bed. My clothes from yesterday were gone, but the wardrobe Noelle had pointed at before she’d left was full of outfits and shoes that, oddly, seemed exactly my size.
I pulled on a pair of leggings and a long black tunic, which seemed appropriately dull and mournful, and slipped on a pair of ballet flats.
When Noelle came back, I was standing in front of the mirror and tying my hair up into a ponytail.
She nodded her approval, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her what I thought of her approval.
I was already in trouble with Santa. I didn’t need to go screwing things up with his henchwoman, too.
I followed her down the halls. Everything looked brighter than it had last night now that the lights were turned up. I preferred it quiet and asleep. I preferred myself quiet and asleep.
Noelle led me to the wing I’d discovered last night that held the sleigh, and then we took an elevator up to the second floor. This hallway was lined with doors decorated with comic strips and photos of people’s kids, and all the doors had names on them. A few people walked down the hall with papers in their hands, giving me curious looks as they passed.
Everyone here was short, and everyone had the same slightly pointed ears as Felix and Noelle. I was as out of place as—well, as a cashier at the North Pole.
Noelle’s office was decorated with a cheerful wreath. She had a small polished desk with a laptop and phone on it, and a small polished table, on which sat an electric kettle and box full of assorted tea.
She pushed her phone across the desk to me.
“I don’t know the number,” I said.
She opened the laptop. “Where are you calling?”
I told her, and she typed something in.
“You have internet?”
“Of course we have internet,” she said, like I was a moron. “Ready for the number?”
I dialed, my fingers shaking.
How was I supposed to explain this?
“Hello?”
“Judith?”
“Yes?”
“Hi,” I said. I looked to Noelle for guidance, but she was typing and didn’t seem concerned about me. “Um
, Judith, hi. It’s Holly. I’m not going to be in for a few days. I’m, um…”
Oh, screw it, I thought. It wasn’t like I’d have a job to come back to by the time Santa got me home. May as well let them all think I’d lost my mind.
“I’m at the North Pole,” I said. “I was hit by a sleigh driven by elves and now Santa Claus won’t take me home.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Judith said. “I didn’t know your grandmother was ill. Of course, I understand.”
I looked at Noelle. She ignored me, but the corners of her mouth quirked up.
“Did you not hear me?” I said. “I’m at the North Pole. I’ve been kidnapped.”
“I wasn't able to be there after my grandmother passed,” she said. “You’re doing the right thing. Give my family your best.”
“Listen, could you have Alicia go by my place and tell my neighbor I’ll be gone for a while?”
“Yes, I’ll tell her.”
“You’ll tell her what?”
“Alicia? To go to your neighbor’s?”
She sounded confused, but not any more than I was.
“Because I’m at the North Pole,” I said.
“It’s so important to put family first at a time like this,” Judith said. “Take care of yourself.”
What was the point? I thanked her and hung up.
“That’s a nifty trick,” I said flatly.
Noelle looked up. “We can’t have Humdrums knowing about us,” she said. “Don’t worry, she’ll have gotten the message about your neighbor.”
“And my dead grandmother,” I muttered. “That’s real sweet.”
Noelle only smiled and closed her laptop. “You ready for work?”
“You said breakfast,” I said.
She nodded. “I guess I did.”
The cafeteria was an elegant room back in the same wing as my suite, and it looked like it had been full a few hours ago but had since quieted down. A few half-empty trays of eggs and pancakes sat along a buffet, and Noelle followed me as I filled a plate and then got a cup of the strongest, blackest coffee available.
I glanced out the window.
“Is it always this depressing?”
There was nothing to see but the reflection of the cafeteria. Outside, everything was dark and cold.
“It’s winter,” she said.
I ate. The food was surprisingly delicious for having come out of a buffet tray, but every bite still felt like it took enormous effort. Noelle sipped a tea and watched me for a few moments.
“I should probably just go back to bed,” I said. “I did get run over yesterday.”
She shrugged. “Santa said to assign you a job today.”
“And you just do everything Santa says?”
She furrowed her brow. “Of course.”
“Why? The oldest, fattest guy here just gets to be in charge?”
She stared at me like I’d gone insane. “He’s Santa,” she said slowly.
“Must be nice to be him,” I said. I took another bite of scrambled eggs. They were seasoned with garlic and some spices I didn’t recognize. The eggs were good, but as weird as everything else around here.
Noelle frowned, sipped her tea, and then set it back on the table with both hands cupped around its warmth.
“No,” she said. “No, it’s not nice to be him. Not at all. We’re very grateful to him for taking on the responsibility.”
“God forbid parents buy their own kids’ gifts,” I said. I paused with a bite of pancake halfway to my mouth. “Wait, how does that work? You all keep insisting this is real life, but in my world, everyone over the age of ten knows the parents bring the presents.”
“Such an irony,” Noelle said. She pursed her lips. “It’s complicated. You probably wouldn’t understand how it works. Santa wants to be anonymous. Not to kids. He likes kids. He wants to be anonymous to the adults.” She sipped her tea. “Letting adults think they did all the work keeps them from prying. Goodness knows it’s a full-time job just glamouring ourselves from climate researchers and satellites. We don’t need more people showing up where they don’t belong.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out who she meant by that line.
I grimaced at her and drank my coffee. At least they still had caffeine up here.
“Good morning, starshine!” someone called across the room.
Noelle raised her eyebrows and swiveled in her seat as Felix bounded across the cafeteria. A few people at tables glanced at him, but no one else seemed to share the tension that showed up in my shoulders the second I realized he was headed for us.
He collapsed in the chair next to me without being asked, and propped his elbows on the table so he could stare at me more efficiently.
“Hi, Felix,” I said.
“Glad to see you’re having a pleasant morning,” Noelle said.
“The sun is shining—on the other side of the world—and the birds are singing—well, in the menagerie. What’s not to be happy about?”
The only things I hated more than Christmas and kidnapping were morning people. I glared into my coffee.
“Are you going into work today or just going around bothering people?” Noelle said.
“I’m on guest duty,” Felix said. “Santa’s orders. I’m supposed to shadow her during her first day once you’ve got her set up. Thought I’d get an early start, but then I found you all lingering over breakfast.”
“I was run over by a sleigh last night,” I said loudly. How did everyone keep forgetting this?
“And then you had energy to go try grand theft auto,” he said. “Yeah, the big man told me about that.”
The lights flickered. Noelle shot up to standing, and Felix took the opportunity to steal a cluster of egg off my plate. I froze, not sure whose attitude to follow. Murmuring rose up in the cafeteria.
After a moment, the lights came back on. Noelle stayed standing, looking from one corner of the ceiling to another like she could spot the faulty wiring if she looked hard enough.
“That happen a lot?” I said.
I slammed my hand down on top of Felix’s to stop him from stealing more eggs.
Losing power anywhere in winter was a pain, but I could only imagine it would be catastrophic at the North Pole. Then again, didn’t they have magic for things like that?
“I have to go,” Noelle said. She looked between Felix and me, trepidation written all over her features. “She’s on teddy bear eyes today,” she said to Felix. “Can you get her set up?”
“Teddy bear eyes?” he said. “Ugh, that job is so boring. Give her something else.”
“That job is appropriate for a beginner,” Noelle said.
I knew what she meant. It was a job for the kind of people who were likely to screw things up.
“Come on.”
“Felix.”
The authority in her voice shut him down. He deflated against his chair. “Fine. Teddy bear eyes. You got it.”
She pressed her lips together, then glanced at the ceiling again. Clearly unable to waste another second on babysitting either of us, she walked off, tea in hand.
Felix watched her go with a slight crinkle in his nose.
“She needs a vacation,” he said. “Look, you about done here?”
“No,” I said.
I took another bite, as slowly as possible. I held eye contact with him the whole time. He stared at me, then let out a huge sigh and propped his chin on his hands and stared at me.
His willpower was stronger than mine. I only managed a few more bites before I set down the fork.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 7
The white-walled room Felix led me to was decently sized and featured a conveyer belt that brought teddy bears in through one wall and out through another. Workers sitting along the belt sewed glass eyes onto the bears’ faces.
It looked like mind-numbing work.
The first person to notice me nudged her neighbor and whis
pered something. Within seconds, the entire room was staring in my direction.
I held out my hands and wiggled my fingers.
“Ta-da!” I said loudly.
One man smirked. The rest of them quickly went back to what they’d been doing while I rolled my eyes to hide the embarrassment that was threatening to swallow me whole.
Why couldn’t I have just stayed in my room? Why couldn’t I have just appreciated the vacation while I had it and hid in bed until Santa could finally take me home? Why did I have to be such an idiot?
Felix sat me down in an empty chair. A moment later, a supervisor was at my elbow. She was as short and impish-looking as I’d come to expect of everyone here, with tawny skin and white hair swept back into a thick braid.
“You take the teddy bear like this,” she was soon saying, demonstrating the proper way to grasp the bear’s neck. The toy looked creepy without eyes, and creepier with an old woman’s hand pressing into its imaginary jugular. “Then, with the eye threaded onto your needle, you pull it through the whole head like this.”
I mimicked the maneuver a few times. She watched and corrected, then patted me warmly on the shoulder.
“You’ll get better with practice,” she said, and I got the feeling that the less-than-flattering comment was meant to reassure me.
I waited until she’d returned to her own seat and started assaulting her own teddy bear before I muttered to Felix, “I don’t care if I get better with practice. I have no intention of practicing long enough to get better.”
He sat next to me, threading eyes onto eerie bear faces as happily as I assumed he did everything else.
“Why not?” he said. “Not like you have anything better to do.”
The truth of it killed me. I didn’t have anything to do, better or worse. I jabbed my needle into the fuzzy brown fabric.
“That’s not my fault,” I said in an undertone. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this or why I have to work here. It’s not like I’m supposed to do odd jobs for my room and board. If anything, Santa should be paying me damages. He did run over me with a sleigh.”
Felix patted his finished bear on its plastic nose before setting it back on the conveyor belt.
“Santa didn’t run you over,” he said. “Crystal and Aspen did.”
