Princess Claus and the Great Escape

by J L Gillham

  “But I’ve done The Santa Simulation Training for years.” The moment the sentence is out of my mouth, I realize how whiny I sound. Then I think back to when I was little. Dad spent months brainstorming how to better prepare me when he came up with the simulation. The strain on beginning the construction of the new building that was necessary set not only Dad, but also the elves back. They didn’t get one day off that entire year so that they could finish the structure and get all the gifts ready by Christmas.

  Is this the first time I’ve thought about life before the simulation? I started training when I was six, which was immediately after the building was set up. Of course, since I was that young practicing being Santa was easy. The challenges increased as my age and skills went up. And, of course, Nicky wanted to train too. Then Dad joined in. He said it was to keep from getting rusty. But I think it was to keep us kids on our toes by making it difficult to beat his score.

  While I hate the training now, when I was younger it was the highlight of my day. When did that excitement turn into dread? Before I have enough time to chew on that question, Dad’s words pull me from my thoughts.

  “Yes, that does help. But nothing can truly prepare you for being the next Santa.” His shoulders lower.

  I throw my hands up in the air. “So, what was the point of all those hours of practice?” That whiny voice is back, like one of my rashes from poinsettias that I think is healed then begins itching suddenly. I force my hands to my sides and close my eyes.

  I can’t imagine how nervous I’d be to become the next Santa if I hadn’t had all that training. After all, Dad didn’t have the simulations when he was younger. I open my eyes and take a good look at him. When did that crease in his forehead become permanent? And is that a touch of gray showing in his blond hair?

  All my irritation wanes as I realize for the first time Dad is getting older. And, maybe it’s not just the fact that we are nearing Christmas that’s adding to his weariness. Maybe it’s the two decades of being Santa.

  “That’s not what I’m saying. I want you to have what I didn’t. A chance to deliver gifts without being alone. The future Santa with the current one.” He pumps his fist in the air like he’s just given a speech before battle.

  “But why now?” My words come out in a whisper. Maybe if I can get twelve more months to mentally prepare then I can force myself to want what I dread.

  Dad frowns and lowers his shoulders. He closes his eyes for a moment. I expect him to argue and ask why now isn’t as good a time as any. Instead, with his eyes still closed, he matches my hushed volume, saying, “You don’t want to be thrown into it feeling unprepared.”

  Then Dad opens his eyes and takes a step toward me. The hint of a smile is growing. With arms opening after a second of hesitation, I step toward him.

  I’m not sure if this is a pause or end to the conversation, but at this moment I don’t care. How long has it been since I stopped to give Dad a hug? Or anyone?

  Guilt nibbles at my heart. I am still going to look for a way out, but maybe I can spread some festive cheer before I do. Give a few more hugs to the family. Well, everyone but Nicky. And, maybe take a break from my plan every now and then to help the elves prepare for Christmas.

  I hate how much my leaving will disappoint everyone, especially Dad. And, it’s not like our family legacy is his fault. Will all the elves resent me for abandoning my post? Will Finn think less of me?

  What I should do is apologize for my grumpiness and vow to be the best Santa ever. But I just can’t. The idea of never leaving Winter Wonderland except on Christmas is worse than getting the breath knocked out of me every minute of every day.

  It’s not that the role of Santa isn’t important. It’s probably the most important job anyone can have. But although legacies are inherited, they still have to be chosen. And it’s simply a choice I can’t make.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Once mid-morning and once midafternoon, a bell jingles, letting all the elves know to take a break. Some chat, sip tea, and snack on scones of all kinds. A small group meet every break for elf yoga. The most common poses in Winter Wonderland are Downward-Facing Reindeer and Polar Bear Plank. Sometimes I join the elves. The last time I did, I made up the Sugar Cookie Reach and Cat Sipping Hot Chocolate. Those who don’t do yoga often have a snack. The hot tub fills quickly. And many elves find a solitary place to read a book.

  I swing by my bedroom and grab my go-bag. And, then I wait until the bell jingles and all the elves have gone on break. Then I’ll try to make it out of Winter Wonderland undetected.

  Not only will this help me avoid running into any elves, but Dad as well. He always meets Mom when the bell rings so they can spend the time together. I beeline to the sewing and alterations section on the second floor. Although the dining hall is large enough to seat hundreds, it’s not the biggest room in Homebase. The biggest is Santa’s workshop.

  The lowest level of Santa’s workshop is for toys. It also has the wrapping paper. You simply cut a strip of the magical paper and place the gift on top. It only takes seconds for the paper to lift and fold until it is perfectly wrapped.

  The next is for anything that might require a needle and thread. There is row upon row of sewing material, including buttons of every imaginable shape, bins of stuffed animals, and even a small area for clothing repair. The top is for treats. My new favorite being the cotton-candy-flavored edible bubbles.

  The center of Santa’s workshop is a wide-open space. That means one elf can be on the top level blowing bubbles. And if an elf on the sewing level is lucky enough, the bubble won’t pop until it’s made its way down and into his mouth.

  My favorite part about Santa’s workshop isn’t just that Dad spends most of his daytime here, so I always know where to find him. But that in the center of the wide-open space is a slide with three sections, each starting at one of the levels and ending at the bottom floor. It was put there to help when an elf felt any form of a creative block. At least, that is what I was told. I think the elves just wanted an excuse to be able to go down a slide any time of day and still call it work.

  With a quick scan through the finished repairing clothing rack, I find an outfit and pair of recently resoled shoes. The slacks fit, but my toes are squished into the leather booties. With my hair tucked into a cap, I go to the nearby room for doll making. The two accessories I decide on are a pair of glasses and a blond mustache. With a glance in the mirror, it’s obvious I wouldn’t fool anyone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Fiddle-d-fizz!” I toss everything into a heap on the floor. With a quick stop back in the sewing room, I snatch two clothespins, then make my way to the exit by way of the slide. Riding it does elevate my mood slightly. I race back to my room to grab my go-bag. A few minutes later I see that Finn hasn’t left.

  “Yes,” I say, as I peer outside. Finn and Nicky are about twenty feet past the snowmobile and crate. The lid is resting on the top, but even from here I can tell it’s loose.

  Finn is giving Nicky a high five and chatting about the snowball soccer game. I crouch down and race toward the back of the sled. In less than ten seconds, I manage to slip into the crate, cover it with the lid, and place a clothespin on my nose. I hear the crunch of snow as Finn nears. With a roar, the snowmobile comes to life.

  Since my nose can’t smell, I open my mouth to breath. And then I gag. “Yuck!” I say, not worried about being heard over the sound of the vehicle’s engine. I wonder if this taste in my mouth is what sushi is like. I tighten the straps on my go-bag.

  “Thanks again!” Finn shouts a minute later.

  I figure he’s talking to the elves on guard. We must be nearing the entrance.

  This is it. I wrap my arms around myself and dream of all the places in the world I can go. I don’t hesitate to sing my song, Snow Globe Prison, because I’m finally getting free. And because I know no one will be able to hear me over the roar of the engine.

  Just then the alarm blares. In seco
nds, I’m blinded by flashlights pointing into the crate.

  This time it only takes Jolly, who is still on duty, to blow his horn. Immediately, there is silence. “Holler-my-bother!” he mumbles while shaking his head.

  All the rest of the elves’ mouths drop open at Jolly’s use of such a vulgar phrase.

  “Hi,” I say, rising. Still not used to the light, I misjudge my footing and stumble out and onto the ground. As my eyes adjust, I see ten elves glaring at me. I shrug my shoulders and give them the widest grin I can muster.

  Then I hear Finn chuckle. “If you wanted a date out on the town, all you had to do was ask.”

  I turn to him and roll my eyes. He offers me his hand. I cock my head to the side and glare. Then he turns slightly so the elves can’t see his face and winks. I let him help me up.

  “I’ll walk her back. No funny business, I promise.” He switches off the snowmobile again, then heads toward Homebase without waiting for me.

  I jog for a few seconds to catch up. I want to ask him about the wink. Is there a secret to tell or was that just to get me to stop my attempt at fleeing?

  “The alarm went off about one second after we entered the tunnel,” Finn says quietly. “No one knew you were in the crate. I mean, except me.”

  “What? How did you...” My shoulders slump. So, Finn had the chance to rat me out but didn’t. Or is he lying, and he alerted the guards to my hiding spot?

  “There must be something on you that triggers the alarm,” Finn says.

  Less than halfway back, Mom comes running toward us. “Princess Claus! What were you thinking?” She shakes her head, moving her long brown hair.

  While I choose my daily outfit based on how un-Christmasy it is, Mom does the opposite. She has on a green and white striped sweater dress with a necklace made out of silver bells.

  “Mrs. Claus.” Finn dips his head, then faces me. “See ya later.” As he turns away from Mom, he grins and gives me a wink, a very flirty wink.

  “You put something in my clothes?” I raise my chin and try to sound offended, instead of the one who did the offending or rule-breaking.

  “You don’t need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is giving your father and I a heart attack.” Mom stands about a foot away from me with her hands on her hips.

  Her words pierce my defiance. I let out a long breath.

  “Twice in one day we think Ebenezer has broken into Winter Wonderland and kidnapped you.” She moves her hands from her hips and crosses her arms.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how this would frighten you both,” I say. And I mean it. Before the tears pooling in my eyes have a chance to dive bomb, Mom envelops me in a hug.

  I take in a ragged breath and let all my frustrations evaporate. In all the time I’ve spent plotting my escape, I doubt ten minutes were designated to how my actions would affect others.

  However, wanting to escape isn’t like deciding I’ll never eat cookies again. It’s like agreeing to spend your entire life treading water while stranded in the middle of the ocean during a hurricane.

  “I’ll tell father I had the elves test the alarm after this morning’s incident.” Mom says as she releases me.

  I know I should leave it alone, but I just can’t. “Mom, how did I set off the alarm?”

  Her shoulders sag. “I’m not going to tell you. But it doesn’t matter what you wear. The alarm will go off.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The next morning, I decide to skip breakfast. Instead, I grab a snack bar from my plastic tub of hidden snacks. Although my guilt has increased since yesterday’s conversations with Dad and Mom, I don’t stop my plan to find a way to escape.

  After wiping the crumbs from my bed onto the floor, I put my go-bag on the bed. Then I remove only one object. My map full of X’s makes a crinkling sound as I unfold it. I find a red marker and draw a big circle around the entrance to Winter Wonderland. If only the way out worked. I decide to carry on with my original plan of finding a secret exit, at least until I figure out how to avoid triggering the alarm.

  Only a few of the squares aren’t marked with an X. The main areas are the ice caves on the east side of the mountain and the arboretum. While the ice caves are beautiful, they are also dangerous. The rule that no one is allowed to go exploring them alone, or anywhere in and around the mountain, is a good one. Maybe when Cole and his family visit after Christmas I can talk him into it.

  Cole’s mom and my mom grew up together. And each year they spend most of the week sipping iced apple cider while soaking in the hot tub and catching up on the past twelve months. Cole and I spend most of our time in the arboretum, his favorite place in Winter Wonderland. At the end of each day, both of our families get together for dinner. And on the last night, all of us kids have a sleepover in an igloo we spend the week making.

  That’s when I glance at my desk with the telegraph. There is a small whirlwind of magical snow spinning above the machine. “There’s a message!” I shout. As I tear off the paper, the miniature tornado full of flakes dissipates. It only takes me seconds to read it. Typed in the snowflake alphabet is a quick note about looking forward to visiting and a gift I’ll be “itching to open.”

  I wonder what he’s referring to. Most likely it’ll be something he made. He’s the typical mad scientist who is so consumed with his experiments he forgets to eat—well, except for the mad part. I’ve never known a more logical, even-headed person. While I, on the other hand, let my feelings get the best of me more than I’d like to admit.

  This past year I replaced my daydreams about Finn with daydreams about Cole. Maybe this visit our friendship would grow into love. Although he’s never said he has feelings for me more than that of a friend, I’ve often overheard my parents talking about how wonderful it would be if Cole and I married. They must’ve gotten that idea from him sharing personal feelings about me with his parents, who in turn told mine. Why else would my parents say such a thing? The thought of spending the rest of my life with him by my side is comforting.

  I run my finger along the outline of the large, square-marked on my map arboretum. Marking off that building sounds a lot less intimidating than getting lost in the ice caves. I fold up both pieces of paper. The letter gets placed in my bedside drawer. I clip the utility belt around my waist, slipping the map in a pocket. After grabbing my coat, I’m on my way.

  I pass by four people playing snowball soccer. Finn and his sister, Aurora, must’ve already brought Tiny’s food for today. To my surprise one of the townies named Dirk is there. Aurora is playing on his side while Nicky and Finn are on the other. All four are too wrapped up in their activity to see me scurry past them.

  Once I’m in the arboretum, I throw my jacket on a rack. There isn’t a location in Winter Wonderland that needs it more than this one.

  Although all the buildings are heated, none stay as toasty as this one. It’s the only reason I own a couple pairs of shorts.

  I pass by my favorite plant, the cactus that only blooms the week of Christmas. I feels like I’m touching velvet as I rub my finger along one of the white petals rimmed with purple then continue on my way. I spot the bench carved out of one piece of wood. It has an etching of a full-bellied Santa eating cookies. After a quick glance to make sure I’m not being watched, I pull out my map. This building takes up four grids. I’ve wandered the rows of plants while daydreaming more times than I can count. However, I’ve never wandered with a purpose. Glancing high and low, I inspect the dirt, power outlets, and walls like I’m looking for pirate treasure. Though I doubt I’ll find a way out through a secret tunnel under a bush like in the game The Legend of Zelda, I let myself enjoy the scenery as I make sure.

  “I guarantee there are no weeds in any of my dirt,” the elf named Aksel says.

  Jumping from surprise at anyone else being around, I turn and face him. As I do, I put my dirt-covered hands behind my back. “Hi. Just working on my green thumb.”

  He shakes his he
ad. “If you would like to learn more about horticulture, start from the beginning, the seeds.” He removes his gloves and slips them into his apron. Then he pulls out a metal flask of water and takes a sip. Similar to Kringle, who takes care of the animals, Aksel wears simple clothes. His pants are dark brown, and he always has on knee pads while working in the arboretum.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” I force a toothy grin.

  He puts his gloves back on and heads off, but glances back at me twice before rounding a corner out of sight.

  I sigh. I’m about to call it a day when I realize how thirsty I am. I walk to the only water fountain. It’s flanked by the restrooms. After drinking as much water as a camel, I explore the building unsuccessfully. Resigned, I pull out my paper. Four more times I draw an X. Then my pencil slips out of my hands. It makes a clanging sound as it hits the floor, then rolls under one of the other wooden benches. I fold up my map, put it in my pocket, and bend down. Then I crawl under the bench.

  At some point the grate in front of the vent was removed. Whoever did the removing must’ve forgotten to reattach it because there’s no covering on the vent, just a metal square leading into darkness.

  After I’ve got the headlamp on, I shimmy into the vent. I bite my lip, second guessing my decision to come here instead of the ice caves. Before I crawl one inch, the walls seem to close in on me. Three deep breaths aren’t enough to calm me down. I’d gone to the arboretum to avoid inching through dark spaces. And now look at me.

  Before my fear could overwhelm my purpose, I begin crawling on hands and knees. When I come to the first choice, straight or right, I stop. I could use the back side of my map to draw a return path to the exit. Instead, I reach into my utility belt until I feel the tiny ball of yarn.