by J L Gillham
This time I put the snow globe in my go-bag instead of holding it. Then I put the bag on my back and take a deep breath. When I place my hand against the barrier, it doesn’t resist me.
Once I am back in Winter Wonderland, I walk home unhurried. I think back on how I came to my revelation. When I stared at the ice caves, they reminded me of the magical snow globe. I thought about how the dome is based on the miniature globe. But what if one isn’t just based on the other. What if they are connected? That would make sense since when one got a crack in it so did the other.
Then I remembered I had my go-bag and the magical snow globe with me when I hid in the sleigh that left Winter Wonderland and ventured to Hawaii. I made it through the dome because I took part of Winter Wonderland with me in the form of the small snow globe.
Maybe if my parents agreed to let me leave home every now and then I wouldn’t feel so trapped. I wouldn’t dread tomorrow morning when I am scheduled to vow to become the next Santa. After that there is no turning back on my obligations. I need to eradicate the crushing pressure and flee Winter. Wonderland for good. It’s now or never.
I am unsure how much time has passed once I see the barn. “All the reindeer are accounted for,” says Kringle as I pass by him on my way to Homebase.
“Oh, right.” I pause and give him my full attention. “Thanks for your help.”
He nods and heads back into the barn, probably to check on any injuries the reindeer might have. I’d already forgotten about them. Guilt nibbles, but I ignore it. No time for anything but preparations.
I enter into my room to find a mess. My lamp is lying on its side, and there is a small pile of crumbs scattered around. “Tiny!” He must’ve found my secret stash of cookies. That’s the last time I leave food in my room. Or better yet, I’ll get a plastic container and place it up high.
On my walk home inspiration was still flowing. I came up with the rest of the lyrics to finish my song “Snow Globe Prison.” I step to the keyboard, turn it on, and begin playing the now-finished version.
I am shaken, but not broken
I’m finally on my way
To a new world and to freedom
Let the snowflakes fall where they may
I am strong enough to shatter this glass
I am brave enough to step out of old footprints and find my own path.
Be courageous, and finally take a chance
Even though I am afraid
I will make my great escape
Watch the music video at:
http://bit.ly/snowglobeprison
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I take a quick shower and the rest of the day passes by in a blur. When Aurora knocks on my door to probably say goodbye, I pretend not to be there and don’t open it. Although I’m starving, I decide to remain in my room.
Though earlier than usual, I get into bed. When I woke up this morning, I set tomorrow’s alarm for 8:00 a.m. to give myself two hours to eat breakfast and do my hair and makeup before my ceremony. Now that I don’t plan on attending my own coronation, I change it to 6:00 a.m. That way I can be up and out before everyone else and make my getaway.
As I rest in bed staring up at the ceiling, which is dimly lit by a few glow-in-the-dark plastic stars, I try counting sheep to help me slip into that dreamy state. When I get to 127, I switch to naming cities in America I want to explore. Once I can’t remember the names of any more, I imagine what it would be like sightseeing in other countries. Dad’s mentioned too many times to count that there’s no time for stopping and smelling the roses on our Christmas delivery expedition. Of course, we will take a bite out of cookies and pause for a moment to admire each household’s decorations. But that is part of the Santa experience.
I don’t just want to deliver gifts to children in China, I want to see the Great Wall. I don’t just want to fly over Big Ben. I want to pause and listen to it chime, with a satisfaction that soon all my dreams are about to come true.
At some point past midnight, I finally drift off to sleep. When my alarm blares, I hit the snooze button mechanically. Then I shoot up, sitting ramrod straight.
“Today’s the day!” As I say it out loud, my pulse quickens. In under four minutes I’m dressed, this time in my stealth mode of all white, not all black. I am about to sling my go-bag around my shoulder when I accidentally get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Maybe an extra couple of minutes for makeup isn’t such a bad idea, I think, after seeing the circles under my eyes.
After I’ve applied foundation, eyeshadow and mascara, I consider grabbing a snack bar in the kitchen. But I decide against it. Better to avoid being seen. Besides, I bet Finn can whip up a fresh breakfast of Belgium waffles at the diner. I make a mental note to add Belgium to the list of countries I want to visit. Then I can compare Finn’s version to the original. A pang of sadness surprises me as I think about saying goodbye to Finn. I hadn’t thought about having to leave him behind too. My quick stop at his family’s diner is something I won’t skip.
I take a deep breath and finally slip on my go-bag, with the magical snow globe nestled snuggly in the center. Ten minutes later I’ve managed to sneak past the few elves up already. I move in stealth mode as I slink along the hallway until I find Tiny snoring as his body rests against a pile of stuffed animals. He’s curled up in a ball, reminding me of a furry igloo. I rub behind his ears as I whisper for him to get up.
Then I take out his red-and-green-striped collar and attach it to him. It isn’t until I mention the word “treat” that he rises and follows me. We make our way to the control room of The Simulation Center.
I look into the drawer I saw Jolly use the other day. Since I don’t know which key will open the barn with the sleighs, I grab the entire keychain full of keys. Soon I am standing outside the barn. Once I figure out the correct key, I undo the lock and pull back both sliding doors.
Tiny whines as I hook him up to one of the non-magical sleighs. “I know it’s early, boy. But I’ll get you a treat at the diner.”
I lift the lid to the bench seat and stow my go-bag inside. With care, I place one blanket to the left, right, and above the bag. I don’t want the crack in the snow globe to spread from any bumps along the way—or worse, to shatter all together.
Then I lead Tiny out of the barn. The sleigh glides along behind him, hardly making a sound. Once the double doors are closed, I hook the chains back up and lock them. However, I don’t want to take the time to return the keys so I drop the keychain in the snow next to the lock. Hopefully, Jolly will think he dropped it after locking up the barn.
“Now, Tiny—” I begin as I rub behind his ear. “—we’re going to go on a little trip.” I climb aboard the sleigh and steer Tiny north for a few minutes before heading west, the real direction we need to go. That way hopefully fewer prying eyes will see us. Taking the official exit isn’t in this plan. And, after my discovery yesterday, I know I don’t need to.
Tiny slows as we near the magical barrier. I jump down and walk next to Tiny, placing my hand on his shoulders as he clomps on all fours.
We near the shimmering wall. “Let’s go for it, Tiny.” He moans, but obeys. We keep walking and nothing stops us. For about ten seconds it again feels like I’m pushing my way through water, although I can breathe normally.
Suddenly, we are on the other side. It takes everything in me to not look back. Instead, I face my future head on. It’s finally time to make my great escape.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
After I hop back onto the sleigh, I pull out the notes I’ve taken. Over time I gathered details about the path we will take and what it’s like. As Tiny and I head toward town, we are flanked by trees with more than just a light dusting of snow.
Tiny whimpers as we veer left. I glance back for a moment as I lose sight of Winter Wonderland. “There’s no turning back now. “Yah!” I shout, and Tiny picks up the pace.
Craning my neck, I look to the right as we pass an opening in the tree line. The path lo
oks just like ours. A few minutes later there is another opening, this one on the left. I remember what Finn said about the journey being a straight shot to town from my home, and ignore the urge to explore. I’m on a mission, I remind myself.
The trees change from touching each other’s branches to growing amounts of space between them. We slow our pace when I see the edge of the forest.
“Maybe we should walk from here,” I tell Tiny. Then I leave the sleigh parked just out of sight. If my plan goes off without any hiccups, I’ll need Finn to find and return the sleigh to my home.
As we exit the forest and step onto a sidewalk, I imagine the two of us are quite the sight, a girl and her full-grown polar bear on an early morning stroll down the sidewalk of this small town. In the distance is a mountain with homes built into the incline. Before me there are shops of all kinds and meandering streets with an occasional stopped car at a red light.
We pass by the post office that doubles as a small convenience store. There is a sign in the window reminding people they can pick up toothpaste at the same time they get their stamps. I’m shocked at how small this building is, considering how much mail is delivered here for Santa.
There is a slit in the door for people to slide their outgoing mail through. I press my face against the cool glass and peer inside. Three aisles are filled with packaging and toiletries. Past them is a counter. I can barely make out a sign on the left side labeled “Town.” There is one large shelf, half full of boxes. The sign on the right is labeled “Santa.” The five shelves are overflowing with bags of mail. I don’t envy the mailman’s delivery today, the last one before Christmas. I’m sure it’s the biggest one all year. I pull my gaze away as I see people nearby, and I begin walking again.
“Merry Christmas,” a man says to a woman on the other side of the street. He waves with thick gloved hands. They both stop walking and begin chatting.
I worry about Tiny being spotted and pick up my pace. Suddenly, a young woman with dark brown corkscrew hair spilling out of her knit hat exits a shop about thirty feet ahead of me. She locks the door, then heads in our direction.
“Tiny, sit,” I say in my most commanding tone. Instead of sitting down, Tiny plops down like he’s going to take a nap. Maybe she’ll mistake him for pile of snow. I stand there between my giant pet and the approaching woman, staring at her as she nears.
“Merry Christmas.” She smiles at me.
“Merry Christmas!” I accidentally shout at her. When her eyes glance at Tiny, I am ready to begin an explanation of how harmless he is.
“Hi, Tiny.” She blows him a kiss, then keeps walking.
I look back and forth between the woman and Tiny, then laugh. Guess Tiny’s and my life isn’t as secret as I thought, at least in this town.
“Come on, you big puffball.” Tiny groans as he rises. I wonder how she recognized him, since he looks just like any other polar bear. Maybe it’s his collar used to hook him to my sleigh. Or maybe she recognizes me and assumes that’s my pet.
We pass a closed barber shop. There is a white Christmas tree inside covered in hair-cutting-themed ornaments. Next is another place closed for the holiday. The sign says they take visitors on tours to see the Northern Lights.
The scent of waffles and something tangy lets me know we are nearing the diner. Outside the front door is a parking lot full of snowmobiles and cars. To the right is a roped-off area. There are paw prints scattered all over this snow-covered section. At the front is a wood bar. It reminds me of the place in old west where cowboys hooked their horses to, except here it’s sled-pulling dogs.
Tiny wanders around the animal area haphazardly, sniffing and pawing at the ground. For a moment, I consider telling him to wait here, but if someone tried to park their dogs next to Tiny that wouldn’t work out too well. Even if the humans in town know how friendly Tiny is, that’s not something easily explained to territorial sled dogs.
“Follow me,” I tell my faithful friend. We walk around the side of the diner to the back. “I won’t be long.” I give Tiny a rub behind the ear and make promises of treats. He lies down between the trash dumpster and the wall with a huff. A minute later I walk through the front door.
“Is Aurora or Finn working this morning?” I ask the waitress with snowflake earrings as she brings me to a table.
“Yes, hon, although they are swamped in the back. This is our busiest day of the year. But I’ll let Finn know you are here.” She winks at me, drops a sheet of paper on the table, and walks away.
I blush. Does she suspect there is something between Finn and me? Pulling the paper up to cover my red cheeks, I glance at today’s menu. The top reads, “Christmas Eve specials available all day until closing.” To my surprise, there is everything from waffles to sushi.
I look at where the price should be, but there isn’t any listed next to sushi. As I scan the menu, I don’t see dollar signs anywhere. Then I notice at the bottom in bold red letters is the explanation. "Christmas Eve Prices: dance, compliment others, help out in back, or sing for your meal. No cash accepted."
The waitress comes over. I notice her bracelet matches her snowflake earrings. “Even though it’s breakfast time, we have a full menu all day.”
“Sushi, the rainbow roll,” I answer without hesitation. And then I ask, “Is this for real? Singing for your meal?”
“That's a Christmas tradition here for over a decade.” She scribbles my order on her notepad. Without looking up, she speaks. “It's wonderful for those who can't afford a good meal on the holiday. And a little fun even for those who can afford it.”
It's at this time Finn finally joins us. His apron is covered with what looks like specks of red and green frosting. There are bits of flour on his face. His expression is one of surprise, but I can’t tell if he thinks me being here is a good or bad surprise.
In each hand is a mug. After he sits, he places one drink before himself and then slides the other one over toward me.
I inhale. “Yum, my favorite.” The apple aroma wafts toward me. I stare at the drink to avoid eye contact with Finn. What will he think about me now that I abandoned my family? Maybe coming here to say goodbye wasn’t the right idea. Before he can tell me to go back to Winter Wonderland, I begin speaking. “Um, I had to leave Tiny out back. Is there somewhere else I should hide him?”
“Hide him?” Finn chuckles. “You can move him to the front of the store with a sign saying his name. We’d get even more business today, not that we need it.”
“So, everyone in town knows about Tiny?” I bite my lip, wondering what else this town knows about.
“Of course. But they’ve never had a chance to meet him,” he whispers as if it’s a secret.
“As long as he doesn’t scare any employees going out back to take out the trash, he’ll be fine where he is.” Then again, maybe I should move him to the sled dog section.
“It’s more likely one of my co-workers would scare Tiny then the other way around,” Finn says, then chuckles.
There are a few moments of quiet between us, although the entire diner is filled with a dense chatter of conversations. There are only a few empty seats left.
“I didn't think you and Aurora would be working here today. I thought you’d be celebrating with your family.” I blow on my apple cider, then use the spoon on the table to stir it to keep from wringing my hands under the table.
“This is the busiest day of Dad’s diner. And we love to spend it celebrating with the community.” Finn takes a sip from his drink.
Just then Aurora joins us. “Princess Claus,” she says, then covers her mouth. “I mean Noelle.”
She stretches her arms open wide, and I stand and give her a hug. She embraces me, then pulls back and frowns. “I’m surprised you’re here on Christmas Eve. Aren't you busy tonight? I mean helping your father. And isn't this the big year where you get to go with him on the sleigh?”
“Just had to grab some more food for Tiny.” I hold back a grimace as I lie.
Finn doesn't say anything, but looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
“Do you need a hand waitressing?” I offer, making sure to sound upbeat. “I have a little time before I have to get back and I need to pay for my meal, so to speak.”
Just then the waitress comes over. “Aurora, can you help me with the table of ten in the back?”
“Sure. On my way,” Aurora answers, but before she goes, she gives me another hug. “I'll be back here in a bit.”
After she shuffles off, I glance at Finn. “Need help in the back? I could wash dishes.” What I don’t confess is it would be my first time.
“We get more help than we could ever need on Christmas Eve. The back is more packed with helpers than here with those eating.” Finn leans back and bites his lip, his eyes narrowing.
I crane my neck to get a glance through a window in the door leading to the kitchen. There is an assortment of young and old doing every job imaginable from rolling dough to drying plates. Finn’s movement catches my attention.
Finn leans forward conspiratorially and speaks in a volume so low I can barely hear him. “What’s that?” He looks down with his eyes but doesn’t move his head.
“My go-bag.” I cringe. Why hadn’t I just said it was a backpack? I consider pretending I’m going back to Winter Wonderland in a bit. But then I remember I need him to return my sleigh. I should share my getaway plan with Finn sooner rather than later.
“It's all I brought with me, well, that and the back-up sleigh along with Tiny.” I make a mental note to ask him if there are any flights out of town leaving today.
“I’ll have to put up a sign out front. Don’t fear the bear.” He chuckles.
