Chapter Four

Aster

This sucked. This sucked sugar balls. It sucked cotton candy. It sucked candy canes. It sucked tinsel. It just plain sucked.

I couldn't believe Santa did this to me. I know it was a law—the law—whatever, and I know he said he had no choice, but also, he just did it—boom. No saying goodbye, no getting my things in order, no making sure people didn't think I fell off a mountain, no telling me what was going to happen. Nothing. One minute, I was in his office drinking hot cocoa and the next, boom, I was on a shelf.

There had to be a loophole, right? There was always a loophole. Look at his naughty list. Every year it started, volumes and volumes long, and by the end, miraculously, everyone was off the naughty list, with the exception of a few criminals. Why? Because there were loopholes, and he made sure to tap into each and every one of them to help people, young and old alike.

So, why exactly couldn't he help me? Because he didn't want to. That was the only logical conclusion. He'd even said he was sorry and, silly me, I believed him. Or maybe I was being unfair to him. I was the one who messed up…maybe I didn't put the salt in the sugar container, but I was the one who mixed it all together, baked it, and served it without one stitch of quality control. What if it had been something other than salt? What if it had been dangerous?

Crap. I deserved this, as much as I hated it. But a little forgiveness would've been nice.

It wasn't like I was a naughty elf. From the time I was little, I did exactly what I was supposed to. I followed the rules. I followed the path to my career of choice without veering off once. I had my dreams, and I achieved them.

Yes, I made a mistake, a huge mistake, a mistake the size of Santa's route, but it was not an intentional act. And now, here I was, hours into the night—or maybe morning—just staring out my porcelain eyes at the tea towels across from me, not even sure what was beside me. Having my eyes fixed in one direction was weird, and having only the emergency exit sign as light wasn't helping any.

I-I wasn't sure I could handle this. Something had to give. Maybe I'd be lucky, and one of the kids with their sticky fingers would accidentally drop me on the floor. Put an end to my misery.

What kind of a way to think about things was that? This was only a temporary state. Santa said something about finding my mate, and poof, all would be right in the world. Maybe my mate loved antiques, and that's why I was here. Maybe he'd show up tomorrow, and my world would be filled with glitter and sprinkles and sugar once more.

"Please stop." It was Ernie. How was he here and where? It felt different than when Santa spoke to me. His voice wasn't in my head. He was in the room.

"Ernie?" I still couldn't see him, but the next thing I knew, I was being picked up, staring straight at his nose. Not the visual I'd hoped for.

"Listen. I came to apologize."

"Apologize for what?" I asked, not knowing why I was attempting to talk since no words came out. He couldn't hear me—except he did. Did that mean others could as well? Or maybe that was an elf thing. It had to be an elf thing.

"Listen, when I put the salt in the sugar, I thought I was doing you a favor."

"What kind of favor was that? Making me a trinket, possibly forever? That's not a favor." Ernie and I had always been the best of friends. Not in a million years would I have suspected that he'd sabotage me like that.

"I heard—I heard that this was a way elves found their ‘one.' And you've been alone for so long, I thought—I thought you'd be transported down here, and, the very first day, someone would pick you up, say, ‘You're mine,' take you home, and boom! You'd fall in love, have lots of babies, and forget all about the North Pole."

He was talking a mile a minute, the way he did when he got nervous. In this case, he had every reason to be.

"I'll come back in the morning, when they're open, and I'll buy you, and then we'll figure things out."

"Just take me now!" Every second here felt like hours.

"I can't do that. That would be stealing, and if I steal, what's gonna happen to me? I'll be sitting on the shelf next to you, and then I can't help you at all."

"Stupid logic." Accurate, but stupid.

"Listen, I really am sorry."

"I know you are. I just— This is awful, and it's not all your fault. I should have paid attention. Salt and sugar aren't the same. There would've been hints all along, but I was too busy singing and rolling and frosting to notice." For some reason, I wasn't even mad at him. I wished he hadn't done it, sure. But anger? No. He meant well, even if he showed it in one of the most horrible ways ever.

"I'm really gonna make it right. I'll be here as soon as they open," he promised. "Well, after I get my to-do list done. I don't want to get in trouble there either."

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

He set me back down, this time on a slightly higher shelf. Now I was looking at cookbooks. There were worse things. Or maybe it was knowing he was coming back, making everything sparkly—or at least more sparkly.

In the morning, the old woman came through again, and customers filtered in shortly after. Each time the door opened, I crossed my fingers and toes that it was Ernie. Well, I didn't really cross them, since they didn't move, but the thought was there. Then, I heard him. Ernie was here.

The old woman said hello, and Ernie's voice echoed back, "Hello." It was better than any Christmas carol ever.

But before he came down the aisle, some little fingers wrapped around me.