1. Sparkle

ONE

SPARKLE

"Are you ready?" I whispered to my friend, Castien.

"You sure we should be doing this?" he replied as he hid behind a mound of snow and tugged his hat over his ears.

Damn. I should have told him to remove the bell. I put a finger to my lips. Shifters had super-sensitive hearing, even when they took their fur. If they were aware we elves were pulling pranks, they'd surround us and bow their heads, using their antlers as a barrier. And that was no fun—for the elves.

"Yes."

The new year, when everyone returned from vacation and life was a little slower after Christmas mayhem, was a time for mischief-making at the North Pole and especially in Christmas Village. It was a tradition, one I was proud to uphold.

"But won't they be annoyed?" Castien screwed up his face as the snow drifted over us. "An angry reindeer is a reindeer I don't want to be around."

So many questions! Castien was a new hire and not used to the ways of the elves. Not just the elves working for Santa #1 but all the Santas in the village.

The reindeer shifters had pranked me and my fellow elves in the past, and the ones we were playing tricks on were, like Castien, new to Christmas Village, having passed rigorous tests, both in the classroom and in the air.

They were with their trainer, Dasher, Santa #1's head reindeer. But Dasher had been called away, and the other beasts were milling about in the training facility, the huge cavernous warehouse-like building where they practiced their landings.

"Take off your hat," I mouthed to Castien. The jingling of that damned bell would alert the shifters we were nearby. "Leave it outside."

"Won't Dasher or the Santas punish us?" Castien was having doubts about our little stunt, but elves had a reputation for being tricksters. Everyone at the North Pole knew that.

And this was a competition. The best, most innovative prank won a prize; usually we got our name emblazoned on a billboard for a year. And I was determined to win.

"It's fine." Beckoning Castien to follow me, I crawled through the snow. Shuffling along on my belly, not wanting the shifters to scent me, I slithered toward the building. Luckily, the reindeers were inside, otherwise the wind would have alerted them to our presence, and the snowfall muffled our movements and coated us in white. Perfect camouflage.

The building had an earth floor, and we'd camouflaged our green-and-gold uniforms with brown coats and pants.

The reindeer were pawing the ground, hoping to find lichen or moss. Not wanting them to see me, I slithered behind hay bales while I studied their tiny tails, imagining their wild cousins in the summer when the air was infested with mosquitoes and they were unable to flick the buzzing, biting insects away. Ewww. I hated mosquitoes.

Castien inched over the ground beside me, huddling behind equipment and turning up his nose at the dirt on his hands.

"Ready?" I mouthed.

He nodded.

Imitating Santa #1's voice—that was Castien's special skill—Castien yelled, "All vacations are canceled for the rest of the year, and your performances are under review."

The reindeer's heads jerked up, their antlers covered in velvety fur catching the light.

"Shift immediately and wait for further instructions."

One by one, they shifted and shivered, huddling together, while accusations flew around the group.

"This is your fault."

"I told you to set an alarm each morning."

"You let the group down."

"Nothing to do with me."

"Gotcha! I won!" I leaped up and pulled my cap out of my pocket, the bell jingling in triumph. But instead of the shifters heaving a sigh of relief and reluctantly clapping my success, they shouted that I'd messed up.

Castien whimpered, saying he was going to be kicked out of the North Pole.

"Guys, you're supposed to tell me well done." I whipped out my phone, to snap a pic of them. "Lighten up. This is a North Pole tradition."

Castien was on his knees, his arms raised in surrender, saying it was all my idea. That was true, but if we won the competition, I'd suggest he not be on the billboard with me.

"What's going on?" Dasher appeared. I liked the shifter and had worked on his sleigh the last two Christmases, having been promoted to Santa #1's team.

"We snuck up and caught your newbies. They didn't scent us or anything." I jumped up and down, clapping. "We're going to win."

"Who's ‘we'?"

I swiveled my head, but Castien had vanished. No billboard for him!

"Didn't you get the memo, Sparkle?" Dasher told the new recruits to go inside and get dressed.

My first thought was, " People still send memos? "

"Ummm, I guess not." My voice was higher than usual as my excitement waned, and I wondered if I should have skedaddled with Castien.

"Santa #1 warned everyone on our team that the usual Trickers' Competition was a thing of the past because there were some injuries last year."

"Oh." Now my voice was hardly audible above the wind, and the adrenaline that had kept me warm dissipated. My head bobbled as I shivered and the bell tinkled, but rather than sounding celebratory, the ringing had an ominous undertone.

"Sorry, I missed that." I grabbed my phone and scrolled through the mountain of unopened emails. Was that where the memo lurked? I'd never received one before.

Dasher jerked his head toward the main building, and I walked inside, my tummy flip-flopping. But Dasher was a good guy and so was Santa #1. The punishment wouldn't be severe. I'd have to clear snow for the next few months at most. Maybe get a tongue lashing.

"I have to inform Santa #1. Check your phone in the morning for messages." He glanced outside. "Who else was with you?"

"Just me," I said meekly, my head bowed. I wasn't going to dump Castien in it. He was a newbie, and I was the seasoned North Pole operative. I thought of myself that way. It made me feel more important.

"Hmmm. I commend you for taking responsibility. But you're suspended until this is resolved."

I couldn't sleep and stayed awake all night worrying about my punishment. Elves in Santa #1's team stayed in Christmas Village their entire working lives because once you got the gig, you were here until retirement. It was what all elves aspired to.

I watched as my friends and colleagues streamed past the window on their way to work. Castien gave me a half wave, and I returned it with a thumbs-up.

The message arrived mid-morning, Santa #1 not being an early riser, especially in January.

When I walked into Santa's office, he had his hands steepled under his chin while Dasher stood at his side.

"Sparkle, how many misdemeanors do you have on your record?" He was studying a tablet, but Santa #1 was a technophobe, and he wasn't wearing his glasses, so he might not be able to read the display.

"Ummm, not many, Santa."

There was the time I set up a snowball machine that was supposed to pelt the gnomes but instead hit the Santas as they headed to a meeting. And I couldn't turn it off. I got shouted at for that.

But there was another incident when two shifters were asleep in their fur and I lassoed their tiny tails. That was an oops.

There were other minor infractions, but they were so inconsequential as not to be worth mentioning.

Santa tweaked his beard. "Not according to this."

Damn, Santa had upped his tech skills.

"Oh."

"You have a habit of causing havoc, Sparkle." He tapped the desk.

I shrugged. "I'm an elf, Santa. It's in my blood." I jiggled my hips. "A little trick here and a smidgen of mischief there."

"I'm sorry, but I can't make an exception for you. I've banished employees to the farthest corner of the universe for less than this."

"Have you?" I looked at Dasher for confirmation who gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. "I hadn't noticed."

There was that old tale about naughty elves being turned into figurines unless they found their mate by Christmas. And if they failed, the figurines were whisked to the following Christmas to try again. Or did they become an inanimate object forever and ever? My mind was racing.

Hoping instead of myth or legend, it wasn't a curse, I gulped, my knees knocking.

"Because your mind is always on the next trick or joke."

What would I do if he sent me away? I was no one and nowhere if I wasn't Santa #1's elf.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson."

"I won't do it again, Santa." I ran around to his side of the desk and grabbed his hand. From the corner of my eye, I noted my elf friends at the window, frowns etched on their faces, a sign they were about to cast a spell. They had my back. I'd be fine.

"It's with a heavy heart that I have to fire you, Sparkle. Maybe by next Christmas I'll figure out…" He coughed and cleared his throat. "Figure out… figure…" He gulped a mouthful of water. "Figure?—"

His voice appeared to come from a long tunnel, almost like an echo. The room spun around, and with one hand, I grabbed Santa's hand. The wind increased, becoming a blizzard, snow crystals filled the air, and the room disappeared.

Around and around we went, the furniture vanishing along with Santa and Dasher. Gray walls were replaced by triangular-shaped trees with snow sprinkled on their branches, houses with Christmas wreaths on the doors, and kids making snowmen.

I landed on my feet with a thump in a snowdrift that reached my chest. However I'd gotten here, the journey had frozen my limbs, and everything appeared to be so big. I stood, unmoving under a bush that was ten times taller than me. I couldn't move my face or my hands to scratch an itch.

A boy leaned over the fence, his face beaming.

"Dad, look. Dan's got a garden gnome."