1. Wink

1

Wink

M y ass was falling asleep.

I wiggled back and forth, trying to get feeling back, then recrossed my legs the other direction. I’d been sitting on this stool outside Santa’s office for an hour, and I couldn’t decide if this was part of my punishment or if he was just too busy to see me. Because of course he was busy, and he absolutely had more important things to do tonight of all nights than to scold me. Tomorrow was Christmas!

A stab of guilt tried to weasel its way into my heart for all the harm I’d caused, but I brushed it aside.

“Jerk,” I muttered under my breath, but it was a total lie, of course. Santa Claus wasn’t a jerk at all. He was just as jolly and generous as all the songs claimed him to be—but he was also my boss, and that meant he expected me to follow the rules.

The outer door opened, and Santa’s assistant, Brickle, stuck her head out. “Wink? Santa will see you now. ”

“Ooh, lucky me,” I grunted sarcastically as I peeled myself off the stool, shaking first one foot then the other to get the blood flowing again, but the movement set the little brass bells on the toes of my slippers tinkling, and I scowled harder. It was yet another reminder of how out of place I was here. Nobody ever scowled at the North Pole.

Once I was through the door, Brickle backed out and shut the door softly, giving us some privacy. All it did was make me feel trapped, though, especially when I caught the stern glare Santa was giving me, seated behind his gargantuan desk. His signature jacket was off, hanging on the back of his chair, and the sleeves of his white button-up were rolled to the elbows.

“Wink, we talked about this,” he said, not a single bit of festive joy in the chiding tone he gave me. “You promised me that this wouldn’t happen again.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” I said defensively, my cheeks heating with irritation. “All I said was that I wasn’t a fan of hot cocoa. How was I supposed to know it would start a riot in the workshop?” Elves were usually known to be happy and fun-loving, but I had a tendency to be a little… disruptive. I brought out the worst in everyone.

He sighed, leaning his arms across his desk. He looked tired, his eyes dim and his cheeks too pale. It was the day before Christmas, and the man was overworked. I felt bad for a moment that I’d added to his workload.

Santa slowly pushed up from his chair and walked around the desk. He towered over me, not just because of his stature but also his presence. I wanted so very much to make him proud, but all I ever seemed to do was disappoint him.

He leaned back on the edge of the desk. “How long have you worked in the workshop now?”

“Two years, six months, and three days,” I said .

He grunted, nodding. “And before that, how long were you at the wrapping station?”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening and nervous sweat prickling at the back of my neck. “Three years, ten months, and seventeen days…” I didn’t like where this was headed.

Santa nodded again, his gaze focused on some distant point over my shoulder. “And before that?” he coaxed.

“The bakery, for five years, one month and…” My voice trailed off.

He smoothed a hand down his beard, finally turning his focus on me. “You’re very skilled at everything you do, Wink, truly. Your snow globes are a thing of beauty, but I’m afraid you’re not much of a team player.”

Chagrined, my shoulders crawled up toward my ears. “I don’t mean to cause trouble,” I whispered.

“Really?” Santa reached behind him and grabbed something off his desk and held it up for me to see.

I couldn’t help the snort of laughter that snuck out. Santa, however, was stone-cold sober. “It was a joke!” I defended.

“A joke? You didn’t consider for one second that this kind of prank might be… inappropriate? We make children’s toys!”

The item in question was in fact not a toy for children, but for me. It was a Ken doll that just happened to have an extra-large bulge in his plastic-molded undies, but it wasn’t like I was going to give it to a kid! I think we could all agree that Ken was a dreamboat; the only thing missing was some important anatomy, so I made the correction. It was strictly for my own personal viewing pleasure. Geez, Santa had no sense of humor at all.

“I made it for myself,” I grumbled, pouting with my arms crossed. Who was to say dolls were just for kids? There was nothing wrong with a grown man (or elf) appreciating something whimsical .

Santa dropped the doll back on his desk. “Mm-hm, and what about that joke I overheard you telling in the lunchroom, about the three reindeer who walked into the bar?”

I sputtered. “That was just… I mean… Did you hear the punchline?” I asked without much hope.

His bushy brows lowered. Why oh why did I have to work for the strictest Santa of the bunch?

His disappointment was so much worse than if he were angry. “Look, I’m sorry, Wink, but you’re just not cut out for the workshop.”

“Okay, so put me in a different department. I’m willing to do anything.” I was starting to feel an uneasy sense of desperation creeping in.

“Like where?” he asked with a touch of exasperation. “You’ve already worked in every department we have, and none of them have been a good fit for you.” He sighed heavily and walked back around his desk, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small leather bag. “I really am sorry, Wink, but I’m afraid I have to let you go.”

My fists clenched at my sides, and I felt my anger rising. Instead of apologizing and begging for another chance, I opened my mouth and snapped, “This is bullshit! You need me! It’s almost Christmas!” I knew immediately that I had crossed a line.

Oops!

Nostrils flaring, Santa’s beard quivered in outrage as he sputtered, his face turning a deep shade of ruby-red. I’d never seen him this angry. “Cursing is not allowed!” he thundered. “Wink, you are very, very naughty.”

I gasped, rearing back. Naughty? Me?

“My workshop is family-friendly, and it has become clear to me that you don’t fit in at the North Pole. I think we will all be better off without your kind of help. You’re not the only one who had to be let go. All the Santas agreed that some changes needed to be made, and I’m afraid you’re just too disruptive for our needed level of efficiency. You’re fired.”

“Fired?! For how long?” I asked, my heart like a jackhammer in my chest.

“For forever.” He pulled on the leather bag’s drawstring and reached inside, and when he withdrew his hand, I saw he held something glittery and golden in his hand. He stepped right up to me, staring down with a look of regret. “I’m truly sorry, Wink, but I know in my heart that there is somewhere else out there for you. You are destined for another life, a better one, and I truly hope you find it. You have until next Christmas to prove to me that you’re made for something more, but even more importantly, to prove it to yourself.”

Santa opened his palm and blew a great gust of air, sending the golden powder raining down on me. It caught in my lashes and tingled where it touched my skin.

“I—what?” I sneezed, then blinked, then with a firm tug in my chest, my whole body tilted sharply to the side. I was falling! But instead of hitting the floor, I just kept right on going, twisting and turning through the ether, a swirl of light and color painted on the inside of my eyelids.

It was strangely beautiful, and instead of feeling fear or anger, I felt… calm, and a sense of blissful peace swaddled me in its embrace.

That was until I jerked to a stop and found myself unable to move. Surrounded by prickly pine needles, I was shocked to find that I was no longer made of flesh and blood, but ceramic, and I was currently dangling from the saddest looking Christmas tree I’d ever seen.

Well, this sucks.