Top Elf Page 5

  I missed the man’s response because they turned off down another hallway and I was pushed ahead toward the staircase. I had to quickly slip around other elves to get to the edge of the crowd and almost tripped down the stairs when I finally pushed free of the current. I clung to the handrail and looked down.

  The grand staircase was the most beautiful part of The Workshop. Two intertwined spirals wrapped around each other in a double helix, like DNA, with a slide along the edge of both staircases that you could ride all the way down from the top to the bottom. (Most people didn’t, because it was very fast and very scary.) The spirals had thin, flat bridges connecting them to every floor across the wide-open space between the hallways and the stairs. Huge decorations and giant glowing Christmas ornaments hung suspended in the air all the way down, and it was easy to get distracted staring at them since they were redesigned and replaced every month.

  Today, I didn’t have a chance to get distracted. The Workshop was even more crowded than usual because of all the visitors here to see the Trials, and the crowd was pushing me down the stairs so fast I would have fallen if we hadn’t been packed together so tightly.

  When I got to the cafeteria, I slipped around the crowds to get in line for my favorite restaurant (Oh Bring Us Something Other Than Figgy Pudding) and started scanning through the menu even though I already knew I was going to buy the reindeer nuggets (chicken nuggets shaped like reindeer, not made of reindeer, obviously). Somebody shoved me forward into the human in front of me, but I caught myself on their back and pushed back up. They pretended they didn’t notice, and when I turned around, I realized it was Buzz’s crew. Of course.

  “I’m pretty much the reason we got first place.” Buzz was bragging to the group of elves who were always tagging along after him. I couldn’t believe he was still talking about the first trial. “I convinced Kurt to sneak in early with me, and we scoped out the mailroom. We got lucky and even saw them testing the robots. Figured it all out before the trial even started.” His crew laughed in a gross, mean way, and my face turned bright red. They CHEATED. Not that I should be surprised.

  I ordered my food from an elf with an eye patch and a bionic hand that could change into any kitchen utensil. He had worked in the cafeteria so long that everyone just called him Chef.

  “I’ll have the reindeer nuggets,” I said.

  He nodded. “Good choice, kid. But be careful—they’re spicy.” That’s what he always said. Everyone was “kid,” and everything was always spicy, even when it wasn’t.

  “Just how I like ’em,” I said. He giggled his high, tinny laugh and pushed on some nuggets with his spatula hand. The slats widened, shifting the spatula to form a little grill. The bars grew bright red to cook the nuggets on top, too.

  There weren’t any open tables near the edge, so I wandered deep into the center.

  “You don’t understand, Sally,” I heard Klaus grumble. I jerked my head around and realized I was only a few feet from their table. I quickly lowered my head. I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but … I found a seat very close so I could hear the conversation.

  “You three were never going to be Santa. Dad did this because he doesn’t think I can handle it.” Klaus didn’t sound sad, like I expected. He sounded excited. “These contests are the perfect way to prove that I can. And I will. Obviously.”

  I took a bite of my reindeer nugget. It wasn’t spicy.

  “I don’t know about obviously,” Sally replied. I heard her book slam shut, which she only did when she was irritated. “I’ve never seen Kurt be bad at anything he actually tries to do well.”

  “Yeah, but when was the last time you saw him try? He’s only competing for some sort of stupid joke. He’ll get bored eventually.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe the joke is that he’s going to win. Either way, Bertrand is a better mechanic than any of us.”

  Klaus paused. “Yeah, I guess Bertrand has a shot, too,” he said. But he didn’t sound like he believed it.

  I heard a small voice groan. “You’re only saying that because you don’t want to hurt my feelings.” I hadn’t realized Bertrand was at the table, but his voice was unmistakable. “I have just as much of a chance as any of you.”

  “That’s what I said.” Klaus sounded like he was talking to a little kid, which just made Bertrand angrier.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do.” There was a moment of tense silence, because everyone knew he didn’t.

  “Fine!” Bertrand said. “Treat me like a baby if you want. I’m not helping you in any more challenges. Even if there are teams.”

  “That’s stupid.” Klaus was still dismissing him. “We know each other best. It makes sense to stick together when we can.”

  “No, you only know yourself best.” I heard Bertrand push angry air out of his nose. “And I don’t care. If you want to be Santa, you can do it on your own. I’m going to prove that I’m a better Santa than all of you.” I heard Bertrand’s heavy footsteps as he walked away—he was stomping—and the pages of Sally’s book flipping back open in the silence that followed.

  “What about you?” Klaus asked after a while.

  “What about me?”

  “You think Kurt and Bertrand could beat me. What about you?”

  There was a short pause before Sally answered. When she spoke, she sounded like she was choosing her words carefully: “I’m not worried about winning.”

  “You don’t want to be Santa?”

  “I didn’t say that. But Bertrand’s right; it’s better if we don’t team up anymore.”

  I heard the dishes on Klaus’s tray clatter as he jerked it off the table.

  “Great. Glad you both want to abandon me.”

  “We’re not abandoning you, drama king. And if we were, it would be because you act like this.”

  I was already trying not to cry and was relieved when I heard Klaus breathe heavy out of his nose (I guess it was a Claus thing) and walk away. I hated seeing them angry with each other. They were the Clauses! They were supposed to represent the joy of Christmas for all of us!

  I stood up and stepped over to the table where Sally was reading by herself. I set my tray down next to her and looked at her with big eyes. I didn’t see her glance away from her book, but she pushed up her glasses and frowned.

  “Are you going to cry?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, but in a shaky way that really meant probably, yes.

  She smiled a little. “Good. Don’t. You should be happy. Klaus needs to learn what to do when there’s no one to boss around.” She looked up at me for a second. “It’s Ollie, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Can I tell you a secret?”

  I nodded again.

  “You have to promise not to cry.”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t want to be Santa. But I can’t tell anyone else, obviously. A Claus dropping out of the competition is just another story for the news.” Sally flipped to the next page of her book. (How is she reading and talking at the same time? I wondered.) “And my dad keeps telling me how amazing he thinks I would be at the job. I think he wants me to try even more than Klaus. It would break his heart.”

  One little tear rolled down my cheek.

  “You promised!” She flipped a page in her book and smiled.

  “I’m sorry! I’m trying very hard not to cry, I mean it.” I started smiling before I even finished. “I think it was a leftover tear from earlier.”

  “Thanks for listening. I gotta go. Do you want my extra reindeer nuggets?” Sally pushed her tray over to me, and I grabbed the ones that were left. “See you la—”

  But before she could finish, everyone in the cafeteria started yelling and pointing at their phones.

  The next competition was announced!

  “ ‘You have one week to build the best sleigh you can, using any materials available at The Workshop,’ ” Celia read out loud from the official email. Ramp, who had come to our office without aski
ng, was listening with his eyes closed and maybe—definitely—snoring just a little bit.

  “ ‘This includes, of course, assembling a team of reindeer,’ ” Celia continued. “Uh-oh. That means we have to convince them to join us, doesn’t it? I can make a sleigh, sure, but talking to those snooty-snouts is going to be a disaster.”

  “What’s so hard about grabbing some reindeer?” Ramp snapped without opening his eyes. I guess he wasn’t sleeping. “They’re just animals.”

  Celia laughed. “Yeah, and so are we, to them.”

  “Don’t you know about the reindeer, Ramp?” I asked. “Aren’t you a Claus?”

  Ramp shook his head. “I haven’t taken animal husbandry yet, since I am sixteen, and am only in …” He looked at me like I was going to tell him, and paused for too long. “Fourth grade?”

  “High school,” I said. “I think you mean high school.”

  “Ah, yes. I have completed every one of the low schools.”

  “Well, here’s what they didn’t teach you.” Celia flipped over a nearby whiteboard and pulled the cap off a red marker with a satisfying pop. She drew a simple picture of Santa Claus, but young and with a red beard. He was holding a little blue snow globe. The whiteboard hummed a little as it turned on, and the little Santa drawing yawned and stretched. “Kris Kringle Claus was the greatest Christmas scientist in history. He made the Quantum Kringle—”

  “Ah, yes, tell me more about that!” Ramp interrupted. “For example, where does the current Santa keep it? Asking for a friend.”

  Celia paused and looked at him with suspicion. “You already know what it does. And nobody knows where he keeps it. That’s not part of the story.”

  Ramp scribbled down some notes on a piece of paper. “Nobody … knows … where … he keeps it. Got it. Thanks.”

  “But he also raised unique reindeer who can completely ignore gravity.” She doodled a few reindeer; they flipped and twirled around the board. “He started with just a few—eight, obviously—and they passed it on to their kids, who passed it on to their kids, and now all the reindeer in this part of the world can fly. It also sometimes leads to other genetic mutations, like Rudolph’s glowing nose and exceptionally long life-span.” A little doodle Rudolph, hat and all, grumpily corralled the whirling reindeer into two lines. The Santa doodle connected them to a sleigh and then placed the Quantum Kringle into the center console.

  “They help the sleigh get off the ground, but also keep it from running into things while it’s going at light speed. That’s why you need at least eight of them for a sleigh with the Kringle—it’s impossible for a human to think that fast alone. Since we’re just making regular engines, we’ll probably only need three, max.”

  “Each?” I asked.

  Celia nodded. “The letter says this is a solo contest. We each have to make our own sleighs.”

  Ramp frowned. “I still don’t understand what you’re worried about.”

  “Well, the thing is, they know they’re special.” Celia powered down the whiteboard and all the drawings froze in place. “And they know we need them. So they demand a lot.”

  “Plus, they really like flying,” I added. “So it can be hard to get them to sit still and listen. I would like flying, too, though, so I get it.”

  “Yes, yes, we all like flying,” Ramp grumbled. He stood up slowly and started shuffling out of our office. “I guess I’d better get started. All by myself. Just me, alone.”

  “Okay, bye.” Celia was already sketching a sleigh on a blueprint. Ramp sighed heavily. I huffed out air, to tell Celia that she should look back up at me. She did.

  I mouthed, I feel bad.

  She mouthed, About what?

  I pointed at Ramp. She looked at him, then looked back at me.

  You can help him if you want, she mouthed.

  But should we help him? I started mouthing words faster so I could finish before Ramp got to the door. He doesn’t seem like he’s necessarily a nice guy. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s not sixteen at all. If we don’t help him, though, are we jerks? I don’t want to be a jerk. He’s all by himself, you know? Where is he even going to build his sleigh if he can’t use our office? His hotel room? I bet his hotel room is too small to build a sleigh! He’d have to get rid of his bed! IF HE IS REALLY AN OLD MAN, HE HAS TO HAVE A BED, CELIA. WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO???

  Celia stared at me for a second. What? she mouthed. I threw my hands up in the air.

  “Hey, Ramp?” I called out to him, interrupting the slow-motion lift of his hand to the doorknob.

  “Hm? What? Yes?” Ramp turned around, suddenly very quick.

  “You can build your sleigh in here with us, if you want.” I smiled at him. He kept frowning, but nodded.

  “Only if you promise to clean up this mess,” he said, jogging over to us in a tenth of the time it took for him to get to the door. He looked over Celia’s shoulder at the blueprint she was working on. “Where do we start?”

  “I’m not making your sleigh for you.” Celia didn’t look up from her drawing. “So don’t even try.”

  Ramp looked at me expectantly. I tried to avoid eye contact.

  “Uh, I guess … well, I guess you start with the engine.” And I guess I’m going to have to walk you through the whole challenge. Again.

  “Great!” Ramp clapped his hands together and grinned. It was the first smile I had seen from him in a while, which made all the work I had coming feel worth it. “Let’s get to work.”

  I woke up the next morning in a plush seat with a wrench in my hand. I rubbed my eyes and looked around, slowly realizing I’d fallen asleep while working on my sleigh. Celia was already awake and had already showered and changed clothes. She had a welder’s mask on and was welding together spokes for her wheels.

  I heard a growl from under me and leapt out of my seat.

  Celia’s torch clicked off. She lifted her mask up and wiped the sweat off her face, flicking it to the ground. The next growl was even louder without the fire buzzing from the torch.

  “It’s Ramp,” she said, laughing a little at the scared face I was making. “He’s snoring under your sleigh.”

  I peeked under the sleigh’s body, currently held up by cinder blocks. There he was, curled up into a tiny ball. His toupee was sliding off center a little, but something was holding it in place. I glanced down at his baggy jeans and big shoes and remembered how he’d jumped during the first challenge. There’s gotta be something up with his legs, I thought. Now’s my chance to find out.

  I flattened myself down onto the floor and slowly dragged myself under the sleigh as quietly as I could. I stretched my hand out … and closed my fingers around a bit of his jeans at the ankle … and started lifting up …

  “What are you doing?” Ramp snapped. I let go immediately and moved my pinched fingers to the ground.

  “UH … AHA!” I said too loudly, and lifted a hair I’d found on the ground. “I WAS WONDERING WHERE THIS WENT.”

  “You were looking for that hair?”

  “INDEED I WAS.”

  “Well, look quieter.” He turned over and went back to sleep. I pulled myself out from under the car, where Celia was looking at me with a look that said, What was that all about? I tried to look back at her in a way that would explain what I had wanted to do, but I couldn’t think of one, so I just waggled my eyebrows up and down.

  “I had an idea,” Celia said quietly, setting down her welding gear. She fluffed out her dark curls that had been squished by the helmet. “I’ll help both of you with your sleighs, and Ollie can help us with the reindeer. You’re way more patient with them, and I can build the sleighs twice as fast.”

  “Twice as fast?” I frowned. “I don’t know about that. I’m actually very—”

  She gestured to her sleigh. Its body was basically finished … and basically perfect.

  “I’m not saying you can’t do it, Ollie. It just might be a better use of our time.”

  I nodded. She was right. Still,
it meant I’d have to wrangle some reindeer … alone.

  The Stable was really more a palace than a stable. A huge glass dome rivaling the size of the mailroom shone sparkling and beautiful, even with a light dusting of snow. I could see plants inside, but the snow kept me from really making them out. Four clear glass towers spiraled up into the sky on every side, with large open windows on top for the reindeer to fly into. It was big, extravagant, beautiful, and it had no doors.

  Not one door.

  Anyone who couldn’t fly had to climb up a very old rope ladder hanging from one of the tower windows. I took a deep breath, grabbed the first rung, and started to climb.

  After two minutes, I was totally scared. The wind got stronger as I climbed, and the rope ladder started swinging just enough to feel like it was going to snap. I wasn’t even a quarter of the way up yet, and I was ready to give up and go back down. Get some peppermint tea, try again later.

  The rope ladder swung away from the tower, suspended me in the air for a second, and then swung back into the tower, slapping me against the glass. Actually, you know, maybe I shouldn’t be in this competition after all. Who needs that kind of responsibility, anyway? I’ll just let Buzz be Santa.

  Oh, really? You’re just going to let Buzz be Santa? I argued back at myself. And we’ll all just walk around with axes for hands for the rest of our lives?

  He’s not going to make us replace our hands with axes. I’m pretty positive about that, and I’m surprised you would be worried about something so silly, I responded.

  I shook my head and climbed up another rung. Either way, we can’t let him win. One foot in front of the other, right?

  About halfway up, something big and brown slammed into the window next to me, then scrabbled its hooves against the window and kicked back off, floating behind me with a dazed look on its face. A reindeer. She was young—only a little bigger than me, with little stubby horns. Strapped around her head were big flight goggles. They looked adorable.

  “Hi!” the reindeer’s voice box chirped. She was using a more modern voice box than Rudolph’s, with an actual voice that could express things like exclamation points. “Whatcha doin’?”