Selfish Elf Wish (12 page)

“Wow!” Briar says, looking up, spinning around, taking in all the sparkling lights and shiny decorations wound around cases and cases of jewelry, handbags, scarves, makeup, stockings, and probably everything else anyone would ever want to buy. “It’s gorgie!”

“Look, pine trees!” I squeal, and point to a long row of Douglas firs lined up across the middle of the floor. “How do they get them to grow inside?” Each is more elaborate than the next, with tiny lights and silver bows and red shiny balls hanging from their branches. Then I realize what a doofus I must sound like. “Oh right,” I mumble. “They’re Christmas trees.”

“Come on.” Timber laughs at us and tugs on my hand. “Let’s go upstairs. The line is probably ten miles long.”

 

“That’s your idea of an elf?” I ask Timber as we join the long twisty line to Santa’s workshop. Briar and I look at each other and lose it laughing. The “elves” all wear oversize green smocks, red puffy pants, black boots, and long red and green velvet hats that jingle when they walk. What’s even funnier is they’re all different. Some of them are tall, some short, some chubby, some thin. There are white elves with brown hair and brown elves with black hair. There’s even a black elf with blond hair twisted into braids. There are men, there are women. Some are old. Some are young. But none of them look like
actual
elves.

“I thought you said they were small,” Briar says to Kenji.

“These guys are just out-of-work actors,” Kenji says. “Real elves are small.”

“
Real
elves?” I say.

“You don’t believe in elves?” Timber asks.

“I didn’t say that.” I wink at Briar.

A little girl about Bramble’s age turns around to say, “They are real, you know.” Her brown hair is pulled in two pigtails, and she’s missing a front tooth. Her mother glances over her shoulder and gives me a worried look. I smile.

“Of course they’re real,” I tell the girl.

“But they won’t make you any presents if you’re bad,” the girl says.

“That elf has a present for you,” Briar tells the girl, pointing to a big brown-haired guy in a smock strolling our way. Briar grins, one eyebrow cocked, the corner of her mouth twitching. My stomach tightens. “Ask him to look inside his hat,” she says to the girl. When everyone turns toward the “elf” walking our way I see Briar’s lips moving as she flicks her fingers at the “elf’s” head.

“Stop,” I hiss at her, but she ignores me.

The little girl reaches out and tugs on the “elf’s’” smock. “Hey, do you have a present for me in your hat?”

The “elf” smiles, bewildered. “I don’t think so,” he says, but being a good sport he takes off his hat to look inside. A butterfly flutters out and everyone oohs and aahs. The “elf” jumps back. “What the hey?” he says, tossing his cap to the floor.

My grandmother says Briar has a gift for magic if she’d ever choose to use it correctly. It would take me years to learn to conjure up a live animal like that, so I’m not strong enough to counter Briar now. With her coat slung over her arm and everyone’s eyes on the butterfly, Briar surreptitiously points to it, catching it in her spell, and flies it to the girl, where it perches for a moment on her nose. The girl squeals happily but stays still. Then Briar blows and the butterfly takes off, flapping up and away toward red poinsettias on the roof of Santaland.

“Hey!” the girl says. “Where’d it go?”

“I guess it flew away,” says Briar.

“That’s not a real present then,” the girl says, and stamps her foot. Her mother glares at the brown-haired “elf” who’s turning his hat inside out.

“Tough crowd,” Briar mutters.

“How’d you know he had it in there?” Kenji asks Bri.

She shrugs. “I saw him put it there a few minutes ago. I thought it’d be fun to mess with him.”

“Cool,” Kenji says, smiling.

He might think my cousin’s cool, but I’m furious with her. After the other night in Red Hook I can’t believe she’d pull this. The line moves forward and I step close, grabbing her arm. “Don’t do that again,” I whisper in her ear. “Or I’ll tell Grove and you’ll be in deep trouble.”

“You’re a good one to talk, Miss Frog-in-the-throat.”

“That wasn’t in public,” I hiss.

“It was in front of them,” she motions to Kenji and Timber, then she shrugs me off. “Hey look,” she says, pointing to a display. “Ice-skating polar bears and a singing tree.”

 

It takes an hour to get through Santaland and have our picture taken with the man himself. Timber and Kenji try to make us laugh, but I’m fuming the entire way. When we exit and get our photo, Timber holds it out and says, “You look pissed, Zeph.”

Briar grabs it. “Like she’s going to shoot one of Santa’s reindeer.”

I snatch the photo from her. “Shut up.”

“Touchy!” Briar backs away from me.

The little girl who’d been in front of us earlier comes out with her mom. “But I want my butterfly!” she cries.

“It was a trick,” her mom says. “A joke or something. You can’t really have it.”

Tears stream down the girl’s face. “Santa’s elves are mean.”

I look at Briar. “Happy?”

“Want me to fix it?” She wiggles her pointer finger.

I step closer. “Don’t you dare.”

“Fine,” she says, and walks away.

“Hey,” says Kenji, obviously trying to keep the peace. “You guys want to go get some Korean barbecue?”

Briar stops. “I’m up for anything.”

I look over at Timber, but he’s on the phone, so I just shrug.

“I know a great place really close to here,” Kenji tells us. “We can get bibimbap and kimchee, some scallion pancakes.”

“I’ve never had any of that,” Briar says, draping herself over Kenji, who’s a full head shorter than she is. He stands stiff, hands in pockets, blushing slightly. I can’t figure out if he’s like that because he likes Briar as more than a friend or if he’s mortified by her hanging on him.

Timber slips his phone in his pocket and joins us. “Sorry about that.”

“Was it Ari?” I ask. “He said he might meet us later.”

Timber shakes his head. “We going to get some lunch? Go for some Korean Q?” He rubs his hands together.

“Follow me,” Kenji says, and we do.

 

At Kum Gang San, we fill our plates with three kinds of spicy pickled cabbage, tiny smoked fish with chilis, and marinated mushrooms sprinkled with tiny sesame seeds. My mouth’s on fire but I can’t stop eating, especially when the waitress sets a sizzling iron pot with rice, veggies, and a raw egg in front of me.

“That’s the bibimbap,” Kenji tells me as he uses chopsticks to flip over beef searing on the grill in the center of our table. “Mix it with that sauce and some chili paste.”

I do what he says and listen to the rice crackle at the bottom of the hot pot. Timber’s food goes untouched because he’s on his second call since we sat down to eat. This time he looks agitated, pacing by the coat racks.

Kenji focuses on the meat until Timber comes back to the table, then he asks, “You guys want to see a movie after this?”

Timber grimaces. “I don’t think I can.”

“I thought we were all hanging out tonight,” I say, disappointed.

“Sorry. I have to go back to Brooklyn,” he says.

I scoop up a bunch of rice on my chopsticks. “Is everything okay?” I ask, then I take a big bite of the smoky, sweet, spicy food.

“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that ...” He trails off and plucks some meat from the grill. “Bella thinks we should run lines this weekend before rehearsals on Monday. Today is the only time I can do it because I have plans with my mom tomorrow.”

I swallow hard. The rice sticks in my throat and I choke. Briar hits my back and hands me a glass of water. “Here,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“Mr. Padgett gave Bella a key so we can meet at school,” Timber says.

Now I choke on my water and almost spit it on the table.

“Are you going to be mad if I don’t go to the movie with you guys?” Timber asks.

“Why would we be mad?” I ask after gulping more water. “You’re free to do whatever you want.” Briar gives me a pitying look, and even though I’m still really annoyed with her, I’m glad she’s here with me.

“I’d rather be at the movies with you guys,” Timber says. “But Bella’s right. Mr. Padgett took way too long to go through this whole stupid audition thing and now we’ve barely got time to get the first act together and I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

I stab a piece of meat and dip it in the hot sauce. “So go, then. We’re not in charge of you.”

“Okay,” he says, picking at his rice. “I will.”

I pop the meat in my mouth. “Fine,” I say, my eyes watering from the chilis.

FRESH SNOW HAS
fallen like a clean white sheet over Prospect Park while we were on the train back to Brooklyn. New York feels almost cozy when it snows. People come out, bundled up and smiling, dragging kids on sleds. The sound of laughing and happy shouts replace rumbling cars and belching buses. By the time Kenji, Briar, and I get off the train, people have filled the park. They cross-country ski across the hidden ball diamonds and soccer fields, sled down the hills, throw snowballs, and build snowmen. Briar grabs my hand. “Come on!” she says, tugging me toward the snowy meadow.

I hang back on the slushy sidewalk. “I’m not really in the mood.”

Instead of letting me go, Briar holds my hand and wraps her other arm around my shoulders. “Poor you,” she says, giving me a hug. This is when it’s great to have Briar with me. No matter how mad I can get at her, she always makes it up to me. When I said I didn’t feel like going to the movie after Timber left the restaurant, she said she didn’t either. When I said I wanted to go home, she said she did, too. “I wouldn’t be able to stand it,” Briar says. “I’d have to turn her into a toad.”

Kenji leans against a black lamppost and laughs. “Just like a fairy tale. Only usually the prince gets turned into a frog.”

“You better watch out,” Briar tells him. “You might be next.”

“Me?” Kenji asks, blinking. “What did I do?”

Briar puts one fist on her hip but keeps the other arm around me. “Nothing,” she says. “That’s the problem.”

“What’d you expect me to do?” Kenji asks. “I couldn’t stop Timber.”

“You guys,” I say. “He’s not my boyfriend. He can do whatever he wants to do.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Briar says. “I’m talking about Kenji.”

Kenji looks at me, helpless, but I don’t know what Briar’s getting at either. “Are you really mad at him?” I ask.

Briar looks up into the graying sky. “I don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Well,” I say. “We can go home or hang out in the park or call Ari ...”

“No,” says Briar. “I mean, I don’t know what this is. What we’re doing.” She motions between herself and Kenji. “Why do you hang out with me all the time?”

Kenji pushes himself away from the lamppost. “I was under the impression that you liked hanging out with me.”

“I do. That’s my point,” says Briar.

He shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “Then why are you pissed?”

“Because I realized today that you’re just like Timber,” she says. “You can’t make up your mind! But I’m not like Zephyr. I’m not waiting around forever.”

Kenji’s eyebrows lift. “Waiting around for what? I have no idea what you’re talking about, Bri. I thought we were friends.”

“That’s it? Friends?” she asks.

A slow flush crawls up Kenji’s neck and over his ears. “You know ...” He squirms, kicking a pile of grayish snow. “I don’t really want to talk about this right now.” He looks at me. “Especially in front of your cousin.”

“Fine,” says Briar, hands on her hips. “Why don’t you give me a call when you do want to talk about it.”

Kenji shakes his head. “Timber and I tried to plan this fun day ...”

“Right,” Briar says with a huff. “And then he blows off my cousin.”

“Don’t get pissy at me because Timber acted like a jerk,” Kenji says.

“Hey, you guys ...” I say, but they’re not listening to me.

“I’m not mad at you about Timber. I’m mad at you about you!” Briar almost yells.

“I don’t need this,” Kenji says, and starts to walk away.

“Fine!” Briar yells.

Kenji looks over his shoulder. “I just thought ...”

“What?” Briar demands.

“Never mind.” He turns and walks away.

“Ugh!” Briar stamps her foot. “Come on.” She pulls my arm, and I follow her into the park. “I need to move before I explode or turn someone into a rat!”

We trudge through the snow. Our thick, fur-lined, deerskin boots are perfect for this weather. Instead of heading up into the tree line at the top of the hill, Briar walks toward a pristine expanse of white in the middle of the snow-covered meadow.

I jog to keep up with her. “What just happened?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head. “Seeing Timber treat you like that today made me realize that I can’t do what you do. I can’t let Kenji string me along.”

I stop in my tracks. “You think Timber’s stringing me along?”

She turns around but keeps walking backward. “I don’t know what he’s doing, Zeph. But that’s the point. I won’t let that happen to me. Either he’s in or he’s out.”

“You really like Kenji, don’t you?”

She nods. “But I don’t know how he feels. He’s so closed off. It’s like hanging out with a tree.”

“I know what you mean.” I point to an elm and a sycamore at the edge of the meadow. “There’s Timber. And there’s Kenji.”

“No,” she says. “Kenji would be a Japanese maple.” I snort. Then she lifts her head and yells into the sky. “I need to blow off some steam. I need to dance!”

“I’ll dance with you,” I say, almost smiling for the first time in hours. “Let’s go.”

Holding hands, we run through the snow, past groups of kids stock-piling snowballs for an epic battle and toddlers making snow angels on the ground. A couple whizzes past us on skis. I look over at the hill, trying to see if our family might be sledding, but it’s too far away to see anything clearly. When we get to the center of the meadow, we are alone. We both stop, facing each other, our breath pluming into the early evening sky. The gray-bottomed clouds, tinted pink on top, hide the sunset, but a pale sliver of moon perches above the clouds calling in the night. The betwixt time, Grandma Fawna calls it, and it is the perfect time to dance.