North Pole Reform School (8 page)

CHAPTER 11

“You okay?” I ask Luke as we walk towards the
kitchens.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says quietly. “Just so bloody sick of
Joe. He’s really getting me down.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“He thinks he knows everything. And this elf boy thing is
really pissing me off.”

“I meant what I said before,” I say, blushing even as I
think it. “Your ears are cute.”

He smiles at that. “Thanks. I mean it, I get laughed at
enough in college—I don’t need bloody Joe joining in too.”

“I know, he’s really annoying. I hate being accused of stuff
that just isn’t true.”

“Yeah. And that guy who died… I keep thinking about it, you
know?”

“Oh come on, Luke, it wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but the elves are right in that I had something to do
with it. He died and maybe he wouldn’t have if I hadn’t taken that stupid sign
off his lawn. They have a point, don’t they?”

I shrug. “The same could be said of anything. As they
pointed out, it’s a domino effect; any number of people could have done
something differently to stop him dying. It can’t be blamed on any one person.”

He laughs, but it doesn’t sound very genuine. “Seems like
their reform school is working.”

“You starting to like Christmas?”

“Hell no. Between the last two days, I don’t think I ever
want to hear the word Christmas again. But I am starting to think I was wrong
to do what I did.”

“Don’t let Joe get you down,” I say to him. “You seem like a
decent guy, and he seems like a jerk. As you said yourself, he’s such an
asshole that he even has to do his jobs alone. Just ignore him, Luke.”

“I’m trying, but he really knows what buttons to push.”

“Seems like he’s had a lot of practice.”

Luke laughs at that. “Yeah, I guess so. Hey, thanks, you
know, for making me feel better.”

“You know where I am if you ever want anything.”

“I want to go home. Bet you can’t help with that one, huh?”

“I wish.”

He shrugs. “We’ll find a way out. Just remember to keep an
eye on where the elves are coming from and going to. They must have a way in
and out.”

We come to the kitchen door and knock.

“Come on in,” a woman’s voice shouts cheerily.

“Hi,” I say nervously as we push the door open.

The sight that greets us is straight out of a Christmas
film. The kitchen is huge, a lot bigger than it looks from the outside, and I
wonder if there is some Tardis-type magic afoot here. If it weren’t for the
industrial ovens lining the walls, it would look like an old country cottage
inside: red brickwork, red, white, and green curtains and towels.

In the corner, stirring a pot on one of the hobs, is Mrs Claus.
She’s dressed exactly like Santa, only without the beard and with a skirt
instead of trousers. Rather than a hat, she has a red and white furry headscarf
holding her hair back.

Like Santa, she’s younger than I expected.

“Good morning, my dears,” she says cheerfully. “Would you
two happen to be Luke and Mistletoe?”

“We are,” Luke confirms.

“Ooh, wonderful, my first reform group of the year.
Welcome.”

She comes over and gives each of us a hug. “I’m Mrs Claus,
you know, Santa’s wife.”

She laughs at that, and her laugh sounds like more of a
friendly “ho ho ho” than Santa’s did.

“Mrs Claus is a bit formal, though, so you can call me Carol
if you want. That’s my name, like Christmas carols, see?”

I notice Luke is smiling through gritted teeth, but
something about her makes me genuinely smile.

“I have to tell you that your mince pies that we had for
dinner last night were great,” I say. “My mother would kill for your recipe.”

“All my recipes are an elf secret,” Mrs Claus says. “But
maybe you’ll learn some of your own if you stay with me long enough.”

“We’re only scheduled until lunch today,” Luke says.

“Don’t worry, there will be plenty of time. I get you for
more than one day over the course of your stay here.”

I guess we knew that. Kind of.

“Come on in anyway,” Mrs Claus says. “Take your coats off
and wash your hands. We have a lot of elves to feed for lunch.”

“What are we feeding them?” I ask.

“Mince pies, of course.” She chortles.

Luke rolls his eyes.

“Have either of you cooked before?”

“Nope,” Luke says. “My biggest culinary success is toast.”

“I help my mum sometimes but I don’t really know anything
about it.”

“Well, there’s plenty of time to learn.”

She hands us both aprons, white with a snowman on the front.
“Touch his nose,” she says as we put them on.

I do and the apron starts playing “Frosty the Snowman”.

Is nothing safe from Christmas around here?

After pressing the nose of her own apron and singing along
to the tune twice more, she gives us our tasks. Luke is told to knead dough,
while I am made to roll out pastry and cut pie bases from it. It’s boring work,
slow and repetitive. The pastry I’m cutting has to be exactly four millimetres
thick—even a fraction off and it has to be done again.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Mrs Claus says. “It becomes
second nature. I haven’t been doing it for very long, and now I can do it with
my eyes shut.”

“How come you haven’t been doing it for very long? I thought
you and Santa had been here forever?” I ask.

“Oh no, dear. Not forever.”

“How long then?” Luke asks.

Instead of answering him, Mrs Claus starts whistling “We
Wish You a Merry Christmas” loudly.

Luke raises an eyebrow at me.

She obviously has nothing more to say on the subject.

How odd.

“So tell me about you?” Mrs Claus says after a while. “I
love the reform groups Tinsel and Navi send me every year; it’s such a
wonderful thing they do. What have you two done that brought you here?”

Luke glances at me. “
Accidentally
ruined Christmas, apparently.”

“Oh no, dears. How did you manage that?”

“I stole decorations,” Luke mutters.

“And I set a tree on fire.”

“You must really hate Christmas to do something like that?”

Luke ignores her.

“Neither of us did it on purpose,” I say. “But no, Christmas
isn’t my favourite time of year.”

“Why not, dear?”

“Oh, where to start? Between the Christmas-nut parents and
the ridiculous name, Christmas never ends in our house. Things get worse when
it’s actually December. My birthday is on Christmas Eve and it gets lost in all
the Christmas plans. Dad works until midnight, and Mum is too busy preparing to
feed the five thousand to notice me. Although you can’t fail to notice me
thanks to the Christmas sweater that Gran knits, complete with mistletoe motif
and jingling bells on the sleeves. She makes matching ones for all of us, even
the dog.”

Mrs Claus laughs. “Well, it’s lovely to include the whole
family in festive celebrations.”

“We sound like cats with those collars that warn birds when
they’re coming. And we have to wear them all over the holidays because Gran is
staying, along with a whole host of other relatives we only see once a year for
very good reason.”

“Christmas is a time for family,” Mrs Claus says.

I think Luke might have the right idea about ignoring her.

It seems like hours before we get to leave. Eventually at
ten minutes to one, Mrs Claus tells us it has been nice working with us and she
looks forward to seeing us again.

Personally, I thought she was nice. I guess she’s what you
would call the absolute traditional Mrs Claus—a warm, welcoming, homely,
mother-type. Probably the kind of woman my mother aspires to be like, hence the
constant Christmas festivities and baking.

I can tell Luke is annoyed though.

“What’s up?” I ask him as we walk down the street towards
the dining hall. For more mince pies, no doubt.

He shrugs. “I’ve had Santa’s sodding wife whistling in my
ear for the past four hours. Hey, don’t you think it was odd that she said she
hadn’t been here forever and then didn’t want to talk about it? What’s that all
about?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re not meant to ask personal
questions or something?”

“They certainly ask us enough personal bloody questions.”

“Yeah, but we must be the equivalent of criminals to them.
They probably think we’re going to grab the nearest machete and go on a
Christmas-tree rampage.”

He laughs. “I doubt machetes are allowed in the North Pole.”

“Yup. No weapons, no fighting, no killing. It’s quite boring
really, isn’t it?”

“At least there’s good company.” He winks at me just as I
stumble in the snow and he has to put an arm around my shoulder to steady me.

“I can’t walk in these boots,” I mumble as a blush rises to
my cheeks.

“Tell me about it.” He grins but doesn’t take his arm away.

CHAPTER 12

Tinsel and Navidad are waiting with the others when
we get to the dining hall. We go inside and the elves on the piano are singing
“Silver Bells” today.

“So tell us about your mornings, everyone,” Tinsel says as
we sit down at the usual table. “Did you all have fun?”

Joe snorts. “I think you elves need to work on your
definition of fun.”

“Maybe it’s you, Joe, who needs to work on yours,” Navi
counters. “He who lives by the broccoli will die by the asparagus.”

“He needs to work on something all right,” Luke mutters from
his seat next to me and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. He flashes me
an adorable grin.

It’s nice how he always sits next to me. I know he thinks
I’m the most normal person here, but I like being near him.

“Something to say to me, Elf Boy?” Joe demands.

Luke smiles at him. “Just wondering how you got on doing
your job all by yourself? Hope the elves could at least stand the smell long
enough to show you what you were supposed to be doing.”

“You’re lucky I don’t deck you right here.”

“Stop it, everyone, please,” Emily says. “We shouldn’t
fight.”

“I don’t know why you’re saying everyone,” Hugo says. “It’s
only those two who are fighting.”

“But all of you are party to it,” Tinsel says. “Your group’s
final grade is based on how you all handle yourselves within the group.”

“Looks like Joe’s failing then,” Luke says.

“You are too then.”

“And what do you think happens after that?” Navidad asks.

No one responds.

“Then you’ll have to stay here and be stuck with each other
until you do manage to pass.”

“Oh great, wouldn’t that be fun,” Luke mutters.

“There are more important things in life than fighting,”
Tinsel says. “Like Christmas, and putting your differences aside to enjoy the
festive season.”

“Oh God, you elves have seriously got to stop with all the
festive bullshit,” Joe says.

Dinner is served to us—a candy cane and two pies. “Apple
this time, for the humans,” the waiter says distastefully.

“No one has told us about their mornings so far,” Tinsel
says as we start eating. “Mistletoe and Luke, did you two have fun with Mrs
Claus? Did you help to make these pies?”

Luke ignores her.

“I cut the bases,” I say. “Luke kneaded out the dough.”

“And did you have fun?”

“I don’t consider being forced to do things I don’t want to
do to be fun, no matter what the activity is,” Luke answers for me.

“Did you like Mrs Claus?” Tinsel continues speaking as if Luke
hasn’t said anything.

“I don’t think you could fail to like Mrs Claus,” I admit.
“She’s a real character.”

“How about you, Joe? What did you get up to this morning?”

“Reading through bloody paperwork. Tons of it. I always
complain about my job being more paper than work these days, but that naughty
and nice place takes the biscuit. They have case files for every kid in the
world, and they have to go through every one of them and decide whether the kid
goes on the naughty list or the nice list. It’s so boring.”

“But you’re getting a glimpse into children’s lives, Joe,”
Navi says. “It’s amazing. It’s so insightful, and it really helps you to
understand people and their motivations for doing things.”

“We always take motivation into account for the naughty and
nice lists,” Tinsel adds. “Nothing can be taken at face value—you have to look
into it and find the reasoning behind a child doing something bad.”

“Like what?” Hugo asks.

“Well, for example, if a child was to steal something, at
first glance it would look like they belong on the naughty list, but when you
look into it further, you might discover the child was taking the item to help
someone else, or that it was a cry for help.”

“Or you might find out he was just a bad bastard all along,”
Joe interjects.

Tinsel shoots him a look before continuing, “Just last week
we had a child put on the naughty list but then removed when we discovered the
food he’d stolen from a shop was to feed his baby sister who wouldn’t stop
crying, and he had thought it was because she was hungry. It’s just an example
of doing something that’s wrong but with genuine good intention.”

“Like Luke?” I ask. “He had good intentions.”

“That’s not the same thing at all,” Tinsel says. “Besides,
Luke is old enough to know better. And we won’t even get into how awful it is
that a descendant of our very own has tried to ruin Christmas.”

“Thanks, guys,” Luke mutters.

“How about you, Emily? Hugo? Did you two have a good morning
in the post office?”

Hugo shrugs. “It was kinda boring.”

“I loved it!” Emily says enthusiastically. “It was awesome.
All those letters to Santa to read through.”

“All those greedy bastards asking for stuff, you mean?” Joe says.

“Emily only liked it because there were no windows,” Hugo
says.

“I felt safe. There were no ducks. I checked the room, and
there were none inside, and then I knew they couldn’t see in without any
windows, so it made me feel better.”

“Well, feeling comfortable is always important in whatever
you’re doing,” Navi says.

“I’m not comfortable in this stupid outfit,” I say. “Isn’t
that important?”

“We’ve been over this, Mistletoe. It’s that or your
underwear, no one around here will mind either way.”

“Oh, so the elves are all perverts then. Good to know,” Joe
says.

“That’s not funny, Joe. You really are crossing some lines
today.” Navidad sounds completely unimpressed.

“What about Elf Boy over there? He’s crossing lines too, but
I don’t see you having a go at him about it, but then again I suppose you
wouldn’t. No doubt the half-elf would get special treatment.”

“Leave it out, eh, Joe?” I say. “It’s getting boring now.”

“Of course the one with the elf name would stick up for the
one with the elf ears.”

“Sod off, Joe. I haven’t done anything wrong and I’m not a
bloody elf.” Luke slams his hand down on the table and shoves his chair back.

“No leaving until everyone is finished,” Navidad says.

Luke storms out.

“Well, I never…” Tinsel starts.

“He’s just having a bad day. I’ll go and get him if you
want,” I offer. I feel really bad for Luke.

“It’s okay, Mistletoe, it’s time to go anyway. You and Luke
are on Reindeer Duty this afternoon, so you find him and head to the stables.
You know where they are, right?”

“I think so.”

“Well, you can always ask an elf for directions if you get
lost. We’ll take everyone else to their afternoon assignments. Please tell Luke
we’ll be having a word with him later about his attitude.”

“Serves him bloody right,” Joe mutters.

“Oh shut up,” I tell him. “If you two need a word with
anyone it’s bloody Joe.”

Luke hasn’t got far by the time I get outside. I jog to
catch up with him, but it’s hard to run in the snow. At least it is when you’re
wearing pointy-toed boots with bells on them.

“Luke, wait…”

“Sorry,” he mutters.

I put my hand on his arm when I catch up close enough to
him. “What’s going on with you today?” I ask gently.

He shrugs but doesn’t try to get rid of my hand. “I just
hate it here, I guess. And Joe is really pissing me off.”

“You know, I could be completely misjudging you here, but
you seem like the kind of guy who wouldn’t let what other people said bother
him. How come Joe is getting to you so much?”

“He reminds me of someone I don’t need to be reminded of.”

“Who?”

He glances at me.

“Oh, sorry, that was way too nosy.”

Luke laughs. “It’s okay. He just… reminds me of my father,
and well, let’s just say we don’t have the best relationship.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugs again. “The less said about it the better. But Joe
is just getting under my skin in the worst way possible.”

I rub his arm and then drop my hand quickly before it gets
even more awkward.

“I know it won’t make you feel better, but Tinsel and Navi
said they want a word with you tonight about what just happened.”

“Great. Can’t wait, that’ll give me something to look
forward to all afternoon.”

I laugh.

“Hey, thanks for trying to stick up for me in there.” He
knocks his shoulder against mine. “I appreciate it.”

I shrug because I don’t know how to answer that.

“So, we’re headed to the stables, right? Reindeer duty?”

I nod. “And whatever that is, it doesn’t sound like fun.”