Charlie’s Dumb Ornament
After school the next day, we decorated the inside of the big house for Christmas. If there is one thing I love more than decorating the outside of a house, it is decorating the inside.
Nannie hung garlands of fir branches along the staircase banister. Kristy twined red velvet ribbon around it. I had a box of little holly sprigs, and I could put them wherever I wanted. Holly is kind of prickly, but it is very pretty.
Sam hung a long garland over the front door, and Charlie wove tiny lights through it. We put a huge bowl of red apples on the dining room table and tied a bow around the bowl.
Finally, Elizabeth set up the crèche (that is the Christmas manger scene) on the mantelpiece.
I was so, so nervous that Elizabeth would notice that the vase was missing from the mantel. But she did not. And when Nannie looked at the crèche, I was even more nervous. But Nannie did not notice that her vase was missing.
Whew!
Still, worrying about getting caught had brought back all my worries about being naughty. I was determined to be nice for the rest of the month but there was no undoing what I had already done. It is hard to have fun when you are knotted up inside.
That evening Daddy brought a Christmas tree home and set it up.
And now came my most favorite Christmas-decorating time of all: trimming the tree. And Daddy had brought home the biggest, most beautiful tree ever. It was full and round and perfectly tree-shaped, and it had soft blue-green needles that smelled delicious. It was so tall that it almost scraped the ceiling.
Kristy, David Michael, Andrew, and I carefully placed the red and green glass balls and porcelain angels and glass stars and all the other breakable ornaments on the tree. While we were doing that, Emily Michelle put the wooden and cloth ornaments on the lower branches. (Sam and Charlie were at a basketball game, so they were missing all the tree-trimming fun.)
Nannie popped popcorn and Elizabeth heated up some cider with cinnamon sticks in it. Daddy put on some Christmas music. It was so wonderfully Christmassy. Once again I tried to put the vase out of my mind.
I loved looking at all the ornaments. My favorite is a green glass angel blowing a red glass trumpet. It is gigundoly pretty.
I carefully unwrapped the angel from the tissue paper that had kept it safe in its box in the attic. Then I noticed a bit of orange under the tissue paper.
Orange? I said to myself. That is not a Christmas color.
I unwrapped the orange ornament. Oh, yes. I recognized it. It was Charlie’s special New York Knicks (that is a basketball team) ornament, which he has had since he was nine, many years ago. The Knicks’ colors are orange and blue.
Now, do not get me wrong. Orange and blue are nice colors. I like orange and blue. It is just that they are not Christmas colors. Christmas colors are red and green. Orange and blue are totally un-Christmassy. They are not even New Year’s Evey. (I am not sure what New Year’s Eve colors are, but I am sure they are not orange and blue.)
There is nothing very Christmassy about basketball either. But every year, Charlie hangs his un-Christmassy orange-and-blue basketball ornament in the middle of the tree, where everyone can see it.
Well, this was the most beautiful, perfect tree ever, and I was not going to let Charlie’s ornament spoil it.
Quickly I stuffed the ornament into my pocket and said, “Um, excuse me, I have to go upstairs for a minute.”
I ran upstairs and shoved Charlie’s ornament under my bed, next to the newspaper with the broken shards of vase folded inside. Then I tried to forget about it. Just like the vase.
It Must Be Magic
Before climbing into bed that night, I pulled back my curtain. I felt terrible. (Sometimes when you feel terrible, it helps to look out a window.) I knew hiding Charlie’s ornament had been bad. It was Christmastime, I was trying my hardest, and I was still doing bad things.
I took one last look at the twinkling lights Daddy had strung everywhere. They were shining on the snow.
Suddenly, through the window, what should I see but — the reindeer again. This was the second night in a row!
I ran downstairs and found Charlie in the kitchen. He was fixing himself a snack — a giant glass of milk and a sandwich about the size of a brick.
“Charlie!” I said breathlessly.
“Karen!” he said, imitating me. “What is up?”
“The reindeer is in the backyard and I forgot to feed him and he might be hungry but if I go out there now he might be scared and run away and I do not know what to do,” I said in a rush.
“Whoa, slow down,” said Charlie. “The reindeer is in the backyard, and what is the problem?”
I explained again, slightly more slowly this time. Then I dragged Charlie to the kitchen window.
Just as we reached the window, I saw a flash of motion in the backyard. And then the reindeer was gone.
“Did you see that?” I practically screamed.
“Mwahf?” said Charlie, his mouth full of salami and tomato and lettuce and bread.
“What?” I said.
He swallowed. “I said, What? Did I see what?”
“The reindeer! He was right there! You could not have missed him!”
Charlie shook his head and took another bite. “Norry, Yarum.” He swallowed. “Sorry, Karen. I did not see him.” He patted my head. “But I believe you did. Honestly. So let’s throw some food out there for him. It is a terrible thing to be hungry.” He took another huge bite of sandwich and swallowed.
How could the reindeer disappear like that? I wondered. Did it have some magical powers? Well, I mean, of course it did. It was Santa’s special flying reindeer.
“There is some celery in the fridge that is looking limp,” Charlie said. “It will be just right for the reindeer. You go back to bed. I will put out the celery, okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.” I started to leave, then paused in the doorway. “Thanks, Charlie. You are the best.”
Charlie smiled. “No problem.”
I went back to my room. I was still worried about whether my reindeer would find his way back to the North Pole. But at least I knew he would not go hungry tonight. I could worry about my bad behavior instead. Then suddenly I had a thought. Maybe Santa would forgive me if I took extra-good care of his reindeer.
Yes, that was it. I would spend the rest of the Christmas season helping my reindeer.
Elf #4
The next morning I got up early and hung Charlie’s ornament on the tree. I stood back and looked at it. Actually, it was not so bad. It sort of blended with all the other colors on the tree. I was glad that I had put it back.
At school Ms. Colman announced that we would pull names out of a hat to choose the parts in our “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” show. The parts for the show were:
Santa Claus
Mrs. Claus
Eight reindeer (Prancer, Dancer, Donner, Blitzen, Comet, Cupid, Dasher, Vixen)
Rudolph
Elves
As Ms. Colman passed the hat around, I wished really, really hard that I would pull the name Rudolph from the hat. Rudolph is the star of the show, and I knew I could be the star. I have been in many plays before. Plus, this play had been my idea, even though it had been by accident. I could just see myself wearing a reindeer costume. It would help me show Santa how much good will and Christmas spirit I had. It was true that I had had some setbacks lately in the goodness department. Maybe I would get extra points if I had more Christmas spirit than anyone.
While I waited for the hat, I thought about the real reindeer — Santa’s lost reindeer. I would feed it and take care of it until it found its way back to the North Pole. It would be up to me, and me alone, to save Christmas — just like Rudolph did.
I hoped Santa would see the connection between Rudolph and me, the Christmas savers. And that he would understand that, even though I had made a few mistakes, I was not all bad and deserved maybe a present or two.
The hat went around the room.
Addie Sidney pulled Santa Claus out of it. Everyone cheered. Her wheelchair would make a perfect sleigh.
Nancy picked Comet. She smiled a big smile. She would make a good reindeer.
As Pamela put her hand in the hat, she said, “Come on, Rudolph!”
I frowned, and said silently to myself, “Come on, elf!”
Pamela read her paper, and her face fell. “Elf Number Three,” she said indignantly.
I tried not to feel happy. That would be mean.
Prancer, Vixen, and Donner were chosen next.
When the hat finally reached me, Rudolph still had not been chosen. I crossed my fingers and hoped hard.
I reached in and pulled out a slip of paper. I unfolded it. It said:
Elf Number Four? I frowned. How could that be? If this were some other play, I would love being an elf. Elves are cute. But I was supposed to be Rudolph. And if I could not be Rudolph, I wanted at least to be a reindeer, like Prancer or Dancer. (I am very good at prancing and dancing.)
But Elf Number Four? I might as well play a piece of scenery, for all the attention I would get.
Worst of all, I would have to stand next to Pamela — Elf Number Three — during the show.
As I sat stewing, the hat went around the classroom. I heard someone squeal with delight. I turned around. It was Hannie.
“I got Rudolph!” she said.
My very own best friend would be playing the part I had wanted so much. Did Hannie have her very own reindeer in her own backyard? No. Had Hannie thought of this play in the first place? No. Was Hannie going to save Santa’s reindeer, just like Santa’s reindeer had saved Christmas? No. And yet she was going to be the star of the show. Does that sound fair? No.
But I had to be nice. (You know why.)
“Congratulations, Hannie,” I said to her at recess that day. “I am sure you will make a wonderful Rudolph.”
“Thanks, Karen,” said Hannie. “And I am sure you will make a wonderful elf.”
At Bellair’s
On Wednesday Nannie took David Michael, Andrew, and me shopping at Bellair’s, the big department store in downtown Stoneybrook. I love Bellair’s, especially the floor with all the mattresses. It is fun to try them out.
Like almost everything else, Bellair’s is especially wonderful at Christmastime. The store is decorated with red ribbons and holly, and Christmas carols play constantly. I can never get enough carols at Christmas.
I wanted to give presents to so many people that I could not possibly buy gifts for all of them. Most of the people on my list would get homemade things. For instance, I was planning on making fancy paper angels, decorated with glitter and Day-Glo markers, for Hannie and Nancy. I was sure they would love them. (Nancy celebrates Hanukkah. I was going to give her her angel on the first day of Hanukkah.)
But I did have enough money to buy a few nice gifts. I was thinking about new mittens for Andrew, and an action figure for David Michael. Elizabeth likes jewelry, so a light-up Santa Claus pin would be perfect for her.
“Now, I want everyone to stick together,” said Nannie as we entered the store. I groaned. How could I buy things for David Michael and Andrew without their knowing it? I whispered this to Nannie. Luckily, David Michael was most interested in playing the video games set up in the electronic-toy section, and Nannie managed to distract Andrew while I chose a pair of snowflake mittens for him. So I bought my gifts.
But I felt guilty spending my Christmas money on gifts when I did not know how I was going to replace the vase I had broken. But I figured that, even if I had enough money to buy a new crystal vase (and I did not), it would never be as special as the one I had broken. Plus, I would not have any money left over for presents. And Santa would want me to be generous to my friends and family.
So I spent the money on gifts and tried not to think about the vase.
After we finished shopping, Nannie said, “And now, how about a special treat?”
“Yea!” I said. “Ice cream!”
Nannie laughed. “No, not ice cream. I was thinking of something even better. We can go to see Santa Claus.”
Both Andrew and I shouted “Yea!”
David Michael started to shout “Yea” too. Then he stopped. He said, “I am too old to sit on Santa’s lap. It is for babies.”
“It is not for babies,” I said. “I am not a baby, and I am not too old to sit on Santa’s lap. I will not be too old even when I am a hundred. I will always love Santa.” So there, I added silently.
David Michael shrugged. “You go on, then. I will stay with Nannie.”
Andrew and I got in line, and before I knew it, I was climbing up onto Santa’s lap.
Now, I know that the Bellair’s Santa is not the real, genuine Santa who lives at the North Pole. After all, every department store has a Santa, and you see Santas on lots of street corners. Awhile ago, I figured out that the Bellair’s Santa, and all those other Santas, are like the elves. They are the real Santa’s helpers. They do good deeds and listen to children. They make sure that everything is ready for the big night. They help Christmas run smoothly.
“Hello, little girl,” Santa said, chuckling a couple of ho-ho-hos. “What is your name?”
“Karen Brewer,” I said. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Do not worry. I am taking care of your reindeer.”
“Reindeer?” said Santa. “Ho, ho, ho. What reindeer?”
“The reindeer that is lost,” I said. “It has been coming around my backyard. I am feeding it — and saving Christmas.” I winked at him. “You can tell me — which is it? Comet? Cupid? I bet it is Cupid.”
Santa looked confused, as if he did not know what I was talking about. “Yes, sure. Cupid. Now, ho, ho, ho, what did you want for Christmas, little girl?”
I could tell that Santa did not know whether it was Cupid or not. The real Santa, up at the North Pole, needed to let his helpers know what was going on. The Bellair’s Santa was totally clueless.
“I just want to save Christmas,” I said modestly. Then I patted him on the shoulder and said, “Put in a good word for me with the real Santa, okay?”
I hopped off his lap. A successful visit with Santa Claus, if I do say so myself. Even if Santa did seem a little confused.
Can Hannie Fly?
On Friday we rehearsed our “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” show.
Ms. Colman had come up with some simple steps for the reindeer to perform while they were singing. They would paw at the ground with their hooves, then take two little prancing steps forward. It did look very reindeerish. Once again, I wished that I could have been a reindeer — any reindeer.
As an elf, I was just supposed to stand in the background with my hands clasped behind my back and sing.
It was difficult for me to stay in the background like a good Elf Number Four. So I kept edging forward, taking little steps when the reindeer did. That is how it is when you want to be the star.
Also, I was sure Santa would give me some kind of signal that he knew I was trying to save Christmas. And the best, clearest signal he could send would be to let me be Rudolph, the saver of Christmas (and star of the show). I knew Hannie was supposed to play Rudolph. But somehow Santa would come through with that sign. I just knew it.
Pamela, who was supposed to stand next to me in the back, kept pushing forward. It was very annoying. Whenever she would move in front of me a little, I would step around her. Then she would step in front of me again. I could not believe her nerve!
Finally Pamela hissed, “Get back!” and threw her arm in front of me. She tried to push me back toward the other elves. I grabbed Pamela’s arm and yanked her in back of me. Then I began singing extra loudly.
Ms. Colman stepped forward and clapped her hands to stop the music. She said, “Karen, Pamela, if you cannot stop disrupting the rehearsal, I will have to ask you both to take a seat.”
I was gigundoly embarrassed. I think Pamela was too, though she whispered, “Yeah, Karen, stop it!”
Since
it was December, I did not say anything. I shuffled backward next to my fellow elf Ricky Torres, and tried to stay there.
The climax of the show came when Hannie-as-Rudolph guided Santa’s sleigh through the fog. Ms. Colman said that for the actual performance we would borrow a fog machine. Underneath her Rudolph costume, Hannie would wear a harness attached to a wire. The wire would lift Hannie up off the stage, so she could fly like a real flying reindeer. Then she would pull Addie and her wheelchair across the stage, below her.
I was so, so envious. How I wanted to fly through the air, above the crowd, all eyes on me! It would be so much fun, like being in a real Broadway play in New York.
“Fly?” Hannie said when Ms. Colman told her about the wire. She looked a little scared.
“You will be lifted up only a few feet off the ground,” Ms. Colman said. “It is completely safe.”
With the help of Mr. Wickersham, another teacher, Ms. Colman strapped Hannie into the harness. It looked like the kind of halter a small dog would use, with straps around Hannie’s chest and waist, joined by other straps so she would be comfortable. It looked very sturdy. I was practically green with envy as I sang about Rudolph’s nose being so bright. Mr. Wickersham pulled on a cable backstage, and Hannie was lifted gently into the air.
“Aieee!” Hannie shrieked. She kicked her legs and flailed her arms, not looking a thing like a reindeer. “Put me down!”
Ms. Colman grabbed Hannie. Mr. Wickersham let down the cable, and Ms. Colman lowered Hannie safely to the stage floor. “Goodness, are you all right, Hannie?” she asked.
Hannie nodded. “Yes, I am okay. I was just a little startled. That is all.”
She looked very nervous and unsure, I thought.
“Do you think you will be able to fly on the night of the performance?” asked Ms. Colman.
Hannie hesitated, then nodded. “I can do it.”
Inside, my heart was breaking. Sure, Hannie could do it. But would she do it as well as I could, with all my Christmas spirit and stage experience? No. That was the sad truth.