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Fly
We were both quiet. Too quiet. I had to speak, because if I didn’t, I would cry, and that wouldn’t do.
I got up and stood behind Fly
“I’ve already told you, this is a mid-century modern dollhouse.” Fly
I leaned in closer, as close as Elinor stood next to him. I could smell his hair; it smelled faintly of pine. “And I’m telling you, this house needs a more feminine touch. It’s looking too sterile.”
Another thing elves hate—to be criticized. “Can you please just let me work?” he asked.
“Not until you say you believe me about Lars.”
“I’m not going to say I believe something when I don’t.” Fly
“I know. Twenty-five days away.”
Fly
“Are you saying we all have jobs to do here but me?” I demanded.
Fly
“My father says that my contributions to the cowgirl outfits were inspired. He—he said that it was the single most requested outfit for girls ages five to seven, so don’t you dare try to minimize what I do. And just so you know, I wasn’t lying about Lars. He really does exist, and he really was my first kiss. I don’t care if it’s in the database or not.”
I turned on my heel and left before he could say another word. I knew what I’d done. I picked a fight with my only friend because I was mad. Mad that Fly
I’m the foolish one for being surprised. There’s no such thing as elves and humans dating. It’s just elves and elves. They marry, they have elf children, and the North Pole keeps spi
A few years from now, I can see it. Her in a silvery wedding gown made to match her hair, a wreath of ivy at the crown of her head, him, tall and slim, together in front of the marriage tree every North Pole elf has ever married in front of. Of course he will love her. Of course he will marry her. Who else would he love? Not me, obviously. I’m not an elf. I’m not like them.
* * *
I stepped outside of the Great Hall for a breath of fresh air, but then I just kept walking.
The air smells like peppermint all the time now. The candy-cane factory is just next door, and the confectionery elves are working round the clock.
It’s snowing, of course. There’s always snow on the ground here. It makes everything look diamond dusted. The thing about snow is, it’s very quiet. The air is hushed. It’s like church.
It’s reverential.
It’s dark, but it’s always dark this time of year. We won’t have sunshine for weeks. The elves don’t mind it, because it’s their natural habitat, but my papa worries I’ll get seasonal affective disorder, so in our house there are light-therapy boxes everywhere.
The sound of my boots crunching along the ground is the only sound I hear besides the sound of my heartbeat as I walk along the path from the Great Hall to our house. And then through the silence I hear Fly
I freeze. When I turn around he’s already caught up with me, and he’s just standing there, not wearing a coat. The cold doesn’t really bother the elves. I eye him warily. “Are you here to give me a lecture on holiday cheer and a joyful spirit?”
“No. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“Oh.” And then I draw up all my courage, and I just ask, because I have to know. “Why does it have to be her?”
“It’s only a Snow Ball, Natty.” But it isn’t. He knows it, and I know it.
Fly
It thrills me to hear him say my name. So much so that I don’t answer so he’ll say it again.
“Natalie?”
“I’ve only ever thought about the future in days till Christmas,” I tell him. No more than three hundred sixty-four days ahead. It never occurred to me that anybody thought differently. Especially not elves. But I guess Fly
I’m thinking maybe now is the right time to give him the robin. I feel around for it in my pocket. And then he says, “You don’t really belong here.”
His words hit me like a snowball to the face. They sting, but they land true. The robin slips through my fingers and deep into my pocket.
Fly
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Like … maybe if you weren’t here, maybe I wouldn’t wonder about what the world is like beyond the North Pole.”
I wave him off. “Fly
“I’m pretty sure they have all that stuff, too. You’ll see. You’re going to go away someday,” he says, and it sounds like a premonition. “You’ll stop believing.”
Tears spring to my eyes. “Not me. I’ll never stop. Never ever ever.”
Stubbornly, he shakes his head. “One day you will, and you’ll forget all about us.”
“Stop saying that!”
“It’s all right. It’s what you’re supposed to do.”
I don’t like the sad look on his face; it weighs on me in a way that is unfamiliar and strange. We’ve never talked like this before. I don’t like the way it makes me feel—too real. Lightning quick, I pull the robin out of my pocket and hand it to him. “Here,” I say. “Merry Christmas.”
He holds the bird up to the moonlight and examines it. “It’s your best work,” he says, and from an elf, there’s no higher compliment. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
Faster than I can blink, as fast as only an elf can be, he touches my cheek with his fingertips, whisper soft and cool. He tucks my hair behind my ear. And then, a sharp intake of breath, my own. Is this really happening?
I lean in closer, I close my eyes, and I purse my lips. And nothing.
I open my eyes. “Um … were you going to kiss me?”
“I—I can’t.”
“Why not?”
He hesitates and then he says, “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“You won’t hurt me,” I quickly say.
Fly
I can see that he means to stand firm. The answer is no. So I say it, my whammy, my ace in the hole, the one thing an elf ca