Christmas with the Calvins

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Good morning Santa's grumpiest elf!" Jessie greeted her husband as she let herself into his office. A tray carrying two warm bowls of chicken soup with all the fixing was clutched between her hands. "The kitchen elves want to know if you're in a bad mood because it takes the Christmas cheer too long to travel through your body."

"Is that a tall joke?" Bernard hissed. He knew he shouldn't be sour with his wife. She'd been subjected to short jokes most of her life much in the same way he'd been taunted for his height. But Christmas was fast approaching and they both still had so much work to do.

"I think it's also an angry boss joke." Jess decided as she placed the tray of food on his desk. "I can totally relate. My boss has been snapping at me all week." She'd said it with a teasing tone but they both knew she'd been feeling mistreated and for good reason. Curtis and Bernard still hadn't told Santa about the Mrs. Clause and rather than dealing with their problem both older elves had been taking their frustrations with each other out on the only other person in on the secret, her. Jess would have gone to Scott herself except she worried doing so may just get the head elf and the Keeper of the handbook in trouble. "Do you think you could take time away from your schedule for lunch?"

Bernard watched as Jess picked up one of the bowls and sat on his desk. He used to like it when she did that. He used to think it was cute that her short legs swung freely while she ate lunch or talked with him. But lately every single one of her little habits had been annoying him. If Bernard thought about it long enough he'd realize that it wasn't Jessie he was annoyed with but rather himself. He'd failed as head elf when he and Curtis neglected the Mrs. Clause and now the pole may lose its best Santa because of a tiny detail. In time Jess may even grow to resent him because if Scott Calvin was no longer Santa, he Charlie and the Millers would forget everything that happened the past eight years. Jess wouldn't be able to see them anymore because it would break the S.O.S., Secret of Santa, guidelines. The head elf had a lot to lose if Santa didn't find a wife by Christmas Eve.

"I'm not hungry Jessica." Bernard growled.

"Aright." Jess nearly slammed her bowl back onto the tray. "I have some painting to finish. I'll see you at home tonight." She stormed out of the office without another word.

Charlie didn't know exactly what time it was when he snuck onto the roof of the high school with his friend Danielle. They'd been waiting for what felt like hours in the woods watching the teachers leave one by one.

"It is s-so cold up here!" Danielle complained. "Charlie, how are you not freezing?"

"You have not seen cold until you've seen where my dad and sister live." Charlie chuckled. "It's..." His sentence trailed off as he thought about the pole. It was the most magical place on earth and not just because it was Santa's workshop, sure that was part of it, but his Dad lived there. Jess and Bernard were married there. He'd spent every Christmas there since he was eight. It sucked that no one else got to see the one place that felt the most like home to him.

"Don't be embarrassed." Danielle comforted him. "My parents are divorced too. It's no big deal."

"I'm not embarrassed." Charlie insisted taking off his winter coat.

"Then why don't you ever talk about your dad? Or your sister?"

"He doesn't like me too. It's complicated." Charlie sighed. Danielle must have thought he was the biggest loser.

"What is he a spy or something?" The teenage girl laughed.

"No, he...he works with toys." Charlie explained as he climbed into the harness they'd brought with them. "Jess and her husband work with him. They all work with these...little people...kids! Look, can we just do what we came here to do?" He secured a carabiner and a length of rope to a sturdy pipe nearby. The climbing equipment was completely safe and had been inspected by the head elf himself. Though if Bernard knew what his brother-in-law was currently doing with the equipment he would have confiscated the previous year's Christmas present immediately. Opening the window at the top of the gymnasium, Charlie prepared to climb down with a backpack full of spray paint.

"Charlie this is really Dangerous." His friend warned him. "Someone could catch us at any moment. Kind of exciting." She added with a smile.

"Well, you know Danielle, I may not come out of this alive." Charlie said attempting to sound suave. "So in case we don't see each other again..." Guessing what he was hinting at she leaned forward. Charlie leaned forward too, just a bit too far and he fell right through the open roof window.

"Are you okay?" Danielle whispered after he saved himself from falling to his doom. He sent a thumbs up before shaking a green can of spray paint and turning to the task at hand.

Charlie remained harnessed and hovering over the gymnasium with Danielle watching from the window above for almost an hour. The finished masterpiece would read Newman = no Christmas. It had been Danielle's idea to symbolize the "no Christmas" part by painting a giant red line through a decorated Christmas tree. The two teenagers, along with the rest of their friends, had become disgruntled by Principal Newman's ban of anything holiday related. The halls weren't decked with their usual garland and lights and neither tree nor menorah was found anywhere on campus. Teachers were also not permitted to host holiday parties for their students. Naturally the son of Santa Claus felt it was his duty to make a statement against these policies.

The spray painted images may not have been up to Jess' quality of work, but they got their point across well enough. Charlie was just about finished with the red strike-through line when he heard something clang next to him. It was a very tall maintenance ladder. The teenage boy watching in fear as someone climbed up the ladder, a disgruntled expression fixed on their face.

"Hello, Principal Newman." Charlie gulped.

"Hello Charlie." She greeted him with disapproval.