Reindeer James

Chapter 11

The crowd's cheering filled Donner Stadium on the first day of the Reindeer Games. Thousands of elves wearing their gaudiest reindeer-themed sweaters packed the stands. Human news crews filled the front rows, their bulky cameras trained on the sky above the arena as they waited for the opening ceremony to begin.

Instead of betting candy with Clarice over who would win each event or sharing a massive antler-shaped churro with his mom, James sat beside Gloria in the judges' booth. She crunched on a handful of peppermints as they waited for the opening ceremony. "Shouldn't be much longer now that Gabe's coming out," she said.

James leaned forward as a hush fell over the stadium. There was Gabe, walking into the center with his head held high. He waved to the crowd before pulling something out of his pocket. The whole crowd held its breath.

Gabe fired the flare gun, sending a flame arching over them like a shooting star.

As that faded, an even brighter redness appeared over the horizon, accompanied by the sound of jingle bells. Closer and closer it came until the crowd roared with excitement.

Santa had arrived.

James waved to his dad as he guided his most elite team through a series of loops and spirals. As Santa soared out of the final trick, he blasted a rainbow of tinsel out of the back of the sleigh, sending it raining onto the crowd below in a shining aurora.

With the opening performance complete, Nick stood to address the crowd while his father landed the sleigh and started making his way to his seat.

"Bloody tinsel everywhere," Nick muttered as he picked shiny strands off of his reindeer-print tie, not realizing his microphone was already on. He flushed with embarrassment and cleared his throat. "Welcome to the four hundredth annual Reindeer Games. Thank you for joining us as the reindeer compete to see who will help Santa on his annual journey around the world. It is tradition that..."

As Nick delivered a long, yawn-inducing speech about the history of the Games, Gabe plopped himself next to James. "While he's yapping, let's get you up to speed. Gloria?"

She handed James a pen and a pile of papers as thick and heavy as a fruitcake.

"Don't worry," Gabe said as James gaped at the paperwork, "you'll just be judging the takeoffs for the junior division. It's a pretty straightforward event, so it's perfect for your first shot at judging."

James glanced at the rubric. It contained only two criteria: launch and landing. They both had a scale next to them consisting of ten reindeer faces, with the lowest scoring one crying and the highest with a smile as wide as its antlers.

"For each launch and landing," Gabe explained, "you'll judge them based on ease, speed, and stability. For example, if one of them gets in the air easily and quickly but wobbles a bunch, I'd give them a six or seven. Make sense?"

"I think so." James fidgeted with his pencil, wincing as his gloves chafed against his blister-speckled fingers.

"As long as you trust your gut, you'll be fine. The big guy knows you're in training, so just think of this as practice."

With Nick's speech finally over, jingling bells echoed through the stadium as dozens of young bucks and does marched in formation. Santa's elite team welcomed them with thunderous applause, sending up flurries of snow as they slammed their hooves into the ground. More than a few youngsters reared onto their hind legs to get a better look at their heroes and, in some cases, their parents.