Selfish Elf Wish by Heather Swain

looks disappointed. “What will your family do, Zephyr?”
    “Um, uh,” I stutter, wondering if Christmas coincides with the winter solstice this year. “The usual, I guess.”
    “See the tree at Rockefeller? Visit Santa at Macy’s? Check out the lights in Dyker Heights?” she says.
    “Er ...” I look at her dumbly. Crikey, I wish I had the talking hex back. Now I sound like a monosyllabic moron.
    “This is their first Christmas in New York,” Timber says.
    “Then you should definitely take her to Macy’s,” Laura tells him. She turns to me. “You have to see Santa there at least once.”
    Timber studies me for a second, then he says, “You’ve never sat on Santa’s lap, have you?”
    “Well, I, uh ...” I try to remember what I know about that Santa guy.
    “Of course you haven’t!” Timber says. “There are no malls where you’re from.” He turns back to his mom.
    Laura shakes her head. “Oh dear,” she says, as if that’s the saddest thing she’s ever heard.
    “My grandfather played Santa once at the Yale Club,” Timber says. “His friend Bunny Woolen was supposed to be his elf. Only Bunny was this short, fat little guy. About this tall.” He holds his hand four feet from the ground.
    Laura starts to laugh. “I remember that. It was hilarious. He was this angry, sour little man who chomped on a cigar the whole time.”
    Timber laughs along with his mother. “He was nothing like an elf.”
    The table suddenly goes quiet. A fork clatters against a plate. My parents stop their conversation with the Sanchezes. Grove looks up from his conversation with Ari’s family. Briar turns slowly from Kenji toward us. Everyone’s eyes are wide, and no one seems to breathe.
    “And what, pray tell, are elves like?” Fawna asks. My mouth drops open.
    “You know,” Laura says, her laughter fading as she realizes my entire family is staring at her. “Goofy, funny little things with pointy shoes and ...” She trails off.
    I brace myself, ready for the worst spells to fly, people to turn into frogs, my grandmother to morph into a screeching hawk. My mother hops up from her seat. I close my eyes and Briar grabs my hand. We hunker down.
    “Who’s ready for dessert?” Mom nearly shouts.
    Suddenly the table comes back to life. Dishes clack and brattle as my mom, dad, Grove, and my grandmother quickly gather up the dirty plates, glasses, and silverware and disappear into the kitchen in a flash.
    “Oh my,” Laura says, blinking. “That was, um, quick.”
    Briar and I stop clutching each other. “Whew,” she whispers as I slump back in my seat, feeling as if my limbs are full of jelly.
    “So you’ll be in town for Christmas?” Laura asks me. I have to stop myself from making some sarcastic remark about how we’ll be helping Santa.
    “We’re going back to Michigan,” Briar says, saving my butt.
    “That’s so nice.” Laura gently folds her napkin and places it on the table. “So nice to be with family for the holidays.”
    “Depends on the family,” I mutter half to myself.
    Timber slaps my back and laughs loudly. “Exactly.”
     
    Once dessert is done and the candles have burned down low, my friends and I slip into the living room while the adults stay at the table talking.
    “Let me be the first to apologize for how annoying my parents are,” Ari announces when we settle on the couches and chairs. I grab a spot on the love seat next to Timber.
    “Your parents?” Mercedes slaps her own forehead. “That’s nothing compared to my parents. All they could talk about was sausage. Sausage! Who talks about sausage?”
    “I think my mom has a crush on Zephyr,” Timber says, and everybody stops to stare at him. He laughs uncomfortably. “She’s totally in love with you,” he says to me, and I blush a deeper red than the fabric of my tunic. “I think she wanted to invite you over for Christmas while I’m off skiing with my dad.”
    Great , I think, his mom is more into me than he is