Chapter 14 Elf on a Shelf
Elf on a Shelf
“Ms. Haden! Ms. Haden!” Polly ran over to my desk, tears streaming down her face.
“Polly, oh kiddo, what’s wrong?” I reached for my tissue box and immediately got to work dabbing her wet cheeks.
“Brody said my Elf on the Shelf isn’t real. He said she’s dead! A-a-and—” She shuddered with a big, heaving sob. “He said she can’t have babies!” Another wailing, heartbroken cry. “A-a-and he says the class Elf isn’t real either. He said it’s just your way of making us listen.”
I nodded along, my lips pressed together to hide both my smile and my frown. The thing was . . . Brody wasn’t wrong. Her Elf on the Shelf was not only not real, but the whole concept was also becoming the bane of my existence.
As a long-term sub who hadn’t worked all school year, I’d come into the job a little more gung-ho than normal. When I’d found an Elf on the Shelf thrifting in Denver, I’d grabbed it, thinking it would be a great way to endear this class to me quickly.
It had worked. A little too well.
Now, every day, the kids demanded a more extreme Elf trick than the day before.
Last night, I’d dragged Sam up here after hours so he could string lights catty-corner across the room.
Then he’d rigged the elf to look like he was ziplining.
He’d dangled over our heads all day, which had worked doubly to impress the kids and keep their grubby hands off him since none of them could jump that high.
Not that they hadn’t tried. They had. I’d even had to yell at Brody multiple times because he kept trying to stack chairs on top of each other in a dangerous, makeshift ladder to get to him. Every time I turned my back, he’d found a different chair to add to his pile.
He was giving me an ulcer.
Actually, at this point, on the last day of school before break, they were all wild, Christmas-drunk savages.
It was obvious they were cooped up inside because of the cold weather.
It was also clear the rules at home had gotten a little loosey-goosey.
But too bad this long-term sub job didn’t come with a mental health plan.
“Brody,” I growled, searching for him in the classroom. He was across the room, trying to climb a bookshelf. His short arms were barely long enough to hoist his body up the first shelf, yet somehow, he managed, only for the whole structure to wobble precariously. “Get down from there.”
He turned his head, surprised to be called out. His eyes were huge, his eyebrows lost in his hairline. “How’d ya see me?”
The bookshelf wobbled again.
“Brody, get down.” There was a knock at the door behind me.
It was probably the principal, Dr. Hobbs, coming to fire my ass.
I took a tentative step toward Brody, hoping he wasn’t about to get crushed beneath a full shelf of Dr. Seuss books.
“I’m serious. You’re going to get hurt if you don’t listen to me. ”
He blinked at me, deciding if he cared.
“Brody Perkins, get down right this second.” The door opened behind me, but my attention was glued to the six-year-old menace trying to scale the wall.
He rolled his eyes and jumped back from the bookshelf. “It’s glued to the wall, Ms. Haden. It can’t go anywhere!” Then he skipped back to his desk. “Hi, Bam Bam!” he called out merrily as he went.
Glancing over my shoulder, I confirmed that Sam Autry was indeed standing in the middle of my classroom, neon orange visitor lanyard hanging proudly around his neck. But Polly was still sniffling next to me.
“Class, class?” I waited until they repeated “Yes, yes,” in unison. “We need to talk about our elf friend, Bertram.”
“Your elf’s name is Bertram?” Sam asked quietly.
I shot him a look. “Don’t ask.” To the class I said, “Santa questions and beliefs are not something we should be talking about in school. The same is true for our Elf on the Shelf. You don’t have to believe in Bertram, but it’s not your place to ruin someone else’s Christmas magic.”
Hands shot into the air. I realized too late, in my effort to protect more kids from Brody’s Scrooge behavior, I’d opened the door to a hundred questions I didn’t want to answer.
“Erm, Audrey?”
“Why wouldn’t someone believe in Santa? Does that mean he’s not real?” Her big blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
“Yep!” Brody hollered from the back of the room. “Sure does!”
This was the product of having too many older siblings. “Brody,” I snapped for the hundredth time today. “Stop being mean.” He raised a singular eyebrow, unphased by my command, ready for battle.
“Ms. Haden,” Audrey hiccupped, on the verge of tears.
I was losing them. The whole class was going to be sobbing before I could get a handle on this.
“What do you think?” It was Sam’s calm, authoritative voice, demanding the kids listen to him.
I was shocked into silence. All I could do was turn and look at the man—the man I’d been spending evenings with, grabbing takeout with, driving around to look at lights with, teaching how to bake cookies with, curling up next to so I could read my Christmas smut while he replied to emails with, making plans for Christmas break with, falling in love with.
Audrey let out a shuddering breath and said, “I think he’s real.”
Sam winked at her, and even though she was only six, I knew she was as gooey as I was under the charm of those green eyes. “Then that’s all that matters, kiddo. Who cares what that little clown thinks? If you believe in Santa, then he believes in you too.”
Her face instantly cleared up, as did half the classes. I jumped back into teaching, ignoring the hammering of my swooning heart, the flutter in my belly, the way I wanted to take Sam’s hand and pull him into my storage closet so I could have my wicked way with him.
“Bam Bam’s right,” I told the class with a genuine smile while he growled at the use of his nickname.
“No one can tell you whether you should believe in Santa or not. That’s up to you, babes.
Christmas is full of magic. We see magic everywhere.
” I pointed at Bertram. “Our elf friend is hanging from the ceiling. That is magical. The lights outside this classroom, in the hallway, and on the building, and all throughout town—they’re magical too.
I went ice skating at the new outdoor ice-skating rink a week ago.
And I thought that was incredibly magical.
” Their expressions had started to change.
Their eyes were full of wonder again. Brody was in the corner sulking, arms crossed over his small chest, but he was quiet—another magical moment.
“Everyone, get out your journals. That will be our final assignment for today: draw the last time you got to experience Christmas magic.”
While I helped some students get out their supplies, Sam walked over to Brody and squatted down to look him in the eye.
I wasn’t sure what exactly was said between them, but Sam was firm, serious, gentle.
Brody argued at first but eventually backed down, his tense shoulders softened, his furrowed brow relaxed.
It was the most incredible thing to watch Brody respond to an adult he respected. Yes, Sam was his uncle, but even Dr. Hobbs couldn’t get Brody to settle down when he was worked up.
The Brody who returned to his desk and pulled out his journal was an entirely different Brody than the one who was trying to ruin everyone’s Christmas and incite a rebellion.
This Brody was excited to do his work, was kind to his tablemates, and had focused all his chaotic energy into diligent effort.
His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, and his brow crinkled over his eyes in the most adorable rendition of a serious student I’d ever seen.
“What did you say to him?” I whispered when Sam made his way back to my desk.
He grinned conspiratorially. “He didn’t think Santa could afford to get him what he really wanted for Christmas. I think he was trying to convince himself Santa wasn’t real so he wouldn’t be disappointed when he didn’t get what he wanted this year.”
“What did he want?” I asked, imagining the most extravagant request from Brody Perkins. A house on the moon? The continent of South America? His regular teacher back?
“His very own Meta Quest 3S, so he doesn’t have to share with his brothers anymore.”
“Oh, my gosh, no wonder he was pre-preparing himself. That sounds very expensive.”
Sam chuckled. “Yes, it is.”
“You’re going to buy it for him, aren’t you?”
Sam dipped his head to hide his smile. In the calmest and most collected voice ever, he said, “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
I stared at him, mouth agape. “It sounds exactly like you.”
“Look at him go,” Sam murmured, pride warming each word. “You just have to find the right carrot sometimes.”
I huffed out a deep sigh. “This might get us to Christmas break in . . .” I looked at the wall clock, “fifteen minutes, but I can’t give him a new VR every time he makes a fuss.”
“Oh, no, he’s a terrible kid,” Sam agreed, chuckling. “And he has a lot of school left to go.” Another grin, another flash of that cozy pride for this little boy in his bright eyes. “But school doesn’t last forever. Look at me. I hated every second of it. Now I’m out there thriving.”
I snorted a laugh, remembering Cooper and Sam’s antics from high school. They both truly hated school. They were both absolute hooligans. And now they were both incredibly successful men. Still, I couldn’t help but give him a hard time. “Define thriving.”
He mock scowled at me. “I know you’re new around here, Haden, but people know me as the Christmas King.”
“The Christmas King?” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“And now I got my dream girl.” He put his hands behind his head, peacocking a bit. “Life is good.”
My cheeks flooded with heat. His dream girl? How was I supposed to protect my heart from this guy when he invaded my classroom, settled his rambunctious but adorable nephew down, and called me his dream girl?
“You’re too much,” I told him, breathless.
He turned the full force of his attention on me, holding my gaze, standing as close as possible without touching me—for the sake of the first graders—and dropping his voice to a sweet murmur. “All true, babe.”
Dazed, flustered, boiling over with butterflies and nerves like potatoes unattended on the stovetop, I asked, “What are you even doing here?”
His grin grew, making crinkles near his eyes, his dimple popping behind his scruff.
“My crew is going to be here after school to take things down so they can close up the building for break. I got here a little early to see you in your element. Thought maybe you could use some help after the bell rings.”
My heart squeezed tight. Did I know Sam would be this sweet?
This attentive? Could I have guessed all those years ago?
If I wouldn’t have seen my mother’s mouth assault on him and ran away, would he have become this man?
Would I have become this girl who was on the very precipice of falling in love with him?
“I think I’ll kiss you,” he said in that rumbly voice. I gazed into his green eyes, deep, fathomless depths of adoration and affection staring back at me. “As soon as we lose all this cute baggage, I’m definitely going to kiss you.”
And there I went. Tipping, falling, soaring off the cliff into something beautiful and bright and so much bigger than I ever believed could be between us.