Told by Pearl Summers
Elfina is the most important role in Santa’s Tree Trouble, this year’s holiday musical. Without her, Santa (played by Connor) would never realize the havoc being caused by Elves 1, 2, and 3 or learn to see the true beauty in the scraggly old pine tree (unfortunately, played by Pouya). Christmas would basically be ruined.
Also, Elfina has a solo and the most lines. It wasn’t surprising that Mrs. Carlisle chose me for the part. People say I have a beautiful singing voice and a natural stage presence.
Unfortunately, nobody was appreciating it that day at rehearsal. At first, it was all the duck’s fault, then it was all Pouya’s.
“Okay, let’s take scene one from the top,” Mrs. Carlisle said. “I need Santa, the elves, and the tree.”
I was already in my spot—at center stage. Elf 1, played by Rebecca, was sitting on the edge of the stage reviewing her lines, but everyone else was at the back of the gym watching the stupid duck who—I’m not even kidding—had her own film crew.
Shady’s sister, Manda, and her friend Pascale—an angry-looking girl wearing a huge, flowery scarf—were on their second day of filming some kind of movie. Mrs. Mackie said we were supposed to ignore them and carry on like usual, but kids were following them everywhere like they were big-shot producers or something.
I watched in disgust as the duck waddled across a big piece of butcher paper that Shady, Arjana, and Aisha were supposed to be painting to look like the outside of Santa’s workshop. If there were feathers stuck to the backdrop, I was definitely going to complain. Because this was just one more example in a long list of ways that Shady’s duck had been causing trouble since she’d started coming to school—and it was getting worse and worse.
For example, the Friday before, which was CandyGrams day, student council delivered the mini candy canes people bought for their friends only to find that there were already cherry candy canes on some kids’ desks. It was mostly the kids who never participate in things—like Aisha, Tamille, DuShawn, Tammy, and Jackson. And all the candy canes had tags on them that said they were from Svenrietta. Hello! CandyGrams are supposed to be a fundraiser for the food bank! And a sign of friendship! When a duck starts giving them out for free, for no reason, the whole thing falls apart.
Then, in gym class, a few of us said we didn’t want DuShawn on our relay team. (He was wearing his dress that day, and—I’m not being prejudiced—it slows him down.) And when we got back to the changing rooms, we found something gross and brown on the soles of our regular indoor shoes. Was it duck poop? I mean, I wasn’t going to touch it or smell it to find out, but probably.
Finally, just that morning, after Monica and I pointed out that Aisha’s hat came from Walmart and was probably produced by slave labor, we came out of class for recess to find our one hundred percent locally made Truly Northern hats missing! They turned up later in the lost and found, but by then they smelled like hot dogs and sweat. There was a feather stuck to Monica’s, so I’m positive they were stolen by Pou and the duck and that even Shady was in on it! So much for any loyalty we’d built back in our sandbox days.
I took my hat straight to the office and reported the incident to Mrs. Mackie, but she just said it looked like down from someone’s jacket and that we should keep our hats in our coat sleeves if we didn’t want to lose them.
“I said I need the elves, Santa, and the tree, please!” Mrs. Carlisle called again when nobody had moved.
“Connor!” I called. “Hurry up!”
After all, as much as Elfina was the most important role in the play, Santa was indispensable too. Connor hadn’t said that he liked me yet—not in so many words—but acting side by side had deepened our relationship. Just the other day, he’d held the door open for me on the way in from recess and asked what my favorite kind of chocolate was. Why? There could only be one reason. He was planning to get me a gift!
“Okay, let’s take five,” Shady’s sister said. She’d been lying on the floor to get a duck-level shot, and when she stood up, it finally seemed to break everyone’s trance. Connor, Wendel, and Monica started toward the stage.
“It’s impossible to get good footage with the light changing like this, anyway,” I heard Manda’s friend complain. She tossed her scarf over her shoulder and looked in the direction of Mr. Nelson, the school custodian.
He was carrying cartloads of chairs through the back doors of the gym and stacking them along one wall. There were hundreds already. The gym was going to be packed on performance day, which meant we needed to get serious about rehearsing.
Still, Pouya had to be reminded to take his place one more time.
“Sorry,” he said, leaving the group of kids he’d been standing with and jogging up to the stage. “We were just going over some APS post-Q survival tips.”
Pou’s Planet-Q-is-going-to-smash-into-the-world thing was beyond stupid, and the worst part was, more and more people seemed to be believing him. After he’d insisted that Gavin’s black cat having a litter of ten pure-white kittens was some kind of sign, pretty much everyone but me, Rebecca, and Monica had dropped out of Friends of the Environment Club, and a bunch of them had joined his ridiculous Apocalypse Preparedness Squad (APS) instead.
“If you’re going to be like that…” Pou said, catching the you’re-such-an-idiot look I was giving him, “don’t come running to me asking for bottled water and canned peaches when disaster strikes.”
As he talked, he put on his ridiculous bobbly-star headband, which he’d basically been wearing since he got the role of tree—even though he wasn’t supposed to be decorated until the last scene. Finally, he walked to the back of the stage and spread his branches.
Mrs. Carlisle cued us.
I took a deep breath, trying to forget my frustration with Pouya and become Elfina—body and soul. “You guys!” I said loud and clear, with a smile that could blind the sun. “It’s almost the most magical time of the year again!”
“You mean reindeer games playoff time?” Wendel said, overacting with a cheesy wink.
“No, silly! Christmastime!” I answered.
“Hooray!” the other elves cheered in unison—or, it was supposed to be in unison, but it was all over the place, and Elf 3 didn’t sound very cheerful.
“But before we can celebrate”—I paused, held up my hands like two tabletops, and looked left and right—“we need to find the perfect gift for Santa.”
I had to elbow Tanya to get her attention. “Oh. Um…” She looked for the line in her script. “I bet Santa would like a cool smartphone. So he can text with the snowmen.”
Mrs. Carlisle interrupted. “Elves, when you give your gift idea, remember to pretend to hold up a box. Pearl, you’re going to wrap those and have them ready for the next rehearsal, right?”
I nodded.
“Okay, Pouya,” Mrs. Carlisle went on. “Your line now.”
Pouya bumped into my shoulder and nearly knocked Wendel over as he hopped to center stage. “Yo, elves!” he said. “I bet Santa would dig getting a tree as a present.”
“Cut!” I yelled, so loudly that even the kids painting sets at the back of the gym turned to look. “First, trees don’t hop. You’re planted,” I said. “Second, it doesn’t say ‘Yo’ anywhere in the script. Trees don’t say ‘yo’!”
“Trees don’t even talk,” Pouya shot back. “So, if the tree can talk, why can’t it hop? I’m just giving my character some character.”
Mrs. Carlisle sighed. “Okay, guys. Pouya, no ‘yo.’ Pearl, I’m the one who yells ‘cut,’ not you. Let’s try it from the top.”
So, we did, but Pouya wouldn’t quit hopping around and using dumb accents, and Wendel started laughing so hard he couldn’t say his lines. Then when he finally did manage to say, “I think Santa might want a big flat-screen TV,” he messed it up and said, “big, fat-screen TV,” which made Pouya start laughing. Then Pouya got even dumber and started yodeling his lines because he wanted to be a yodeling tree.
There were only a few minutes of rehearsal left, and I’d just stepped forward for my solo when Shady’s sister, Manda, started freaking out.
“Where’s Svenrietta?” she yelled. “Shady? Do you have her? She was here a minute ago.”
I sighed loudly.
Shady stood up, looking left and right.
“Check in the equipment closet!” Tamille suggested.
“And under the stage,” someone else chimed in.
“Can we start the music now?” I asked Mrs. Carlisle. I’d been practicing “Santa Wants a Christmas Tree” every spare minute to make sure my voice would be clear as bells, and I was dying to hear how it would echo in the gym. Not to mention that Connor wouldn’t be able to help falling in love with me when he heard my voice. It’s been described as “angelic” on more than one occasion, and not just by my mom.
“Just a second, Pearl.” Mrs. Carlisle turned away. “Mr. Nelson,” she called across the gym as the janitor came in with another cartload of chairs. “Can we keep the doors closed for a few minutes, please? We have a duck on the loose.”
That was when Manda’s scarfy friend caused the real panic.
“What if she already got out?” She ran for the doors and pushed them open. Shady, Pouya, and a bunch of other kids dashed out into the snow with indoor shoes and no coats or hats.
Mrs. Carlisle had to run after them to tell them to come back in—and by the time they did, the bell had rung, ending rehearsal.
I sighed. Then I stormed off the stage and back to class. Honestly, I didn’t care if the duck was gone forever. I hoped it was.