Page 24 of A Winter in Wonderland
Uh-oh, where was this going?
Daan continued. ‘Now, this isn’t formal training, but … this afternoon you are all going to elf school!’
Nope, I signed up to be an adventure guide, not an elf. I can’t be an elf. Elves are kind and happy and fun and make the world sparkle, whereas I’d make all the children miserable! As we piled off the bus, I cursed my sister under my breath, and wished I could go back and get that card I’d sent her and chuck it away. No I didn’t; calm down, Myla.
Entering through a giant archway, we seemed to be going inside an indoor theme park. Shows and workshops, ice galleries and underground tunnels, bakeries and magic trains, it was all go here.
Inside the Elf School, we took our seats in front of the stage, which was covered in props and had a huge blue and gold world map covering one wall. For the next twenty minutes I listened to two elf women give us a talk, alternating between Finnish and English, on the skills and secrets of being a good elf. The women were great, and I had a lot of respect for them, but that persistent feeling crept back in, like it had last night at the Christmas season opening. The one where I felt visibly out of place. My heart thudded in my chest, again, like it was claustrophobic, and I felt myself getting hot and sweating.
As music played and bells on toes jingled and everyone laughed, I was right back there again in Shay’s home, two weeks previously, just before my, ahem, meltdown. This wasoverwhelming, and memories pushed and shoved, trying to make their way to the front of my mind, distracting me, vying for attention, and I could tell I was glazing over.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t put myself through months of this. I had to get out of here.
Excusing myself, I left the room and stumbled my way back through the corridors and out into the open air again, the snow compacted under my feet, the air so fresh and clear it felt life-saving to breathe.
Look around you, Myla!And it hit me like a snowball in the face. This wasn’t torture, not even close; how ridiculous of me to act like it was. This place was … magical. The people … nothing but kind. Sure, I didn’t feel the magic, not yet, but that wasmyproblem. And I didn’t like who I’d become.
Wouldn’t it be nice to not quit something? Wouldn’t it be nice to prove Icoulddo it?
I took another big gulp of air. And vowed to pull myself together. This wasn’t a question of could I get through this; Ihadto get through this.
