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CHAPTER 4
A Foolish Dream
It was Christmas Eve again. As always Olive wished she could go on the Big Trip. Many of her spare reindeer pals had gone. Why not me? she thought. But maybe that was a foolish dream.
Only this morning an elf had shouted, "You over there — no, not you, Jingles. The other reindeer. Yes, you, green nose. Give us some help."
But at dusk when Olive got off shift, she began to do some serious thinking. Maybe it wasn’t a foolish dream at all. What did that smart alec elf know anyway?
So she decided right then to visit Santa and ask him if she could join the team.
CHAPTER 5
A Meeting With Santa
As she stood in front of Santa’s house, Olive wasn’t so sure of herself.
Just who do you think you are? she thought.
But she’d come this far so what did she have to lose? All Santa could do was say no.
She hesitated then tapped at Santa’s door.
She waited. No answer.
She tapped again.
No one home.
She sighed. "Oh, well, I tried."
Just as Olive was about to leave, the door burst open.
"Ho! Ho! Ho! Well, well, look who it is!" Santa said. He had only one boot on. "I’m just getting ready to go over to Mission Control to check things out before the Big Trip. What can I do for you, Olive?"
"Hi, Santa. I thought I’d ask if there, uh, was — was —"
"Was what, Olive?"
"Well, anything I could do."
Santa thought. "No, I can’t think of anything."
"Oh."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Well — uh — well —"
Olive was tongue-tied.
"Please, I’m really in a hurry," Santa said. "Well?"
When he hears what I want he’ll laugh at me, Olive thought. That’s worse than a simple no. She just blinked.
"I can’t think of a thing you could do," Santa said.
"Well, I just thought I’d, you know, ask anyway."
Santa shrugged. "Thank you for asking, Olive."
"You’re welcome, Santa."
She left and Santa scratched his head.
"What a strange conversation," he muttered.
CHAPTER 6
Countdown
Take-off time was ninety-seven minutes away.
Best to forget about the Big Trip, Olive felt, by keeping busy. Maybe Mrs. Claus wanted some muffins taken to the hospital.
She headed for the bakery.
Lovely smells drifted from it: mincemeat tarts, chocolate cakes, jelly doughnuts, date squares, brownies, buns, bread, all kinds of muffins and cookies.
"Hi, Olive. That nose of yours sure works mighty fine," Mrs. Claus said. "Here’s a nice warm raisin and oatmeal cookie just for you."
"No thank you, Mrs. Claus," Olive said. "I’m not hungry. I just came over to see if you wanted some muffins taken over to the hospital."
"I’m sorry, we made the muffin delivery this afternoon when you were at the toy factory."
"Oh."
Mrs. Claus gave Olive a close look. "What’s the matter, Olive? Why the glum looking face?"
Olive pawed at the ground. "Well — it’s nothing. Nothing."
Mrs. Claus fixed Olive’s blue bow. It was crooked. "Something is bothering you. Tell me, Olive, don’t be shy with me. We girls have to stick together. What is it?"
"It’s nothing, Mrs. Claus. I’d better go now and see if they need me one last time at the toy factory."
Olive trotted off.
"You’re my favorite reindeer you know. I’m always around if you need me," Mrs. Claus called after her.
CHAPTER 7
Too Late
At the toy factory Olive’s best friend, Boomer, the chubby harness elf, sat on a crate by the shipping dock. He munched on a peanut butter sandwich.
"Hi, Olive!" Boomer shouted. He liked to shout rather than talk.
"Hi, Boomer. Do they need any more help inside?"
"Not now. They’re just tying up some loose ends. We’re ready."
"Oh." She wasn’t needed here either.
"What’s eating you, Olive? Huh? You look really sad."
"Well, it’s just that I’d love to go on the Big Trip," Olive said.
"Hey, come on! You’ll make it one day."
"Oh, I don’t know about that, Boomer."
"You will. You’re fast. You always win the races on Candy Cane Pond. And you’re strong too."
"I’m just a nobody. After all these years I’m still called the other reindeer."
"Aw, come on! Mrs. Claus for one doesn’t call you that," Boomer said. "Tell her what you want."
"Mrs. Claus doesn’t do the hiring."
"No, but I’m sure she’s got some clout with Santa."
"I just talked to Mrs. Claus and I couldn’t tell her about — about my dream. I just couldn’t."
"Huh? Why not?"
"Well — I —"
Boomer waved his sandwich in the air. "Sweet potaters, Olive! You can’t just wait for something to happen. And that’s what you’re doing."
"I know, Boomer, I know." She wouldn’t mention her visit with Santa Claus or Boomer would get really steamed. "But I just don’t like to be — pushy."
Boomer snorted. "Pushy? You really tick me off sometimes. You know that? The squeaky wheel gets the grease. Things won’t come to you. And —"
"And what, Boomer?"
Boomer stared at his sandwich. "The Big Trip is only eighty-nine minutes away. But I have to say you can forget it just like the other ones. It’s too late."
Olive gulped. Maybe I should have said something to Mrs. Claus, she thought. I’ll be staying behind again.
Continues---->