Summary: When Bernard slips and hits his head, he gets amnesia. How can Curtis resist taking advantage of the head elf's ignorance?
EvergreenGirl: Hey! I'll try to update these about every week. I already have ideas for the next three chapters, so . . . don't give up on me, please! ;) Please review!
A Case of Misplaced Memory
Curtis sprinted down the hallway, football in hand. Some of the other elves had invited him to play tinsel football. He was never athletic, but he wanted to take advantage of the -20 degree summer weather. The North Pole was still cold, nonetheless, but the elves were used to it. Meanwhile, Bernard was adding the leak in the roof to his list of things to be fixed. Snow continued to fall through the hole in the ceiling, and melt on the lovely tiled floor where it'd freeze. It was hazardous, so when Curtis came bounding toward it, Bernard called, "Watch out for the—! "
He couldn't finish his sentence before Curtis's foot had made contact with the ice, causing him to slip. "Whoa!" cried Curtis, losing his balance.
Curtis managed to keep himself upright as he slid off the icy patch. "Curtis! No running!" Bernard scolded.
"Sorry. The game is about to start!"
The short, stout elf adjusted his glasses and took off running again, regardless of what Bernard said. The head elf sighed and finished taking note of the leak. Curtis went out the door, jumping down the stairs to the snowy courtyard. "Come on, Curtis!" another elf hollered.
While Curtis made his teammates go long, Bernard inspected a reindeer ice sculpture for Santa's birthday party next week. Judy had spent an entire month carving it for Santa. The sculpture was displayed on the deck by the courtyard. "What do you think, Bernard?" she inquired, smiling proudly.
"It's wonderful! I think he'll really love it."
Judy smiled broader. Suddenly, Bernard noticed a flying projectile in his peripheral vision. He yanked Judy out of the way as a football soared over the deck's railing and into the ice sculpture, making a dreadful shattering sound, not unlike breaking glass. "My ice sculpture!" cried Judy, touching the broken ice.
"Sorry!" Curtis yelled from the courtyard.
Bernard glared down at the elf below him. "Curtis!"
The head elf stormed down the steps, fuming. With one glance into Bernard's enraged eyes, Curtis fled the scene. "Stop, Curtis!" Bernard screamed, running after him.
Bernard chased Curtis around the courtyard, down the halls, and back around. Curtis wasn't the fastest elf, but he'd had a good head start. However, he was out of breath, forcing him to stop and gasp for air. He bent over, his hands on his knees, and sucked air in loudly. Bernard sped toward Curtis, his beret nearly flying off his dark head. Curtis stood up straight when he saw Bernard's path. "Bernard, wait!"
Ignoring the warning, the head elf still came at him. Curtis screeched, "The ice!"
Bernard looked down, slowing his pace, but it was too late. His heel slid across the patch of ice from the leak, and he fell with a thud. "Bernard!" Curtis's voice faded in and out of Bernard's pointy ears as he slipped into unconsciousness.
00000
"Are you okay?" Judy asked when Bernard's eyes fluttered open.
He sat up on the cushy, green sofa. "What happened?" he wondered, brushing flecks of snow and ice off his gold and red striped sweater.
"You slipped on ice and hit your head," Curtis whispered guiltily.
"I think I'm okay, but my head hurts a little. Wait, who are you?" the bewildered head elf asked.
"You don't remember, Bernard? It's me, Curtis. And this is Judy."
Judy smiled. Bernard furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Bernard? My name's Bernard?"
Curtis nodded. "Are you sure you don't remember me?"
"I'm sure," Bernard replied.
"Okay. Well, you're head elf of the North Pole. We work for Santa Claus. His birthday's next week. I guess since you can't remember, I'll have to help you work."
"Oh. Are we friends?"
"Yeah, I think we are," Curtis paused, "You absolutely adore me," he lied.
"I do?" Bernard asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.
Judy scowled at Curtis, but that didn't stop him, it only made him grin. "Yep, we're best buds. You do everything for me. You even do my work sometimes, and you make me hot cocoa, bring me cookies and candy, and do whatever I ask without question."
Curtis crossed his arms over his chest and held his head up high in victory. "Since you're in charge, you should tell Judy to get back to work now."
Bernard stared confusedly at the elf in the red dress for a moment before reluctantly muttering, "Uh, get back to work."
Judy frowned disappointedly at Curtis. Curtis shrugged, and she trudged off. "Have you told Santa that I have amnesia?" Bernard asked.
"Uh, yep, I have," Curtis fibbed. "No need to say a word to him, okay?"
The oblivious head elf nodded. "Want to play some tinsel football?" suggested Curtis.
"Sure."
Curtis's face split in a devious grin. It wasn't exactly tinsel football they played outside, since they were only underhandedly tossing the ball back and forth aimlessly. But the other elves' breaks were over, so it was just the two of them. Bernard dropped the ball at least three times before he was able to catch it. "You must've never played with a football before, Bernard," Curtis noticed.
"Even if I did, I wouldn't remember," Bernard weakly chucked the ball in Curtis's general direction, "and are you sure this is okay? Playing instead of working, I mean."
"You're terrible at throwing, too. And yeah, we do this all the time. You're head elf, remember? You're in charge, below Santa, anyway."
"Okay."
Bernard hadn't sounded the same since losing his memory. His voice was much more passive and inquisitive, as opposed to his old, cranky, nit-picky, and pessimistic self. Curtis loved it, and he loved getting to do what he wanted for a change instead of being made to do stuff. It was always "Do this" and "Make that" or "You're supposed to fix toys, not play with them." Curtis froze when he saw Santa approaching. "What are you guys doing?" Santa asked.
"We're playing tinsel football," Bernard stated overenthusiastically.
Santa raised his eyebrows. "You're actually playing with Curtis?"
Bernard looked confused. "Of course I am. Why—?"
"We were testing the new football I made!" Curtis cut Bernard off. "It flies three feet farther than the average football."
Santa's suspicion changed to interest. "Cool! You'll have to show me how it works later. Mrs. Claus's cleaning the kitchen and wants my help."
"Ooh. Tell her I said hi," Bernard squeaked.
Santa's suspicion momentarily returned, but he dismissed it and left. Curtis sighed, "Phew! That was too close."
"Too close to what?" the amnesiac elf asked.
"Never mind, let's go get some hot cocoa and see if Mint from accounting has any leftover strudel."
"Who's Mint?"
Curtis ignored the question and pulled his ignorant friend along. The two sat on the balcony above the toy making room, hot cocoa in hand. However, they failed to find Mint's strudel. Bernard's and Curtis's legs dangled between the railings. "So, when do we work?" asked Bernard.
"Not yet. I still want to build a snowman. Then you can go back to work."
Bernard took another sip of cocoa. The sound of large boots stomping behind them approached. "Why aren't you guys working?" Santa's voice scolded.
They scrambled to their feet, nearly spilling cocoa. "We, uh . . .," Curtis tried.
"Curtis said it was okay," Bernard explained, as if that made it better.
Curtis smacked his forehead. He was doomed. "I . . .," Curtis broke off. He had to tell the truth, it was the only way. "I'm sorry, Santa. Bernard doesn't remember a thing because he hit his head on ice because I broke Judy's ice sculpture and I've been lying to him since he woke up!" he spouted all at once, hoping Santa would get confused and walk away.
Santa stared in shock, and Bernard burst out laughing. Curtis looked daggers at Bernard. "What's so funny?" Curtis spat.
Bernard composed himself. "I've had my memory the whole time! Well, not exactly the whole time. When you told me who were where after I woke up, I remembered. I was pretending all this time!"
Santa chuckled. "I knew as well. Bernard told me while you were busy making hot cocoa. When he said what he was doing, I thought it would help teach you a lesson, Curtis."
Curtis glared at both of them. He felt like he was being ganged up on. "I don't believe this! Ugh, I'm never playing football again!"
When Curtis stormed off, Santa and Bernard laughed together. "Were you really pretending to stink at tinsel football?" Santa wondered.
The head elf looked down and away in shame. "I should get back to work," he muttered, and left, Santa chuckling.