Rating: K

Setting: AU

Warnings: None

Notes: Elsa's POV

Day Two: Deck the Halls

I sigh as I follow my parents through the double doors and into a dank hallway that smells of mold. We're at the city's local homeless shelter for our annual "family tradition" of helping the organization decorate their facility for the holidays. I don't know how I manage to keep getting roped into this year after year.

And, before anyone starts making accusations, I do have a heart. Despite my façade of "Ice Queen" at school, I am actually a friendly person; once you get past the many walls I have built up, that is.

I also really don't mind community or volunteer work if it's something I get to choose on my own, which this—for the past seven years—is not.

I usually just spend the two hours making generic Christmas cards for the little kids that live here since I like to draw.

That, and avoid human interaction at all cost.

Don't get me wrong, I have friends, but it's a miracle I have any to begin with. I'm very introverted, which may be the biggest reason why I've been dubbed the Ice Queen due to my lack of speaking. Anyway, I hate interaction with strangers, and homeless people even more.

I mean, I understand sometimes they can't help being homeless, but why not just seek a shelter such as this and try to pick yourself back up? Why go around all day every day accosting people for money?

But whatever, I'm not heartless, just bored of the same old thing year after year. Although I guess I should be relieved that creepy, old guy from last year doesn't seem to be around this time.

"Elsa," my mother addresses me, "your father and I are going to help bring the tree in from the yard. Why don't you get started on those cards of yours?"

Nodding silently, I head off in the direction of the cafeteria. Upon entering however, I notice there is someone else present already. Usually, I'm the only one in here making cards, so this is somewhat startling.

Doing my best to avoid striking up conversation, I stalk over to the opposite end of the table, gathering a stack of paper and an array of markers on my way. I sit down silently and begin working.

Several minutes pass before I chance looking down the table. What shocks me even more is that not only is there someone else in here with me, but it's a girl.

A young girl; younger than me even.

I watch her push her glasses up her nose before it hits me.

I know this girl.

She goes to my school.

Not just that, but we have history and math together.

What on Earth is she doing here?

As if she could hear me think, she looks up and suddenly we're staring at each other. Recognition dawns over her face before I glance away out of nerves.

There's another moment of silence before she clears her throat.

"Elsa, right?"

Startled, I look back up. She's smiling kindly at me while I just stare at her slack-jawed.

Hesitating only a moment, she starts to gather her things and move to slide down the table closer to me.

My heart leaps to my throat. She wants to talk.

"What are you doing here?" she asks once she takes a seat only one away from me, her expression still welcoming.

"Uh, my parents and I help out with the Christmas decorations every year," I reply.

She nods at my answer before going back to her work. My gaze stays trained on her as I think of something to say. I may not like talking to strangers, but technically this girl isn't a complete stranger, and it's the least I can do to talk to her since we're the only ones present and she made the effort to sit next to me.

"I've...never seen you here before," I say. "New volunteer?"

She's smiling again as she shakes her head, but there's a sadness shimmering just behind the smile in her eyes.

It takes me a moment, but I suddenly get it and I wish I didn't.

Suddenly everything makes sense.

Why this girl always wears clothes too big for her to school, why people tease her because sometimes it's obvious she hasn't showered, why her glasses have had a crack in the right frame for over two months now, why she has no friends.

She's homeless.

She lives here.

And she can't be older than sixteen.

"You figured it out, huh?" she asks with a slight chuckle.

"You…you live here?" I ask, almost afraid for confirmation.

She shrugs and responds, "It's better than the streets, let me tell you."

"You're homeless?"

Sheesh, could I say something nice for a change?

"Yeah," the girl answers with a sigh. "Guess that explains why I showed up halfway through this semester, huh?"

Among other things, I think.

My throat is dry when I attempt to swallow. We let another silence pass between us as we both observe each other. She's dressed in an overly-large flannel that seems to be attempting to swallow her where she sits, her jeans dirty and with two large holes on each knee. Despite this, her hair is well-kept; immaculate even. Her copper-red locks are tied into twin plaits, and with a quirk of a smile, I notice one lone blonde lock mixed in.

"I… I'm sorry, but I don't know your name," I tell her after what seems like forever.

She laughs in turn and I feel my cheeks heat up. At least she's not mad.

"That's okay," she says. "I keep to myself at school like you, so not a lot of people know me." Adding on bitterly as her eyes become downcast, she mumbles, "Not like it helps with the teasing though."

Instantly I feel sorry for her, and slowly, my perception of the homeless begins to change. I'm so quick to judge them all the time; I don't know their backgrounds. If I am to continue judging the countless homeless people I've encountered in my lifetime and am sure to encounter in the future, then that means I should be judging Anna as well by proxy.

But I don't find myself wanting to judge her, I find myself thinking. To me, she's just a kid who's had the misfortune of not being so lucky in life. What's to keep me from thinking the same of the other homeless people out there?

"I'm Anna, by the way," the girl pipes up again, stretching an arm out towards me. "It's nice to officially meet you, Elsa."

Without hesitating on how dirty her hand may be, I take it, giving it a firm shake.

I even crack a smile.

XxXxX

Anna and I spend the rest of the time basically attached at the hip. We get the cards done in no time between the two of us, and then we move on to help hang wreaths on each of the residences' doors. We're taking a small break and just sitting on the floor chatting when my parents find us.

They both seem surprised—albeit pleasantly—when they notice Anna beside me.

"Make a friend?" my dad asks.

"Technically I already knew her," I say, smiling at Anna.

She chuckles shyly before addressing my parents. "We both tend to keep to ourselves at school."

"Well, it's nice you all finally got a chance to talk," mom says.

I'm thankful they don't ask Anna why she's here like I did. My parents love the homeless if our volunteer work says anything, but I don't want them to smother Anna with condolences that often sound so genuine they come off as fake or their deepest apologies. Luckily, they just smile at her before they're looking at me again.

"We're getting ready to leave, Elsa," dad tells me. "Meet us by the front doors, okay?"

I nod and Anna and I watch them walk away, leaving us in a slightly awkward silence.

"So," she begins, "see you next semester?"

I nod and turn to walk away. Glancing over my shoulder to wave goodbye, I notice the somewhat crestfallen look on Anna's face.

Biting my lip, I turn back around.

"You know…" I start, managing to smile somewhat. "I sometimes work the Christmas Day dinner buffet here."

I see her face light back up and my quasi-smile becomes genuine.

"So I'll see you then?" she asks, not even bothering to keep the hopeful tone at bay.

I nod once more before she has me in a tight hug and is laughing in my ear.

My arms wrap around her waist completely on their own; although I definitely don't mind the warmth it brings me.

"You know," she says, her breath catching slightly, "you're the first person besides the teachers to treat me like a human."

"Well, you are human," I tell her. "Where you live or don't live shouldn't matter to those kids, and it sure doesn't matter to me."

I feel her squeeze me softly once more as she whispers, "Thank you, Elsa."

Smiling an honest to god smile, I whisper back, "What are friends for?"

Of course, now that I'm writing these, Sucker Punch is falling even further behind. I really didn't want another week to pass, but… It did.

*sighs* Oh well, keep your hats on, I can juggle them both.

Hopefully…