The next several hours passed with Beck sullenly continuing her work and shooting glares at Bernard. He completely ignored her, calmly signing documents and performance reports.
When Beck finished, she left her papers stacked neatly in piles on the floor and sat against the wall, pulling an emery board from her pocket.
The room was silent but for the "zip" of the nail file, and it grated on Bernard's nerves. He tried to ignore it.
Zip. Zip. Zip. Zzzip.
His grip tightened on the forms in front of him and he tried to block it out.
Zip. Zip.
His fingers twitched and he drummed them impatiently on the mahogany desk. A blue vein appeared in his forehead.
Zzzzzzzip.
He tore his gaze from the papers and slapped them down on the wood surface, annoyed. He glared at his charge, but Beck was completely engrossed in her nails. He noticed that they were short and neat, the cuticles well-cared for. She didn't have working hands. They were small and delicate, soft like a child's.
Beck breathed on her nails and shined them on her shirt, pulling her hand away to examine them. Bernard decided to let it go and concentrated on his work.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
He froze, pen in mid-air.
Crrrack.
He slammed the forms down once again. "Seriously?"
"What?" Beck looked up with wide, innocent eyes, hands poised to crack the knuckles on the other hand.
Pop.
"That is disgusting."
"Oh?" Beck continued to stare at him. She rolled her shoulders, relieving them from their sockets for a moment. She tried to suppress a smile when Bernard visibly cringed, clenching his jaw. He glared at her again. "Is it? Is it really?" She placed one hand on her jaw, her other arm wrapping around her head. Her mouth twisted into a crooked grin.
"Beck…" He said through his teeth, standing and pointing at her warningly.
She raised her eyebrows and her mouth formed into a mock-shocked "O" shape.
"Don't do it-"
CRRRRRRRRRRACK.
"UGH! So disgusting!" Bernard shuddered as Beck rolled her neck, popping the vertebrae back into place. He sat back down, shuddering once again.
Beck stood up from her spot on the floor, stretching and belching loudly.
"Ladylike." Bernard muttered dryly.
"I know," Beck sighed. "My grandmother called it 'rifting.' Classy, huh?" She fussed with her hair. "Can you point me in the direction of the little girls' room? They've changed the layout since I've been exiled."
Bernard caught her bitter tone and corrected her. "Suspended. There's a difference. And why?" He bent over his desk again.
Beck planted her hands on the wooden surface and leaned in so that her face was right by his. He realized she was there and looked up slowly, starting when her face was in his. Her eyes were narrowed aggressively and she smelled like red cedar.
"Because I have to urinate." She murmured as if she were talking to a small child, smirking at his uncomfortable expression. Bernard's pointed ears turned bright red and he stared at her awkwardly for a moment.
"Uh – down the hall and to your left?"
She leaned closer and breathed in his ear, "Much obliged." She breezed out of the room. Until then, Bernard hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath.
When Beck exited the stall, she stopped at the mirror to check her heavy eye makeup and pull down the neckline of her v-neck a little more. A group of younger elves were standing by the sinks whispering and giggling, and when she raised a predatory eyebrow at them, they silenced immediately.
Beck strolled out of the restroom and stopped for a moment, thoughtful. She looked down the hallway towards Bernard's office and walked in the opposite direction.
She wandered around the workshop for a while, smirking at the elves that would see her and then walk quickly away. Soon a sweet, warm aroma wafted towards her. Beck followed her nose down another hallway until she heard the bustling and clinking noises of the kitchen.
The room was several degrees warmer than the hall, heavy with steam. Elves in aprons and chef's hats rushed by her busily, holding their ingredients and confections. Beck noticed one of the dishwashers glance at her and quickly, nervously, hide the kitchen knives he had finished washing in a drawer. Beck was annoyed at the paranoid gesture, but was almost tickled that she had left such an impression. She sauntered over to a platter piled high with snicker doodles, and plucked one off the top, chewing gleefully. She smiled to herself as a cook swept by and removed the tray from her immediate vicinity, shooting her a dirty look.
Bernard glanced at the grandmother clock on the wall, its pendulum having ceased its swinging decades ago. Beck had been gone for twenty minutes.
He clenched his jaw again, cursing himself for not foreseeing this.
Honestly, what did I expect?
He stood and grabbed his satchel, leaving his office hurriedly. He had a few choice words for his charge.
Beck reveled in the power that was at her fingertips; she could stroll around at will with no one brave enough to stop her. She swiped some icing off of a cake as she passed, licking her finger. No one stopped her. In fact, most of the diminutive elves in the workshop kitchen strove to avoid direct eye contact altogether.
"Shouldn't you be somewhere else?" a voice said from behind her. She turned to see the chubby Number Two elf, Curtis.
"Maybe. I don't know. I think the Boss Man had it all under control." She shrugged nonchalantly, hopping up to sit on the counter. Curtis peered up at her from behind his glasses. He wasn't afraid of her. He had heard stories, but had never met Beck in the past, having still been in elf school when she was suspended. She swung her legs and smirked. He had no idea what she could do.
"Listen, Calvin-"
"It's Curtis."
"It's irrelevant."
"Beck." She heard Bernard bark from the doorway of the kitchen. She rolled her eyes and grabbed a toothpick from a nearby jar, picking her teeth with it. The other elves tried to look busy. "Just what are you doing? You were supposed to come right back!" He marched up to her, huffily, trying to look authoritative.
"I don't recall you ever telling me to come back at all." She yawned, flicking the toothpick away so that it landed in a passing elf's hair. "You were too busy blushing and acting obnoxiously awkward. Just a tip – ladies like the confident type." She winked.
Bernard took a deep breath, irritated. This was so like Beck; she was trying to embarrass him and get him off track, the little tart. He pressed on. "What are you even doing in here? Last time I checked, the cooks had to threaten you do keep you out of the kitchen."
"Ha-ha." She muttered. "I was hungry."
"Right. It's not like I was going to neglect to feed you, Beck." Truthfully, Bernard had forgotten, but not on purpose. Half the time, he forgot to feed himself.
"I'm sure." Beck folded her arms across her chest, knowing full well that her cleavage was being further pushed at the already dangerously low neckline. She smirked at the knowledge that people were staring.
"You still have loads of work to do, and you're coming back one way or another. How about you save us both the trouble?" Bernard determinedly stared at her face, fully aware that her "assets" were saying hello. He knew exactly what she was doing, and would not let her win. Meanwhile, Curtis had slipped out, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.
Beck hopped down from the counter and stood face-to-face with him. He was trying to use the same tactic he had when convincing her to come back to the Pole quietly (so to speak). She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of it working on her again. "How about I light you on fire?" She spat venomously. She may have come back, but Hell would freeze over before she would make this easy for him.
"Beck, stop it. You're making a scene." He hissed at her, glancing around them.
"Oh? What told you that?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
Two can play at this game. "It's a gift. I'm an adept people-watcher." He stated dryly.
Beck cast a sideways glance at a nearby chef who was icing a cake. She elbowed her in a chummy way. "This guy-" - she gestured to Bernard - "says I'm making a scene. Is that not the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard?"
The girl nervously shifted from foot to foot. "Uh…"
"See, if I was making a scene I would be doing this!" She hoisted herself up onto the counter, grabbing a wooden spoon.
"Beck-"
She sidestepped the food on the counter, banging on pots and pans that hung from the ceiling.
"Get down from there!" Bernard had completely lost his patience. He followed her along the counter. "You just wait until I get a hold of Santa! The Council won't just suspend you this time! EVER HEARD OF PURGATORY?" He threatened.
Beck completely ignored him. "If I was making a scene, I would knock this cake over! She walked up to the six-tier cake and with a swift movement of her foot, kicked it onto the floor. It collided with the tile face-down with a smoosh. She hopped down from the counter. The entire kitchen was in panic mode at this point.
"I would do this!" She gleefully walked along the length of the counter, shoving past Bernard, and pulled every drawer out, scattering the contents on the floor. She grabbed a pitcher of Judy's special cocoa and walked up to Bernard again, so that their noses were nearly touching. "See? No scene here. I don't know what you're talking about." She slowly, deliberately emptied the drink down his front.
As the liquid stained his clothes, Bernard found himself thankful that the cocoa was made to never burn the skin. The workers in the kitchen had by now stopped what they were doing and were watching the exchange anxiously. He yanked the pitcher from her hand and threw it to the floor angrily.
"Let's go." He grabbed her arm.
"Don't touch me!" She snapped at him, violently taking back possession of her limb. "You don't get to touch me, ever." She declared harshly.
Bernard stopped at her words. He didn't know why, but they struck a chord in him. The two stared at each other and he saw something in her eyes; bitterness, of course, but also something akin to the expression one might see on an injured stray cat. He wanted to look away, but that would be like backing down. So he held her gaze and said, "Alright everyone! Nothing to see here! Back to work!" The kitchen buzzed to life once again. Then he addressed her directly, sternly. "If you think I'm just going to let you have your way all the time, you are sadly mistaken. I am the Head Elf, and you are on probation. This will not be tolerated. You are going to clean all of this up, right now."
"Well gee, Mussolini," Beck remarked snidely as he pushed a mop and bucket into her hands. "Someone really knows how to run a camp."
"That was Hitler," He corrected her.
She rolled her eyes again. "Whatever. Regardless, they were both tyrants."
Bernard ignored her complaints and waited while she cleaned up every last bit of cake, every last drop of the now cold cocoa. She finished replacing the utensils in their proper places in the drawers and sighed, tracing the tiles with her sneaker.
"So are you going to feed me, or what?" Her bravado was gone, but her attitude and impatience was not.
Bernard rolled his eyes. "I won't forget about you."
"Where have I heard that before?" Her voice was soft again, bitter.
Bernard looked back at her, stung. She pointedly looked away from him, hands on her hips. Beck wanted to scream at him. Who are you? This is so messed up! I want things to be like they were!
"Let's go."
Hey guys!
Sorry I kind of dropped off the face of the earth, there. I was banned from the computer.
Don't drink gin, kids. It messes with your head.
So anyway, what's happened in the time since I was a lush?
Well, we've got about four feet of snow here on the ground in good ol' Maryland. Thank goodness I live below the Mason Dixon line, where we get an inch of snow and folks put chains on their tires.
Why should you care?
Because I've had lots of time to work on the story for y'all.
You are all very welcome.
Hopefully I can get some more chapters out very soon to make up for my hiatus!
And thank you to everyone who has read, favorited, alerted, and most of all, reviewed my story. It really means the world to me. You guys help keep me going. :)
Review please! Critiques welcome!!