I stepped back and eyed the outfit I’d put together for gender-nonconforming pre-teen #4923. The outfit was casual but sophisticated, with relaxed jeans, a nerdy T-shirt, and an unzipped black hoodie.

Lucy stopped next to me and held out her hand for a fist-bump.

“You’re getting super good at this!” she said.

“I should be by now,” I said.

I’d put together literally hundreds of outfits in the past few days. It wasn’t the most interesting thing I’d ever done, but I had to admit there was a certain pleasure in rolling a completed mannequin into the other room and knowing that outfit would be under Christmas trees in a few weeks.

It made a difference in the world—a tiny, superficial, unimportant difference—and it beat any other job I’d had by a long shot.

I wheeled the next empty mannequin over to my table and turned to profile #4924. Before I could read more than a few words, I heard someone call my name.

I stood and turned around to see Noelle striding toward me. My shoulders tensed.

Her dark hair was bound back in a headband today, and it gave her a deceptively bubbly look, as if she’s just been transformed into a freshman sorority girl named Daphne who liked puppies and lip gloss. The eyes beneath the headband, though, were as sharp as ever.

“You’ve been reassigned,” she said, tapping her clipboard with her pen.

I grabbed the mannequin, reflexively, as though it might keep me in the room.

“Again?” I said.

I hadn’t wanted one new job, let alone three. The House of Claus would be an okay way to pass the time if they’d just leave me to it.

I glanced at Lucy, who was looking at Noelle with a furrowed brow on her usually carefree face. She shrugged at me and shook her head. Apparently, she hadn’t expected this either.

“How often do you move people around?” I said.

“Santa wants you reassigned,” Noelle said. “He needs help with a special project and it seems you’re the only one who’s got what it takes.”

My stomach dropped. Did the Workshop have a grocery store I didn’t know about? Or was he just looking for someone with awesome skills in racking up debt or flunking out of three different majors? I couldn’t think of anyone else I knew who’d managed to fail out of humanities. Maybe that was a special skill?

I didn’t have the heart to argue. If I’d learned anything about the North Pole, it was that whatever Santa wanted, Santa got.

I sighed, handed my mannequin off to Lucy, and followed Noelle out of the room.

Mary stood in the hallway, chatting animatedly with an elf with a scruffy five o’ clock shadow and manbun. He looked like he would have been right at home back in Colorado, and I couldn’t decide if I missed the town that had become home over the past few years.

Mary flagged us down, and we stood off to the side while she finished her conversation about appliqués. Finally, she turned to us.

“Moving on already?”

Maybe Mary could talk Santa into letting me stay in one place for more than two seconds. She seemed like the only person around here who had any kind of authority over him. I opened my mouth to ask, but Noelle was already talking over me.

“Santa’s requested Holly’s help with a project,” she said. “He’s been working on sleigh repair, but that’s not the only transport component that’s out of whack.”

Mary’s intense face softened into an amused smile. “Still having trouble, are they?”

“Apparently.” Whatever they were talking about, Noelle seemed to find it ridiculous. “He seems to think they’ll do better if she’s around.” She tilted her head towards me.

Mary laughed. “I’m sure they will.” She held out a hand, and I awkwardly shook it. She shook mine back, holding it in both of hers.

“Do your best,” she said. “I’ve loved having you here, as I know Lucy has, but it seems you’re needed elsewhere. Do stop by and let me know how things are going.”

“Actually—” I said, and then I was being marched away by Noelle, who had a firm hand on my shoulder.

I wriggled out from under her touch, and she gave me a weird look.

We walked out of the House of Claus wing and straight through the doors at the end of the hall. These doors led to the center of the whole snowflake, and the sight inside was like something straight out of a holiday card.

An enormous circular balcony let us look down onto a room where hundreds of elves, maybe thousands, sat at long wooden benches or scurried around with toys in their arms. They all wore green uniforms with white collars, gleaming brass buttons, and jaunty red caps. Christmas music blared from hidden speakers, and the room smelled faintly like sawdust and pine needles.

A few elves in conductor’s caps tested a toy train that ran around the edge of the balcony. Down in the room, the tables were crowded with old-fashioned toys under construction: wooden rattles, hand-carved horses, brightly colored blocks, model airplanes, spinning tops, and about a hundred other kinds of playthings.

My Christmases growing up had always been full of bright plastic junk I’d seen on TV, but everything below us was handmade and exquisite.

Noelle let me take it all in for a moment, then cleared her throat.

“For the tourists,” she said with an eye roll. “But this is the fastest way across the building.”

She led me around the room to a door on the other side of the balcony. The doors were all painted gold on this side, and the deep blue walls behind them were decorated with silver snowflakes.

The music faded as the door fell shut behind us, and I was almost sad to hear it go.

What was wrong with me?

I folded my arms and walked behind Noelle as she led me down yet another wing. The doors down this side were irregular, some of them much wider than others. Reindeer antlers were mounted on the wall, and plaques underneath said things like “Comet, Age 7” and “Dancer, Age 106.” I frowned at these as we walked by. Did reindeer really shed their antlers? How about immortal reindeer?

Noelle pushed open a door that said Staff. I followed her into the dark room and was hit with the smell of hay and horses.

No, not horses.

Santa looked up from where he’d been currying a reindeer in a far stall. He straightened, stretched with his hands on his lower back, and waved us over.

The reindeer came to the edges of their large stalls and looked at me as I passed with dark eyes. Their eyes seemed intelligent—too intelligent. Then again, I thought, that would make sense if Dancer really was in her hundreds. She was probably smarter than me by now.

I stopped at one of the stalls and held out a hand. The reindeer—Dasher, according to the plaque on his stall door—nuzzled me and sniffed deeply, as if he were trying to learn about me from my scent.

“He’s glad to see you,” Santa said, coming up behind me. “Thanks, Noelle. I’ll take it from here.”

Noelle nodded briskly and turned to leave. She stopped before she walked out the door to feed Vixen a cluster of moss that had been lying on the floor. The reindeer snuffled with pleasure.

When she was gone, Santa turned to me and wiped his hands off on his jeans. He was in flannel again today, along with blue jeans and brown suspenders. He was as casual and country as Mary was city and sophisticated. I wondered how they’d ever ended up together.

“Is this my new assignment?” I said.

In spite of myself, a tiny bubble of hope rose up in my chest. Sewing eyes on teddy bears had been okay and the House of Claus had come with some genuinely pleasant moments, but this? My eyes flickered away from Santa and back toward Dasher. He watched me, his eyes curious and unblinking.

“I need your help here,” Santa said. He patted Cupid on the nose, and she leaned happily into the touch.

“Noelle and Mary made it sound like I was the only one who could help here,” I said. “But I don’t know anything about them.”

“You’ll learn, but that’s not why you’re needed.” He chuckled, resting a hand on his belly. “They needed to see you’re all right.”

I tilted my head. “What?”

“They’ve never run over anyone before,” Santa said. “Not as adults, anyway; there’s no accounting for calves. They haven’t been right since you got back and no matter how many times I tell them you’re fine, they won’t settle.”

He waved a hand toward the reindeer, all of whom were standing with their heads eagerly hanging out of the stalls. Bright, dark eyes fixed on me.

“See? She’s perfectly all right.”

He nudged me.

“Yes,” I said, although it felt odd to talk to them like they were people. “I’m totally fine.”

I held up my hands, as if that would mean anything to them, and looked up at Santa. He patted my shoulder with a large, heavy hand and laughed.

I liked his laugh. I couldn’t help it. He seemed more relaxed here than I’d seen him yet, and I could understand why. Something about the dark warmth of this stable made me feel peaceful and settled in a way I hadn’t experienced since I’d first woken up at the North Pole.

Santa held out the rubber comb he’d been using on one of the reindeer.

“You can do Cupid,” he said. “He’s a sweetheart.”

I took a step back. He held the comb out further until I finally took it.

“I don’t know anything about reindeer,” I said. “Literally nothing. I didn’t even know you were supposed to brush them.”

He hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “Well, you aren’t, ordinarily,” he said. “These are no ordinary reindeer.”

“Is Dancer really a hundred and six?”

“And seventeen,” he said. He nodded his bearded chin toward her. I looked, but she seemed young to me, and healthy, with a shining coat and gleaming chocolate eyes.

“Go on,” Santa said.

I was drawn to the possibility of making friends with one of these animals. I approached Cupid’s stall, my heart pounding. He was beautiful, smaller than a horse but with giant antlers.

Those antlers gave me pause. While his shoulders didn’t even come up to mine, his antlers were taller than my head and edged with sharp points. They looked like they could take my eye out.

I lifted the heavy latch on the stall door. Cupid backed up a few paces, as if he could sense how nervous I was and wanted to give me space.

Then, he took a careful step forward and pressed his nose against my shoulder, and I melted.

“Hi,” I said softly. I reached out and patted his neck. He chuffed and leaned into the touch.

“Hold the comb firmly,” Santa instructed from outside the stall. “Be gentle and brush into the direction of his hair. Careful on his rump. He’s ticklish.”

I started brushing. Santa watched me for a moment, then walked off.

After that, it was just Cupid and me, and I was surprised at how comfortable it felt to be standing here with him. He was used to being brushed and moved slowly as though not to spook me.

“Were you worried about me?” I said in a low voice, combing down from the top of his neck. “It’s nice of you guys to care. I didn’t know reindeer could worry about things. But I guess you’re not like most reindeer.”

He grunted. I kept brushing.

Time seemed to slip around me as I settled into the gentle, repetitive motions. When Santa came back, he had to say my name a few times before I realized he was standing there.

“I want to check in,” he said, once he had my attention. He leaned against the stall door and looked at me through the open window. “You doing all right here?”

I shrugged, and went back to brushing Cupid. It was easier to look at him than at Santa, and the reindeer seemed to love the attention.

“I’m okay, I guess,” I said to Cupid’s shoulder. “Everyone’s been welcoming.”

“You still want to get home, though.”

It wasn’t a question, for him or for me. Although I couldn’t think of a single reason I should want to go home. I had no family worth the name. I was terrible at staying in touch with friends. My job was a dead end, and it seemed likely that even the most tenacious bill collectors couldn’t follow me here.

Even so, I didn’t fit in. I didn’t have the relentlessly positive attitude the elves all seemed to share; I didn’t particularly enjoy Christmas on one day of the year, let alone all of them; and, not insignificantly, I seemed to be the only human in the entire North Pole.

I wasn’t part of this world, and I couldn’t think of a single reason anyone here should want me to be.

“I’m a Humdrum,” I said. It was a word that summed me up too perfectly. I massaged the comb into Cupid’s side and he snorted and leaned into the touch, hard enough that I had to step back to keep my balance.

“We’re still working hard on the sleigh.” Santa ran his hand along his chin and down his beard, then cleared his throat. “I understand you’ve been asking after Prince Jack.”

My heart sank. This was why I was here. It had nothing to do with the reindeer or their concern for me.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “Everyone made it pretty clear he’s bad news.”

“I want to be sure you know that,” Santa said. “I don’t want to see you get involved with him.”

He sounded genuinely worried, but I couldn’t help wondering if he wouldn’t be happier if Frost could just take me home and get me out of everyone’s hair.

“Not much risk of that,” I said.

Santa seemed to be debating on whether to say anything more, then nodded and just said, “Good.”

He moved to walk away.

“Santa?”

He stopped.

“Are you sending me back to House of Claus after today?”

His white eyebrows went up, just a little. “Mary said you seemed to be enjoying it there.”

“I was,” I said. I glanced down at Cupid, whose eyes were closed in pleasure over the feel of the brush against his thick fur. “It’s just—could I get reassigned here? Permanently, I mean? Or, as permanently as I can, since I’m going home soon?”

Santa seemed surprised, and looked at Cupid for a moment.

“I suppose so,” he said. “If you enjoy it.”

I swallowed hard and nodded as my heart skipped a beat. I didn’t love Christmas, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about the North Pole.

But I knew, already, that I loved these reindeer.

“Well, sure,” Santa said, tapping his fingers against his belly. “Consider yourself reassigned. Felix runs the stables, so he’ll get you trained up.”

“That would be great,” I said. “Thank you.”

Santa watched us for a moment, then said, “Huh” in a low, bemused voice and left the stables.

I turned back to Cupid and buried my fingers in his thick fur.