Chapter One: Des

Chapter One

Of Des

            “Mia… Mia came what, the first winter in our castle? Must have been—we were only just engaged, right, Theia?” Storm stopped, horrified, realizing that she had just asked Theia a non-accusatory question. “Well, anyway. See, we were in here, opening presents—”

            “Didn’t you get me a toothbrush that year?”

             “We’d just moved into an effing castle, it’s not like I had a lot of change. Anyway. We were in here, opening presents and stuff when out of nowhere a baby starts crying. So we look around, a little freaked out—”

            “A little? ‘Theia, does this castle have a baby infestation that we didn’t know about?’”

            “Shut up, Theia. As I was saying, we look around, trying to peel wrapping paper off our fingers, and in the fireplace there’s this little baby covered in soot.”

            Everyone turned towards the aforementioned fireplace, quite possibly imagining a baby sitting in the flames.

            Storm realized this was the quietest it had been all of Christmas break. It was rather nice.

            “That’s kind of gross, Des-Mom.” The lights were reflecting in Juliet’s eyes, making her look rather evil. “Seriously gross.”

            Des rubbed her skin.

            “Eh, it wasn’t that bad. They exaggerate.” Sheva rolled onto her stomach, looking up at everyone else. “I bet it’s almost washed off by now.”

            Everyone laughed, except for Juliet, who edged away a few inches, flipping her long dark hair over one shoulder.

            Theia reached up and tried to pull Brock off her head. “And then I walked over and read the note that was taped to your—“

            “—forehead. I was telling the story, Laura. Be quiet.” Storm chucked a pillow at her.

            Theia gaped at Storm for a moment, and then whipped a massive supersoaker out from under the couch, where she had saved it should such an occasion ever arise.

            “Domestic violence sets a bad example for the children!” Ave shrieked as Storm picked up the bow she always claimed was only hanging on the wall for decoration and loaded a fart arrow. “Mummy—”
            “Yammy, don’t you dare—”

            “Plug your nose!”

            Shadow snorted, blowing a plume of smoke into everyone’s faces. During the coughing and the swearing that followed—“Goddamyt, Shadow, I’m going to have to make someone air out the furniture again,”—Storm and Theia lowered their weapons.

            “Anyway. So according to the note, this is what happened:

            See, Santa once had an elf. But this elf had no aptitude for crafts, though she could write really, really well. They think that something went wrong in the genetic tinkering they did to make the elfs good craftsmen, for she was good—or better—at writing than the others were at making toy cars. Unfortunately, Santa is a materialistic man who values material goods. He and the elf had a bit of a face-off after her attempt at making a Zhu Zhu pet went awry, and the fake hamster bit the buckle off one of Santa’s boots.

            But the elf sent such a persuasive letter on why she should not be smited that Santa realized that her skills were wasted at the assembly line.

            So he turned her into a baby.”

            “Hoooooold up.” Kal poked her sister. “You mean Desy is an elf? I thought that nearly six hundred elves died in toilet related incidents each year!”

            Des hunched over, pushing her glasses up her nose, and looked as though she wished that there were not thirty other people in the room, saying something like “harrumph.”

            “Don’t worry.” Theia patted the former elf on the head. “He turned you into a human. No toilet problems for you.”

            Storm rolled her eyes.

            “So once the elf had been turned into a baby human he had to find her a good home. So he brought here because—”

            “—he loved Storm’s cookies,” said Theia, at the same time as Storm’s “We’re just that awesome.”

            “Stormsry’s cookies aren’t as good as Great Aunt Sheva’s,” Jed said, shoving another cookie into her mouth. “Why didn’t Santa go there?”

            Everyone stared at her for a long moment.

            “Santa doesn’t like kosher cookies,” Rachel said finally.

            Everyone stared some more.

            “Keep going with the story, mummy,” Ave said. Storm blinked.

            “And then Theia looked at me and was like—“

            “Theia looked at me and said—”

            “Shut up, Jessica.”

            “I did not say that!”

            “You shut up too, Theia.” Storm crossed her arms, reclining her armchair some. The footstool extended, and Critter groaned as it hit her.

            “Storm!”

            “Sorry. Do you guys want to hear the end or not?”

            Instantly, again, everything was quiet, except for the vague sound of Xed snoring. He had, it seemed, gotten tired of the conversation.

            “And then Theia was like, ‘STORM! Our daughter's Mozart! Except, you know, a literary-wise and female kind.’”

            Everyone laughed.

            “And that was how Desmia came into our lives.” Theia stopped. “The details of her actual birth, however, are unclear.”

            “You mean elf sex isn’t hot?”

            “Kay!” Sheva covered her eyes. “Mental images.”

            “That’s really how Des got here?” Draco frowned .

            Theia shrugged. “That, or some old lady wrote the story and dropped a baby down the tallest chimney in the castle. Desy wasn’t scratched at all.”

            Silence followed these words as everyone tried to decide which was more likely.

            “It’s got to be Santa,” Luna said finally.