Grace got an early Christmas present this year. While shopping for some toys for the bosses kids, she saw none other than Cheyenne Wilson. How funny was it that the class valedictorian and “Most Likely to Succeed” was working as an elf in a toy store. It was especially funny for Grace, who was second in both of those contests.

“Wow, Cheyenne, how are you? You’re looking…festive,” Grace said with a grin, standing over the elf in her heels. Petty, yes. Satisfying? Also yes.

“Oh, hey Gracie! You look like you’ve done well for yourself,” Cheyenne said, her jovial smile betraying no embarrassment over Grace’s mocking.

“It’s just Grace now. And yeah, things are good. They’re talking of making me a senior analyst next year. Not bad for someone my age.”

“I know the feeling. Wentworth, he’s one of the head elves, wants to make me his senior apprentice. His toy designs are amazing. Like, I didn’t know you could do that kind of stuff with plastic.” Cheyenne said, her voice as merry as the bells on her shoes.

“Wow. Apprentice toymaker. Just how long have you been one of Santa’s elves?” Grace said, sarcasm laced in her voice. But it was sarcasm Cheyenne never picked up on.

“Oh, I’m not an elf. Santa’s been hiring skilled humans for generations. I’m still one of the best toymakers my level in the north pole. I can whip up a doll in ten seconds flat,” she said, her voice proud despite her pointy hat.

“Ten seconds, huh? I’d sure love to see that.” Grace said. It was one thing to pretend to be an elf, it was another to make bold claims that you couldn’t back up.

“I’d love to. Stand still, ok?” Cheyenne brought up her hands and made motions as if stitching thread. The motions got faster, her gaze more intent. Real magic began to stir that made Grace’s stomach twist as she realized she was Cheyenne’s focus.

“You don’t have to—” she started, but the toymaker was already finished. Gone were Grace’s suit and heels, her jewelry and phone, replaced with a jester’s tunic and hat, simple and delightful. The costume didn’t just replace her clothes, but became part of Grace, she part of it, right down to her curly toed shoes.

Grace looked down at herself, astonished at what had become of her while thoughts of toy boxes, toy adventures, and toy cuddles filled her mind. This wasn’t happening, it wasn’t possible, but the proof was so obvious that—

“Wow, cool toy! What does it do?” A man asked, looking right at Grace with bright blue eyes filled with wonder.

“Excuse me?” Gracie said, realizing that she was the cool toy he was talking about.

But Cheyenne stepped up with a bold smile, filled with pride over her latest creation. “Oh, this is Gracie the Toy Jester, and she doesn’t just tell jokes, but she can sing and dance whenever you want her to. I designed her to remind people of the joys of simple play, without the need for competition.”

“Listen, I am none of those things. I’m a junior analyst at a Fortune 500 company!” she said as the man took her hand and began to lead her to the front counter. “I have an office!” she continued, trying to think up and list the ways she shouldn’t be treated like this, but each plea was falling on deaf ears. Gracie turned back to Cheyenne, pleading her case: “I’m sorry, ok, I’ve learned my lesson, I won’t be mean to you anymore or make fun of you for being an elf, or…”

 But the toymaker looked confused, waving off her toy’s protests, “I didn’t do this as a punishment. I know you, Gracie, and how you’re successful at whatever you put your mind to. Debate club, school, work. Now, you’re going to be super successful at being someone’s toy.”