Elf Aura

    “What’s your name, again?”

    That was the night I met Buddy. I call him Bud, though. Bud is much more chill. Seriously, who walks around in an elf costume and identifies themselves as Buddy? Without my help, the guy would still look like an overgrown elf on the shelf. While he gives off this completely delusional vibe, Bud really is the best guy I ever met.

    Before Bud, my life looked like any other billionaire kid’s life in New York, New York. Friends and bullies were one. Snowballs were typically aimed at my head. To top it off, Christmas served purely to remind me of how lonely life is even if it seems like you have everything. With Bud’s extreme optimism, everything changed.

    “Hey, homie," Carlos called out from the bus line. “Wassup?”

    That was one of the times I was forced to decide if rich kids could receive sympathy for the impositions minute compared to regular peoples’ lives. Of course, I always decided my problems weren’t worth mentioning. Being friends with Carlos, I knew the financial hardships he dealt with daily. Besides my parental issues were incomparable to his lack of parents. Throughout my life, my dad always spent all his time consumed in his work and left me to myself. Sometimes my mom was there to comfort me, but after a while I needed more than just “everything he does is for you.” Honestly, he never did anything for anyone but himself. Because of Buddy, though, my dad changed.

    “I’m sorry, Michael.”

    “I know.”

    “I should have listened to you.”

    “I know.”

    A smile pulled at the corners of my dad’s lips. I’d never seen him smile before, but now he was smiling at me. He ruffled my hair as he said, “That’s my boy.”

    Because of my new brother, I got my dad. However, Carlos will never have that. His dad died while working at an unstable chemical plant. During his calculations of the energy output, the reactor caught fire. To prevent the impending explosion, Carlos’ father contained the fire, which cost his life. Because Carlos' mom had abandoned them after the accident, Carlos and his sister went into the foster care system. After a little while, they were separated. Now Carlos travels in and out of foster homes. Some people are nice, and Carlos comes to school happy, but sometimes the placement family is abusive. When he is going through a rough time, I know. I can’t do anything, though. I know what he’s going through, but I don’t understand. I think that is the worst feeling ever. Not being able to help my friend overwhelmed me with helplessness. Still, life goes on and pretending to be normal for a few hours each day was the closest we could get to fixing our issues.

    “Nothing much, man,” I answered like a normal middle school kid should. “You?”

    I knew Carlos would pretend to be normal, too. I knew Carlos didn’t tell me everything. I knew, and I understood. The unspoken words kept us friends. While we came from different backgrounds with different situations that we couldn’t understand, we understood how the other felt.

    “The usual,” was all Carlos said.

    With that, we fell silent until we reach our homeroom. Then, the regular stream of “yo, Michael” and fist bumps ensued. Like every other day, I put on a front and shouted out several “hey, man”s. Predictably, Carlos disappeared into the throng of students swarming me. We both knew my popularity only came from my last name and the loads of money the name implied. Likewise, both of us understood the smiles and high-fives meant nothing. In a matter of seconds, the kids would turn around and whisper to one another about how strange I am, or how weird my family is or anything they could think of. Basically, Carlos and I were homies and that was the extent of my social life.

    Throughout the school day, I floated along with the tide of students. One class after another was better than being home. Seeing my mom try to reach my dad and him only pushing us further away, I hated them. Here, though, Carlos would crack jokes in-between classes, and we’d forget all about what was waiting for us at home.

    Then, the school day was over.

    “Wanna come over to my place and study?” I asked Carlos as we shuffled along the path home that cut through central park.

    A fresh snow covered the ground. The trees glittered with icicles. When the wind blew, the icicles twinkled beautifully. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a red flash. A cardinal flew from branch to branch. Spewing a song from its beak, the cardinal harmonized marvelously with the twinkling icicles. It was like nature’s theme song. Everything was beautiful. Life was perfect for that ephemeral second. However, the second soon passed.

    “No need.”

    Quizzically, I searched my friend’s impassive face for any telltale signs of his meaning. “Dude, the test is Monday. You gotta study.”

    “I told you! There’s no need!” He yelled at me while he continued walking with his eyes focused at the ground.

    I had never seen him so angry. Before he turned to face me, Carlos swiped at a tear tracing its way down his face. Something was wrong. Every day was hard for Carlos, but whatever happened must’ve been horrible. I had never seen Carlos cry before.

    “My social worker thinks there are better ‘opportunities’ in Jersey,” he whispered. As he spoke his voice slowly grew stronger. “Today was my last day. I don’t need to study cause I won't be here to take it.”

    Suddenly, we were at a fork in the trail in front of us. Ironically, one path led to Carlos’ house, and the other would bring me to my empty place. For a minute, we both stood there just looking at the different directions before us. Then, we held each other’s gaze because it would be the last time. We knew it, too.

    “Catch ya later, homie,” Carlos said with a halfcocked smile.

    “Bye.”

    Then, without looking back, we followed our separate paths. All the irony in the world couldn’t make the situation better, but somehow Bud could.

    “Hi, Michael! Michael! Look it’s me. Buddy! Your brother, the elf!” shouted Bud. I tried desperately to ignore him, but he kept following me and screaming me name louder and louder. “Michael! Michael! Michael!!!”

    Undeniably, I thought the guy was senile, and apparently so did the growing number of kids that had collected around us.

    “Yo, Michael! Is that your brother? No wonder you only hang out with losers!” called out one of the kids

    “Oh, are these some of your friends, Michael?” asked Bud unbelievably naïve. “Hello, Michael’s friends. My name is Buddy. I’m from the North Pole.”

    Then, a snowball hurled towards Bud. Because his grin was so cheerfully wide, the snowball found its mark in his mouth. I almost felt bad for him. However, the other kids did not. As soon as the snowball hit his face, the crowd of children burst out laughing. Once his mouth was empty again, Bud shouted, “Snowball fight!” and an avalanche rained down on us. I might have been hating Bud severely for the embarrassment he’d just bestowed on me until he began pummeling the bullies with snowballs. Soaring a mile a minute, the snowballs sent the bullies scrambling for cover.

    “Yeah, man!” I yelled, and turning to Bud, I gave him a victory high-five. “That was low-key awesome!”

    “Alright!” he yelled back as he bounced up and down in a circle. Then, he suddenly stopped and asked, “Is that a good thing?”

    “For sure,” I answered, shaking my head. “For sure.”

    In that moment, I decided the guy wasn’t too bad after all. From decorating the house like Santa’s workshop to pouring syrup on his spaghetti to repurposing the mail room, everyday was an adventure with Bud. While all of us thought the guy was mentally unstable, we overlooked how much happier than us the perpetual optimist lived day in and day out. Everything Bud did stemmed from an innocence that focused only on “spreading Christmas cheer for all to hear.”

    When Bud ran away from home, everything became clear. I had to find my brother. Whether Bud was correct about the North Pole and Santa or completely delusional, I wanted him back. His Christmas spirit had earned him a girlfriend, a brother, and several others who would do anything for their little, big elf. Still, throughout all the insane time we’d spent together, Bud had really been there for me. Now, I needed to be there for him.

    “Santa is real!” I shouted into the live camera for all the world to hear. “This is Santa’s list.”

    Even though the news anchor wanted me off camera, I persisted. I read the holiday wishes of several people. Her Christmas wish included. After saying her wish, I was dragged off camera. It didn’t matter, though. The world already had the evidence it needed to prove Santa’s existence. When the security guards finally silenced me, Bud’s girlfriend stood up and sang for the elf who had shown her what true happiness looks like.

    While I won’t use the same sappy words Bud’s girlfriend used, Bud has changed my life and every other person’s life that he encountered. Because of Bud, my dad found time for his family, his new girlfriend faced her fears, and I found my voice. When I told my family about Carlos’ situation, they couldn’t change it, but I didn’t have to lose my friend. For all of Bud’s insane quirks, he has taught us something. No matter how old you grow, Christmas magic still surrounds us. The magic lives in each of us. Belief is the fuel. Whether you believe in Santa or love or world peace, your spirit is infectious. Your spirit is your magic. I’ve chosen to keep my spirit joyful because I’ve experienced personally how uplifting a positive aura is.