Page 33 of Healed By the Grumpy Elf

"Nurse Maeve," he moans, "I think I got the Pixie-Pox."

I immediately switch into nurse mode, kneeling to his level to examine him. It takes about three seconds to spot the deception. The "glowing freckles" on his face are clearly drawn with a marker. And his giggles sound forced, nothing like the uncontrollable laughter that afflicts true sufferers.

"That's interesting, Tommy," I say gently. "I've never seen Pixie-Pox quite like this before. Your spots don't glow the way they should."

Tommy's fake giggles stop abruptly. "Maybe it's a new kind of Pixie-Pox?"

"Maybe," I agree, reaching for a wet wipe. "Or maybe it's a case of washable marker. Let's see."

The marker comes off easily, leaving Tommy's cheeks clean but red with embarrassment.

"Do you want to tell me why you pretended to have Pixie-Pox?" I ask, keeping my tone gentle.

“Zinnia and Leo get to float around their bedrooms and eat ice pops all day.” Tommy scuffs his shoe against the floor. “And everybody says it’s cool.”

I nod understandingly. "You know, there's an old story about a boy who cried wolf. Do you know it?"

Tommy shakes his head.

"He kept pretending there was danger when there wasn't, and eventually, when there really was a wolf, nobody believed him." I put the wet wipe aside. "If you pretend to be sick now, what happens when you're really sick and need help?"

His eyes widen with understanding. "Nobody would believe me."

"Exactly. Plus, Pixie-Pox isn't fun for the kids who really have it. They can't eat properly, they're exhausted from all the laughing, and they're missing school."

Tommy considers this. "I didn't think about that part."

"I know." I stand up and scribble a quick note for his teacher. "Here you go. This explains where you've been. Now go have fun with your non-glowing friends, okay?"

After Tommy leaves, Harriet gives me an appreciative nod. "I had two do this to me just yesterday."

"It’s not surprising," I reply. “All they see is giggling and floating. They’re just children, after all.”

"So, back to Dr. Tall, Blond, and Complicated," Harriet says, not missing a beat. "Maybe he's just nervous around you. He doesn’t strike me as the warm and fuzzy type."

I sigh heavily. "I don't know what his problem is. All I know is that I can't keep doing this dance where he kisses me like his life depends on it, then bolts for the door."

"Then don't let him," Harriet says simply. "Next time, block the exit. Make him talk to you. Tackle him to the ground if you have to."

I chuckle at that. Just the image of me, all five foot three, tackling the tall and broad-shouldered elven doctor to the ground to force him to talk to me. It feels good to laugh about it.

"I'm not sure there will be a next time, but if there is, I’ll be sure to take your advice into consideration."

"Oh, there will be," Harriet says confidently. "That man is completely crazy about—"

She cuts off abruptly, her eyes widening as she looks toward the door. I turn to find Principal Braggstone's massive frame filling the doorway. His gray-green face is closed off, and he watches me with a frown.

The silence that follows is thick with tension. How long has he been standing there? How much did he hear?

"Principal Braggstone," I say, trying to sound normal. "Good morning."

"Maeve. Harriet." His deep voice rumbles through the small office as he steps inside. His movements are deliberate as he approaches my desk, the floorboards creaking under his weight.

Harriet slides off my desk, gathering her coffee cup. "I should get back to my classroom. The little monsters will be arriving soon."

She shoots me a meaningful look as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

Principal Braggstone pulls up the chair opposite my desk, which groans in protest as he settles his bulk into it. He smells of cologne that's a touch too strong, something woodsy and overpowering. He also looks at me like a naughty student.