Free Me, My Elf & I by Heather Swain

doing talking to Zack Wheeler? He’s a total skoner.” Ari says.
    “A what?” I ask.
    “Skater and a stoner,” Mercedes explains.
    “Do you really hunt?” one of the guys with Zack yells.
    “My grandfather taught all of us,” I call back.
    “Seriously?” Ari guffaws. “I thought you were a veggie.”
    “A what?” I ask for the second time in ten seconds.
    He points to my plate of salad, fruit, and cheese. “A vegetarian. That you don’t eat meat.”
    “Oh no,” I clarify. “We eat meat, but usually on special occasions and then only meat that we kill and dress ourselves.”
    “Holy crap!” Mercedes yells. “We best be locking up the cats and dogs when Zephyr comes to visit.” She pretends to load and cock a shotgun. “Happy Easter, everybody!” Then she fires and makes a strangled dog howl.
    Neither Ari nor I laugh. “Actually,” I tell her coolly, “we use bows and arrows that we make ourselves. It’s a tradition that goes back a long, long time.”
    “Dang,” Mercedes mutters, shaking her head. “I knew you were from the sticks, but I didn’t realize you were some kind of NRA redneck.”
    “Jesus, Mercy,” Ari says with disgust. “You need to learn when to shut it.”
    “What?” Mercedes demands.
    “Obviously Zephyr’s not some NRA redneck, as you so delicately put it,” he says. “They don’t even use guns. And her family’s hunted for generations. Big deal. It’s a cultural thing. Why are you being so judgmental?”
    “Maybe you should step off, Ari,” Mercedes says angrily. “And go sit with Zephyr and all her new best buddies before you go getting up in my face for making a joke.”
    Ari puts his hands on his hips and stares Mercedes down. “Is that what this is about, Mercy?”
    “What?” she asks.
    “Are we jealous that Zephyr made some new friends today?” he asks in a baby voice.
    “No, I’m not jealous,” Mercedes mocks him.
    “You guys,” I plead. My stomach clenches into a small hard knot. “Stop. Okay? I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day. I don’t want to sit with anyone else. I want to sit with you.”
    As quickly as Mercedes went dark and cloudy, her face brightens into a big silly grin. “Dang, this girl is so ‘We Are the World’ ! ” She grabs my hand and Ari’s and lifts them above our heads, swaying back and forth, singing, “We are the world. We are the children.”
    “All right, all right, Jacko,” Ari says with a forgiving laugh. “Put the eighties back in their coffin.”
    Mercedes drops our hands. “Oh hey, I almost forgot.” She pulls a flyer out of her backpack. “Check it out.” She lays the paper in the center of our small circle. “After school everyone who’s interested in the ELPH audition has to go to this info meeting with Mr. O’Donnell, the casting agent. Can you do that, Zeph?”
    I pick up the paper with the details and nod. “Sure,” I say. “Are you going to be there?” A bell rings, and as usual, I jump like a startled bunny. I cannot get used to my day being controlled by some invisible buzzer.
    Mercedes gathers her things and stands up. “Yeah, I’ll be there, but a little late. I have a costume fitting.”
    “What is it this time?” Ari asks.
    “Witch number three in Macbeth ,” Mercedes says with a quick roll of her eyes. Then she hunches her back, rubs her hands together, and croaks, “Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air.” She points to the table where Bella and her posse still sit as if they have no place important to go. Mercedes continues her witchy recitation. “‘Double, double toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf; Witches’ mummy; maw and gulf, of the ravin’d salt-sea shark; Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark; Liver of blaspheming Jew . . . ’ Hey, that’s you, Ari!” she says, becoming Mercedes again. “Come here and give me your liver, boy!” Ari scrambles to his feet as Mercedes