Maple & Coal: Episode 3 - Unsettled
The morning the DOOR bell rang for the third time, the workshop was busy in the best way.
Hammers tapped.
Toy trains clacked along tiny tracks.
An elf in the corner was testing a whoopee cushion and getting very stern looks from Pinewick.
Maple and Coal walked in from the side hallway, both holding cocoa.
Maple’s cocoa had one small marshmallow floating quietly on top.
Coal’s cocoa looked like a marshmallow volcano. Marshmallows were escaping. One slid off the edge, plopped onto the floor, and started rolling.
Coal pointed at it. “Stay.”
The marshmallow did not stay.
Maple caught it with her foot, scooped it up, and dropped it back into his cup.
“Thank you, that one was trying to join a new family.”
Maple smiled a little and climbed onto her usual stool as Coal scrambled onto the next stool and nearly slid off the other side before catching himself on the table.
“Perfect landing,” he said.
Then he took another big sip of cocoa.
And froze.
His eyes widened.
“Uh oh.”
He coughed once.
Then twice.
Then a marshmallow shot out, bounced off a paint can, and stuck to Blizzard’s vest as the mouse walked by.
Blizzard squeaked, “Uncalled for!”
Coal tried to speak again.
“Sorry— I’m—”
But what came out wasn’t his normal voice at all.
“I’m fine,” he said…
Except he wasn’t.
He was confused, and so was his voice.
Maple blinked. “Coal? Your voice.”
Coal swallowed, cleared his throat, “There we go...”
No change.
“Well…” he said in his new voice, “this is me now.”
Pinewick stood nearby with his ledger open. His pinecone hat was straight. He looked toward Maple and Coal for just a heartbeat, then turned back to his ledger.
Before anyone could say more, a clear, silver sound rang through the workshop.
Ding… ding…
The sound seemed to land on every workbench at once. An elf halfway through taste-testing a gumdrop stopped chewing with their cheeks puffed out.
The DOOR ornament on the big tree gave a little shiver and began to glow.
Maple’s hand tightened around her pencil.
Coal sat up so fast his stool squeaked.
From between two tall stacks of boxes came Blizzard and Snowflake.
Blizzard marched like he was leading a parade. Snowflake followed with his usual slow, careful steps.
Blizzard hopped up onto a crate. Then onto a barrel. Then onto Snowflake’s paw, and from there scrambled up to his shoulder.
He puffed out his chest, almost knocking himself over with the scroll.
“Case File number zero-zero-zero-three!” he squeaked. “Codename: The Great Slide Tangle!”
Coal whispered, “Yes,” like someone had just granted him three wishes.
Blizzard unrolled the scroll so fast it spun once and smacked Snowflake in the nose.
“Sorry,” Blizzard muttered, then cleared his throat.
“Subject: Rocky.
Incident One: Subject constructed an indoor slide using sofa cushions and one baking sheet.”
Snowflake nodded. “Very resourceful.”
“Incident Two: Sibling knocked into wrapped presents. Tears followed.”
Snowflake winced.
“Incident Three: Household dog followed subject down the slide. Collided with the side table. Lamp toppled but landed on a pillow. Zero damage.”
Snowflake bowed his head. “Very nearly lights out.”
Blizzard had to push the scroll up his nose again to keep reading.
“Incident Four: Parent distressed.
Incident Five: Subject attempted repairs. Rushed re-wrapping. Handwritten apology card of… unusual spelling.”
Coal leaned toward Maple. “I already like this kid.”
Blizzard straightened the scroll and read the last part in a very important voice:
“Preliminary assessment: Naughty-leaning. Observation and Review recommended for confirmation.”
He rolled the scroll shut and tapped it with one tiny paw.
Coal swung his feet. “Naughty-leaning,” he repeated.
“Leaning isn’t the same as falling,” Maple said.
Pinewick stepped a little closer, though not too close.
“When the lists are unclear,” he said quietly, “everything else slows down. We will need a clear decision.”
Maple heard the words even if Pinewick wasn’t looking right at her.
I watched her face. She didn’t flinch. But her fingers rubbed the edge of her pencil until the wood squeaked a little.
The little door on the ornament creaked open. The striped slide unfurled out of thin air, twisting down in a smooth, peppermint spiral.
Coal hopped off his stool. “This is the best part.”
Maple took a breath, pushed herself down from her seat, and joined him.
WHOOSH.
The slide carried them through spinning stripes of red and white and green. Cool air rushed past their ears. Coal yelled “Whee!” even when the slide went straight for a moment.
Then, with two soft thumps, they landed... right in a basket of plastic building blocks.
“OW,” Coal squealed.
Maple rolled once, came to a stop, and pushed herself up, brushing off her coat.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
Coal sat up, a yellow block stuck to his hat.
“Why is it always yellow? Yellow is the stickiest color,” he groaned.
Maple flicked the yellow block off his hat with a chuckle.
They climbed out of the basket and looked around.
They stood in the middle of a living room.
Cushions were stacked in shaky towers. Blankets made wobbly bridges from couch to chair. A baking sheet sat at the top of a homemade ramp.
“Well,” Coal said, “I think we found the right house.”
Maple spotted a piece of paper on the floor and picked it up.
Scrawled across it in big, crooked letters were the words:
“Sory I skared you.”
Under the words was a small drawing. A stick figure. A rectangle that might have been a slide.
Maple felt her chest pinch a little.
“He tried,” she whispered.
Footsteps clunked down the stairs.
Maple quickly set the note back where she found it.
Rocky burst into the room.
His hair stuck up in three different directions. His socks didn’t match. His rocket shirt was faded.
“Welcome to Rocky’s Magical Amusement Park!” he shouted.
Coal’s eyes widened. “He’s doing it again!”
Rocky hurried to the ramp and began rebuilding it, shoving a cushion into place with his knee and smoothing the blanket with both hands.
From the hallway, Ruby peeked in, clutching her stuffed animal with both arms.
“I don’t want to crash again,” she said.
“You won’t,” Rocky said quickly. “I fixed it. Promise.”
Coal leaned toward Maple. “That promise needs a helmet.”
Maple gave him a look. “Let’s just watch.”
Rocky climbed onto the back of the couch and held out his hand.
“Come on,” he urged. Ruby climbed up beside him, pressed against her stuffed animal.
Rocky grinned.
“One… two… three!”
They slid.
For a moment, it worked. Rocky and Ruby shot down the ramp, hair flying, laughter bursting out of both of them—
Then the bottom cushion slipped.
Ruby toppled sideways into a pile of pillows with a squeak.
The baking sheet skidded, smacked the side table, and the lamp hit the floor in several unhappy pieces.
“Rocky!” Ruby cried.
“You’re fine,” he said too fast. “It was pillows. Don’t be a baby.”
Maple sucked in a breath.
Coal winced. “Yep. Loud glimmer.”
Across the room, the dog squeezed himself into a corner, tail tucked tight.
Ruby’s face crumpled.
“I’m telling Mom,” she whispered, and ran from the room.
Rocky stood at the bottom of the ramp, breathing hard. His excitement fizzed out into something heavy and confusing.
He looked at the mess.
“It was supposed to be fun,” he said softly.
Maple leaned forward.
“There,” she whispered. “That was real.”
Rocky turned toward the dog.
His face softened for one small moment.
Coal blinked. “Whoa. Didn’t expect that.”
Then Rocky’s shoulders tensed.
“Dumb dog,” he snapped.
The dog pressed even closer to the wall.
Coal groaned. “And there it goes again.”
Rocky spotted the broken lamp and nudged it under the couch with his foot.
Coal crossed his arms. “That’s not fixing. That’s hiding.”
Maple sighed. “Sometimes hiding feels easier than admitting you messed up.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Ruby and Rocky’s parent walked in with a laundry basket.
“Rocky,” they said.
Rocky didn’t move.
“We talked about the slide.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” he said quickly. “Ruby fell weird.”
Maple’s shoulders dropped.
Coal rubbed his forehead.
The parent didn’t yell. They set down the basket and handed him a cushion.
Rocky shoved it onto the couch, crooked enough that it slipped right off.
“Help me,” they said. “We’re cleaning this up.”
Rocky muttered something but helped.
He pushed cushions back into place.
Maple whispered, “He’s still helping. Even if it’s messy.”
Coal nodded with a frown.
When the room was mostly normal—except for the hidden lamp—the parent turned to him.
“Did you apologize to Ruby Sue?”
Rocky crossed his arms.
“She made a big deal out of nothing.”
“Rocky,” the parent said softly.
He looked away.
“I’ll talk to her later.”
Maple frowned. “Later again.”
Coal sighed. “Later keeps running away.”
Rocky walked out of the room.
Maple watched him go.
“There’s good in there,” she whispered.
Coal nodded.
“And a whole lot of trouble wrapped around it.”
Maple rang her small silver bell.
A moment later, Sprig’s sled slid into view outside the window.
Sprig peered in. “Any elves in need of a pick-up? Emotional baggage welcome. Actual baggage must be under twenty pounds.”
Coal smirked. “We qualify.”
They climbed into the sled, and Sprig carried them up through the clouds, and back toward the North Pole. Neither Maple nor Coal spoke.
The silence sat in the sled like a third passenger.
Sprig glanced back, swallowed, and tried, “Sooo… anyone want some music?”
He tapped a crystal on the dashboard.
A familiar tune burst out immediately:
🎵 “He’s makin’ a list…” 🎵
Maple closed her eyes. “Sprig.”
🎵 “…checkin’ it twice…” 🎵
Coal rubbed his face. “Sprig.”
🎵 “Gonna find out who’s naughty or—” 🎵
Sprig slapped the crystal off so fast the sled jerked sideways.
“NOPE. No one heard that. Absolutely nobody heard that.”
Silence crashed back in.
Big silence.
Huge silence.
The kind of silence you could build furniture in.
Sprig waited… waited… then whispered to himself, “Okay. Music was a choice.”
He cleared his throat.
“Uhh… so… anybody want to hear a joke?”
“No,” Maple said.
“Yes,” Coal said.
Sprig clapped his hooves. “Great! I’ll tell HALF the joke!”
They both groaned.
Sprig cleared his throat.
“Why did the pengui—”
He paused dramatically.
“That’s it. That’s the half.”
Coal put his face in his hands.
Maple stared back down at the snowy fields, replaying Rocky’s day and all its messy glimmers.
Sprig looked at both of them. “Tough crowd.”
When they slid back onto the polished workshop floor, Pinewick was already there, standing near my desk with his ledger shut.
“Santa,” he said, “given the preliminary Naughty-leaning assessment, I would like to be present for this report. To ensure nothing is… overlooked.”
He said it politely. Pinewick was always polite. But Maple heard the worry underneath.
Coal whispered, “We didn’t even break the lamp, and we’re the ones with supervision.”
I nodded. “Very well, Pinewick. You may stay.”
Maple and Coal walked forward together.
“How did it go?” I asked.
Coal opened his mouth, then closed it again and took a step back.
Maple stepped up.
“Rocky built the slide again,” she said quietly. “He scared Ruby again. He hid the broken lamp. He called Ruby a baby. He… made a lot of trouble glimmers.”
Pinewick nodded once, his expression thoughtful.
“But,” Maple went on, “he also wrote an apology card. He almost gave it. He helped his parent clean up. He felt guilty, and he wanted things to be fun, not scary. His good glimmers were small… but they were there.”
Pinewick’s gaze flicked from Maple to me.
“Did he act on those good glimmers?” he asked.
Maple’s shoulders sank.
“Not really,” she said. “He stopped halfway. Every time.”
Coal stepped forward then, rubbing the back of his neck.
“He tried,” Coal said. “But today, the trouble glimmers were louder and stayed longer. The good ones kept hiding.”
I let a long silence sit in the air. Maple and Coal stood side by side. Pinewick stood just behind them, hands clasped, eyes on me. The workshop seemed to hold its breath.
“Rocky’s heart holds many glimmers,” I said at last. “Some bright, some quiet, some still learning how to show themselves.”
Maple stared at the floor.
“But the lists,” I said, “must record what is clearest.”
I took a deep breath.
“I’m afraid Rocky must go on the Naughty List.”
Coal’s shoulders dropped. He didn’t look surprised. He just looked sad.
Maple swayed the smallest bit, as if the floor had shifted.
Pinewick stepped forward.
“This is why the lists matter, Maple,” he said gently. “They show a child’s truest glimmer when everything else is confusing.”
Maple’s hands curled into small fists at her sides.
She didn’t argue. She didn’t speak.
I dismissed them, and they walked away from the desk together, Maple very quiet, Coal walking just a tiny step closer than usual.
That night, when most of the elves had gone to their bunks and the workshop lanterns glowed low, Maple sat on a bench beneath the big tree.
Coal joined her with a crinkly paper bag in his hands.
“I brought gumdrops,” he said. “In case… you know. Feelings.”
Maple took a gumdrop, but she didn’t eat it. She held it in her palm and looked at it like it was a thought she was trying to understand.
“I saw good in him,” she said finally. “In Rocky. It was small, but it was there.”
Coal nodded. “I saw it too.”
“He wanted to make it fun,” Maple whispered. “He wanted to fix things. But today that wasn’t enough. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
Coal swung his legs slowly.
“So what list should he be on?” he asked.
Maple stared down at the gumdrop in her hand. Her voice came out very soft, but very sure.
“Maybe none,” she said.
Coal blinked. “None?”
“Maybe the lists aren’t big enough,” Maple said. “Kids aren’t just one thing. They don’t fit in little boxes.”
Coal turned those words over carefully in his head.
“That sounds… dangerous,” he said.
Maple gave a tiny laugh. “It sounds honest.”
Coal didn’t argue. It was what he’d been feeling too, but hadn’t known how to say.
Behind them, near a shadowed shelf, Pinewick had come to check a ledger before bed. He stopped when he heard Maple’s words.
He watched her for a long moment.
He closed his ledger very carefully, then walked away without a sound.
The workshop grew quiet again.
Nothing was settled.
Not really.
There was still a lot to figure out.
A lot we didn’t know yet.
But I knew this much:
What happened tonight wasn’t going to fade for Maple.
It was going to stick.
And sooner or later, she was going to push for something bigger than a simple Naughty or Nice.
We just didn’t know how big yet.