Arthur Christmas (13 page)

Arthur pulled down the training wheels and leaped on the little bicycle. “I can cycle!” And before the elf could say another word, Arthur took off down the hill.

Bryony ran after him, crying, “Come back! What about the wrapping?”

As the little bike rolled swiftly toward Trelew, Arthur consulted Gwen's postcard. “The church! She lives by the church.”

Though his leg hurt, and his knees kept knocking into the handlebars, Arthur's heart felt light with renewed hope. As he sped past a pasture full of cows, the youngest Claus called out, “Happy Christmas, cows!”

MEANWHILE AT THE
North Pole, Mission Control suffered a literal meltdown. Disintegrating ice walls dripped down over hysterical elves abandoning their Claus-less headquarters.

Peter encouraged the crazed elves to destroy Santa's ice statue.

Then as suddenly as dawn defeats even the blackest night, a dot appeared on the screen showing Gwen's house. Ernie Clicker, Grandsanta's former Communications Chief spotted the dot and cried, “Hold on a minute. Look! It's Arthur. He's delivering the present!”

Carlos Connor seized on this good news. “No child left behind!”

Other elves stared at the screen, then cheered! More elves rushed in to watch the amazing spectacle of the gawky young man pedaling through Trelew on a small, pink bicycle with an elf chasing after him.

“You're getting it dirty!” Bryony scolded as the bike rolled past an alley.

Down the alley, Dasher sniffed at a trash bin, or as they say in England, a wheely bin. The deer peered inside and saw his beloved master slumped on the garbage like one more piece of trash. Confused, concussed, and covered in filth, Grandsanta was nevertheless alive!

“Hello, young reindeer!” he said with groggy good cheer. “Which Christmas is this then?”

Meanwhile, aboard the S-1, good cheer was in short supply. Steve stumbled up the mangled remains of the slick ship's red carpet and admitted, “OK, so I'm not great with children! Does that make me a bad Santa?”

When his father raised one white eyebrow at this dumb question, Steve turned on him. “You're hardly perfect. Let me guess, you put in the address, saw a list of Mimosa Avenues and just clicked on the first one? You're just like Arthur!”

“Am I?” Santa wondered. He was beginning to hope so.

Then the S-1 received a message from North Pole Mission Control. On the screen, Seamus Malone exclaimed, “Sir! The soldiers shot the sleigh!”

Mrs. Claus, Santa, and Steve gasped. What about Arthur and Grandsanta? Had they been shot down with the sleigh? Before the Claus's thoughts could grow too grim, Deborah added, “But sir, it's Arthur … He's still going!”

She and Seamus stepped back to reveal the cheering elves surrounding them shouting, “Arthur! Arthur!”

Steve blinked hard. What was his crazy brother doing now? Santa and Mrs. Claus felt relieved and amazed!

WHIZZ!
The pink Twinkle Bike came around a corner with its gangly rider pedaling madly, his bony knees poking up with each stroke. Breathless Bryony ran after him, shouting, “No one gets an unwrapped present on my watch!”

Even as she ran, the determined little elf started wrapping the rolling bike. “Stand up!” she told Arthur. When he obeyed, she wrapped the seat.

“Finger!” she commanded, and Arthur put his finger on the wrapping paper while Bryony expertly secured it with tape.

Arthur exclaimed, “The church!”

Bryony slid to the side of the bike and called, “Right foot!”

When Arthur lifted up his foot, she wrapped the pedal.

“Left foot!” the elf continued as the bike neared its destination.

“Hands up!” Bryony barked like a cop stopping a criminal.

Arthur obediently lifted both hands so the elf could climb up and wrap the handlebars. Then he suddenly realized they were heading straight for a wall! “Ahhhh!”

Arthur grabbed a signpost and swung the bike around. The bike smashed into a snowman! When Bryony looked up, they were still zooming down the street, but now Arthur wore the snowman's hat and pipe.

The Mission Control elves cheered! “In Santa We Believe!” they shouted. “Arthur! Arthur!”

“Nearly there!” Arthur cried as he popped up the front wheel. But the sunlight was nearly there, too! Bryony scrambled to wrap the front wheel as she could barely wrap and hang on.

The bike rounded the corner, and they started down Mimosa Avenue. Arthur spotted number 23. “That's it there!”

“Back wheel—ready?” Bryony asked as she tucked up the training wheels.

Arthur wobbled, but he did not fall. “Whooaaaa …”

“Here we go!” Bryony thrust a wrapping paper tube between the spokes, and the bike flipped up and over the mailbox from which Gwen mailed her letter to Santa.

The bike soared into the air, flying over a squirrel in a tree.

Arthur let go of the bike in mid-air and landed in a snowdrift. The perfectly wrapped bike dropped into his lap! He looked for Bryony, but the elf was caught in the tree lights. “Elf down!” she exclaimed, prepared to let Arthur continue without her. “Go on. Quick!” she urged.

But Arthur hesitated. Instead, he leaned over and grabbed her ribbon, explaining, “There's always time for a bow.”

BUT WAS THERE
time for a bow? Arthur looked up just as the red light of dawn crept across Gwen's house and glinted off her bedroom window!

The first ray of Christmas day fell on Gwen's face. She opened her eyes.

Arthur stared up in agony. “No! We can't be too late!”

Then something amazing happened: A huge shadow fell over Gwen's house, as if night itself were falling back down! Gwen shut her eyes and drifted dreamily back to sleep, completely unaware of the huge spaceship that had caused this curious eclipse.

As sunlight formed a halo around the S-1, Arthur climbed awkwardly through a window with Gwen's bike. Steve rappelled gracefully from the S-1, while his bulky father tumbled down clumsily.

And yet one more Santa approached Gwen's home. “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” Grandsanta exclaimed as he rode down Mimosa Avenue.

The old man imagined himself riding in his beloved Evie, behind a team of gorgeous reindeer, wearing his beautiful red suit, and tossing candy and toys from his velvet sack. In truth, his “sleigh” was really a trash bin. His “team,” a single, exhausted, oneantlered, ancient reindeer harnessed by “reins” made from Grandsanta's old clothes. His “suit” consisted only of his underwear. The “treats” he tossed were trash from a garbage bag. Yet in his delightful delusion, Grandsanta beamed a benevolent smile that was pure Santa Claus.

This spirit was not lost on the Mission Control elves. Their tiny eyes misted with tears as they watched the three Clauses converging on Gwen's house. Some sobbed, while others sang “White Christmas” and waved candles overhead.

Chris Tankenson remarked, “All the Santas are taking the missing present!”

Carlos Connor echoed, “It's beautiful!”

Norah agreed, “The whole family, spreading peace and goodwill!”

Ernie's voice choked with sweet emotion. “Gaw bless the Clauses!”

Steve used one of his high-tech devices to open the door. Santa squeezed through the bathroom window, while Grandsanta crashed down the chimney. Soot covered his wrinkled face and turned his underwear black, but his jolly mood remained unchanged.

Arthur crept toward Gwen's bed, moved by the aura of trust and innocence surrounding the sleeping child. He slipped a tag into her stocking that said, “Under the tree.”

When he reached the hall, Arthur heard a noise. He looked downstairs and saw his father! The young man's face twitched with intense emotion.

Arthur raced to embrace Santa Claus. He gushed, “Dad?! You came! I knew you would! You wouldn't just go back to bed and forget Gwen! You're Santa!”

Knowing the sad truth, Santa felt ashamed. Especially when he saw in his son all that Santa should be.

But before he could say anything …
SMACK!
Steve bumped into them from one side and
THUMP!
Grandsanta from the other!

Steve grabbed the bike from Arthur. Grandsanta snatched it from Steve! To Arthur's dismay, a whispered tussle ensued; the pointless struggle reminded him of the ugly incident that had ruined Christmas earlier: the board game fiasco.

“I'm Santa! I'm delivering it!” Steve insisted.

“Don't be silly, I'm Santa, can't you see from my suit?” Grandsanta gestured toward his sooty underwear.

Santa jumped in, “I am actually Santa, and I think it would be best if I …”

Steve interrupted, “I'm Santa! You handed it over!”

“I didn't … in fact … technically …” Santa went on.

“You said I could drive,” Steve pointed out.

“I'm Santa, you naughty boys!” Grandsanta scolded. Then he reached in his garbage bag. “Here, have a bonbon.”

But Steve would not exchange the bike for a brown apple core, and neither would Santa. Finally Arthur hissed, “Shhhh!”

He pointed upstairs where a door creaked open. The three Clauses heard Gwen's high-pitched sixyear-old voice exclaim, “It's Christmas!”

Arthur begged, “Please. Gwen just has to have a present from Santa!”

Santa looked at him gently, then said, “You do it, Arthur.”

As she ran to her parents' room, Gwen's little feet padded overhead. “Mummy, Daddy, wake up!” she squeaked.

Arthur raced into the living room and carefully placed the present under the tree. At last, after so much effort, everything was set!

Then Grandsanta toddled in and merrily emptied his garbage bag under the tree, too! “Ho, ho, ho!” he chuckled, just as Gwen started down the stairs.

Santa and Steve dragged the old man toward a closet, as Arthur frantically scooped up all the trash.

“Father, please keep it down,” Santa whispered urgently.

But the old man's joy would not be muted. “Merry Christmas, everyone!” he shouted behind the closed door.