Fright Christmas

“K
enny, look!” My little sister's face lit up with a big smile. She held up a ballerina doll for me to see. “Isn't she beautiful?” She sighed. “This is the one I want for Christmas.”

My mom took Kristi to see the ballet
Sleeping Beauty
last month. Now that's all she talks about, all day long. Ballerinas. Ballerinas. Ballerinas.

“Are you sure this is the one you want?” I asked her.

Kristi's head bobbed up and down. “Oh, yes!” she said.

“Let's see if she can twirl.” I took the doll from Kristi and spun her around on her head.

“Kenny! Stop. You're ruining her hair,” Kristi wailed.

The doll spun to a stop. She fell flat on her back and her eyelids jammed shut.

“Look, Kristi. She
is
the one you want,” I exclaimed. “She can be Sleeping Beauty.”

I tossed the doll on a shelf.

“Kenny! Give her back to me!” Kristi brushed her short blond curls from her face. “I have to show her to Santaâso he'll know what to bring me for Christmas.”

Christmas.

That's why I was stuck hereâin the middle of Dalby's Department Store. On Christmas Eve. In the toy department. With Santa and his dumb elves and my six-year-old sister, Kristi.

It's not that I have anything against Christmas. I mean I like the presentsâit's all the “peace on earth” stuff I hate.

Anyway, Mom said I had to watch Kristi while she finished up her Christmas shoppingâwhich ruined my whole night.

I think Christmas Eve is the best night of the year. It's when I sneak into our neighbors' yardsâand unscrew all the lightbulbs on their Christmas trees.

Kristi tugged on my sleeve. “Come on, Kenny.
We have to get in line to meet Santa. I have to sit on his lap and tell him what I want.”

“Santa had to go back to the North Pole,” I told her. “We can't see him. He's not here anymore.”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

Uh-oh. I hope it's not Mom. I hope she didn't hear me just lie to Kristi. I'll be in for it big-time.

It wasn't Mom. It was worse.

Timmy Smathers. A real nerd. And the shortest kid from my class at Shadyside Middle School.

“Hi, Kenny!” Timmy greeted me with his big goofy smile. “Isn't this toy department awesome?”

I stared at him blankly for a second. Then I glanced down at him and said, “Oh, Timmyâit's you. For a second I thought you were one of Santa's elves.

Timmy's smile faded from his face. He hates when anyone mentions his height. So I do it as much as I can.

“Hi, Kristi!” Timmy turned to my sister. “Did you tell Santa what you want for Christmas?” he asked in his squeaky little voice.

Kristi shook her head. She peered down at her sneakers.

“Santa isn't here anymore. He had to go back to the North Pole,” she whispered. “Kenny said so.”

Then she glanced up at me. Her lower lip trembled.
I spotted a big fat tear slide out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek.

“Hey! Don't cry, Kristi.” Timmy smiled his goofy smile again. “Kenny made a mistake. Santa is sitting in his village right now. He won't leave until all the kids get a turn to talk to him.”

Kristi's face turned beet red. She scrunched up her noseâher angry look.

“You lied to me, Kenny!” she yelled. “Take me to Santa's Village. Right now!”

“Bye, Kenny. Merry Christmas!” Timmy shouted cheerfully as he strolled away from us.

“Bye, Tiny. I mean Timmy,” I called back. “Merry Christmas!”

“If you don't take me right now, I'm telling Mom how you lied to me about Santa,” Kristi threatened.

“Okay! We're going. Come on,” I groaned.

I grabbed Kristi's hand and tugged her toward the end of the toy departmentâto Santa's Village.

Santa's Village. The stupidest place I ever saw. A big sign at the entrance said:
SANTA'S STREET! FILLED WITH TOYSâFOR ALL GOOD LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS!

At each side of the entrance stood two tall wooden soldiers. Big plastic structures, painted to look like gingerbread houses, lined the street inside
the entrance. They were dusted with fake snow. Icicles hung from their rooftops.

We walked through a little white gate and stood in line with the other kids.

I craned my neck to see up ahead.

At the very end of Santa Street, I spotted the jolly fat man himself. He sat in a big gold sleigh decorated with thick red satin ribbons and big golden bells.

A little boy sat on Santa's lap and whispered in the old guy's ear. “Ho-ho-ho!” Santa boomed. His voice sounded totally fake.

Boy, what a lame Santa. I can't believe these little kids don't catch on.

The line crept forward slowly.

Santa's elves ran up and down Santa Street, ringing their annoying bells and handing out candy canes. They tried to make everyone sing Christmas carols with them.

Kristi sang along in her squeaky little voice, happily sucking on a candy cane.

“How long until we get to the front, Kenny?” she asked between licks on her candy cane. “I can't wait to see Santa.”

“How old are you now, Kristi?”

“I'm six, Kenny, and you know it!” she exclaimed.

“Well, by the time you get to sit on Santa's lap, you'll be about eight,” I told her.

“Ken-nnny,” Kristi groaned. She turned and stared longingly at Santa. Her little blond curls bounced around her face.

Mom says my hair looked just like that when I was six. Yuck! I'm glad I've got normal hair nowâstraight, regular brown hair.

And I'm glad I'm really tallânot short like Tiny Timmy. Or these stupid elves, I thought as one tried to shove a candy cane into my hand.

“Hey, Kristi,” I leaned over and whispered. “I bet I know something about Santa that you don't know.”

“Leave me alone, Kenny,” she sniffed.

“But it's about Santa,” I said. “It's a secret. It's really important.”

She turned her head and peered up at me through narrowed eyes. I could tell I'd made her curious.

“What about him?” she asked.

“That guy up there is
not
the real Santa,” I whispered.

“He is too!” she shot back.

“Nope.” I shook my head seriously. “He isn't.”

“He is!” Kristi insisted. Her eyes grew round and her lower lip quivered.

“He is what?” Mom asked, coming up behind us.

“Kenny saysâ” Kristi started to say.

One of the elves rang a golden bell. “It's your turn, little girl.” He smiled brightly at Kristi.

Phew!
Saved by the bell, I laughed to myself.

The elf led Kristi up to Santa's sleigh. Two other elves hoisted her up onto Santa's lap.

Kristi's blue eyes sparkled as bright as Christmas-tree lights. I never saw a little kid so happy.

This was going to be great.

I strolled up to the sleigh and stood behind my mother. She watched Kristi, smiling and waving.

She'd never even notice if I disappeared.

“Ho-ho-ho!” Santa bellowed as Kristi settled on his lap. “What's your name, little girl?”

I slipped through the crowd to the far end of the sleigh.

I darted past a few elves and stood there, pretending to watch Kristi.

“Kristi Frobisher,” Kristi replied happily. “I live at 27 Fear Street. It's the fourth house on the left. It has blue shutters and two big chimneys andâ”

“That's okay, Kristi. Santa will find it,” he promised. “And what would you like me to bring you for Christmas, dear?”

I peered around.

Everyone had their eyes glued to Santa.

I dropped down to the floor and slipped under the sleigh.

I slithered along the floor on my belly.

Up above, I heard Kristi chattering away. Kristi and Santa sat directly overhead now.

I stopped and crawled outâbehind the sleigh. The fur-trimmed edge of Santa's red jacket hung inches from my face. The fur tickled my nose. I sucked in a sneeze.

“But what I really want is a ballerina doll,” Kristi droned on. “She's got blond hair and a pink tutu and satin toe shoes. And when you press a button on her back, sheÂ .Â .Â .”

Perfect timing!

I jumped up.

Santa turned to face me. His fluffy white eyebrows arched in surprise.

I reached out.

With both hands, I grabbed Santa's big white beard.

And I pulled with all my might!

“H
ey!”
Santa shouted.

He yanked his head back.

Great! He's helping me.

While Santa pulled his head one way, I tugged his beard the opposite way.

Before you could say “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa's hands flew up to hide his pale, bare face.

“He's a fake!” I yelled out. I waved the long white beard over my head for everyone to see. “A big fake! Now do you believe me, Kristi?”

Kristi stood up in the sleigh and stared at me. Her mouth hung open in shock. “You're so mean, Kenny!” she wailed.

“Kenny!” Mom cried. “How could you
do that!”

All along Santa Street the little kids sobbed and whimpered.

“What happened to Santa?” one little boy cried out.

“I want the
real
Santa!” another one shrieked.

The grown-ups tried to shush them up. The elves ran around frantically, ringing their bells and doling out handfuls of candy.

What a riot!

“You rotten kid!” Santa yelled at me. “Give me back that beard!”

He grabbed for the beard. But I snatched it out of his reach. He lost his balance and nearly toppled out of the sleigh. When he sat up, he glared at me.

I knew that look. He wanted to wring my neck.

I stared at the beardless Santa. He looked really familiar.

Joe! The custodian at Shadyside Middle School. Sure, it had to be!

“Hey, Joe!” I laughed at him. “How did you get to be Santa Claus?”

“You always were a rotten kid, Frobisher,” he groaned. “And you always will be.”

Scowling, he grabbed his beard back from me. He pressed it to his cheeks, but it didn't stick.

“Come on, Joe,” I chuckled. “It was just a joke.”