Ivy gasped. “You got the necklace!” she cried. She pulled a similar sparkly strand from beneath the collar of her shirt. “Just like mine!”
Peppermint Bark had seen the elves make sparkly necklaces lots of times. He wasn’t sure why they meant so much to humans. But he could tell that Holly was happy—just like everyone should be on Christmas.
“Merry Christmas!” he barked gleefully, wagging his tail and rushing closer.
Ivy spun to face him, her eyes wide. Peppermint Bark tilted his head to one side, noticing the surprised look on her face.
“Can you understand what I’m saying?” he barked at her curiously.
Instead of answering, Ivy shrank back into her chair and glanced over at Holly. “Um, that dog is stepping on the gifts.”
Holly glanced up from studying her necklace. “Hey, shoo, fuzz face.” She pushed Peppermint Bark off a large present.
Peppermint Bark moved over to a bare spot on the rug. Suddenly he smelled something familiar. Pinecones and gingerbread—just like home!
“A portal!” he barked, homesickness and excitement washing over him in equal measure. “I smell a portal! Where is it?”
“What’s wrong with him?” Ivy asked, staring at the dog with that same expression of surprise.
But this time Peppermint Bark didn’t notice. He started pawing at the stack of gifts nearby, searching for the one hiding the portal back home.
“There it is!” he barked as he found the box with the North Pole smell. The portal had to be inside! “I’m coming, Santa!” he cried, shredding paper and ribbon as fast as he could.
6
No Time Like the Present
“Hey!” Dad shouted. “The dog is attacking the gifts!”
Chris jumped forward, confused. Peppermint Bark was barking nonstop, so frantic that his words were a jumble. The only ones Chris could understand were “smell,” “Santa,” and “portal”—whatever that last one meant.
“He’s probably just, um, excited,” Chris told his family. He grabbed Peppermint Bark around the middle and lifted him off the package, which was a shredded mess by now. The little dog’s legs windmilled wildly in midair as he tried to wiggle free.
“Put me down, Chris!” Peppermint Bark cried. “Please! I need to uncover the portal before it closes!”
Holly darted forward to grab the shredded gift. “Who was this for?” she asked, pulling something out of the scraps of wrapping paper and ribbon. “It’s a scented candle.”
“That’s for your mother, from me,” Dad said. He chuckled. “I hope she likes the smell better than the dog seems to . . .”
Chris was hugging Peppermint Bark tighter. “Listen,” he whispered into the puppy’s white ear. “You have to settle down, or they’ll lock you in another room!”
Peppermint Bark abruptly stopped struggling. He stared at the candle as Holly handed it to Mom. “A scented candle?” he whimpered. “That’s what I smelled?”
Mom was examining the candle, which was encased in a glass jar and seemed unharmed. “What was that all about?” She glanced at Dad. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s a good idea to let a strange dog stay here when we’re both gone, Kenny. What if he tries to eat the house? Or the kids?”
“He won’t,” Chris promised quickly. “I’ll keep him under control. I swear.”
He set Peppermint Bark on the floor at his feet. The little dog trotted over to Mom and licked her hand. “I’m sorry,” he barked softly.
“Don’t worry—I’m in charge while you’re both gone, right?” Holly shot Chris a sour look. “If the dog causes any trouble, I’ll lock him in the garage or something.”
Chris frowned at her. “Why is she in charge?”
“Because I’m older, that’s why,” Holly said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s not like I want to babysit you, okay? Especially on Christmas.”
Dad looked worried. “Maybe I should stay home after all, keep an eye on things . . .”
“You can’t,” Mom told him. “If you don’t show up for your shift at the square, we’ll never hear the end of it from Mr. Brooks.”
She and Dad both rolled their eyes. Chris did too. Mr. Brooks wasn’t actually the mayor of Poinsettia, but just about everyone thought he acted like it. He’d lived there in his big old Victorian house at the edge of Poinsettia Square for his entire seventy-three years of life, and he seemed to think that gave him a right to boss everyone else around. He’d been the president of the Poinsettia Holiday Festival Committee for longer than Chris had been alive.
“I suppose you’re right.” Dad still looked concerned, but he shrugged. “Anyway, the kids will only be on their own for a few hours before the festival starts. And Ivy’s parents are just a block away if there’s any trouble. Right, Ivy?”
“That’s right, Mr. Kerstman,” Ivy said politely. “My mom said we should call if we need them.”
“Good, good.” Mom glanced at her watch. “Let’s keep going, then. Lots of gifts still to open, hmm?”
Peppermint Bark had backed away and was sitting quietly at Chris’s feet. Chris let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. That was the good part about Mom being so scatterbrained about everything but work: sometimes she forgot she was mad about something.
“Here, Dad,” Chris said, grabbing a bright red-and-gold package from the pile still under the tree. “This one’s from me. I hope you like it.”
Dad ripped the paper off to reveal a long, narrow box. “Hmm, what could it be? Maybe a big-screen TV?” he joked, shaking the box. “Or a pair of snowshoes? I know—a new battery for my car!”
Ivy giggled. “Very funny, Mr. K!”
Peppermint Bark wagged his tail. “Yeah, your dad’s funny,” he told Chris. “I know an elf like that—his name’s Happy because he’s always cracking silly jokes and making everyone laugh.”
Chris noticed that Ivy had spun in her seat to stare at the little dog again. Had she understood his words?
No way, Chris thought. Becoming best friends with Ivy is the whole reason Holly got so weird and lost her Christmas spirit—Ivy definitely can’t hear Peppermint Bark if my own sister and parents can’t!
Dad finally opened the box. Inside, nestled among layers of tissue paper, was a tie with candy canes printed all over it. He held it up with a grin.
“I love it!” he exclaimed. “It’ll go perfectly with my Santa-print belt. Thanks, son.”
“You’re welcome,” Chris said. “Okay, Mom, here’s one for you . . .”
* * *
Peppermint Bark wasn’t sure how much longer the family spent opening their gifts. He loved watching every second of it. Each member of the family had given the others thoughtful, special presents. Chris received some action figures, a board game, books, and new sneakers. In addition to her sparkly necklace, Holly got a nice tennis racket, a new case for her cell phone, several books, and lots of clothes. Dad got a new banjo, which he tested out by playing some Christmas carols. Mom got jewelry from Dad and a birdbath for the backyard from the kids. Faraway relatives had sent gifts for everyone, and a few neighbors had dropped off packages containing home-baked cookies or other items. Santa had contributed a pretty purple bike helmet for Holly and a cute stuffed owl for Chris.
There were gifts for Ivy, too—a hand-beaded bracelet from Holly, a book about local folklore from Dad, and a wool scarf embroidered with ivy vines from Mom. Even Chris had given her a fancy bookmark.
“Mom and Dad told me I had to get her something, since she was coming over for Christmas,” he whispered to Peppermint Bark. “They paid for it, though.”
Peppermint Bark tilted his head to look up at the boy. Sometimes the little dog didn’t quite understand what Chris was talking about.
“What do you mean?” he barked.
Holly looked up from admiring her birthstone necklace. “Does he have to bark so much?” she complained. “I’m trying to enjoy Christmas.”
Mom stood up. “I ha
te to put an end to the fun,” she said, “but I need to get to work. Come on, Kenny—I’ll drop you off at the square on my way to the hospital.”
Beside him, Peppermint Bark could sense Chris stiffening. “You have to go already?” Chris said.
“Sorry, kiddo, duty calls.” Dad ruffled Chris’s hair. “We’ll see you later at the festival, though, right? You can walk over with Ivy’s folks or other neighbors if you don’t want to go by yourselves.”
Mom was already grabbing her purse. “Right. Stay in the house until then. It’s too cold to play outside today anyway.”
“Sure, no problem,” Holly said. She’d already snapped the new cover onto her phone, which she was using to take selfies of herself and Ivy posing with their matching necklaces. “See you later.”
* * *
Chris stood on the front porch and waved as the car pulled out of the driveway. Dad waved back, though Mom was focused on her driving and didn’t see him.
“Shut the door!” Holly shouted from somewhere inside. “You’re letting all the cold air in!”
Chris frowned, tempted to leave the door standing open just to prove that his sister couldn’t order him around—even if she thought she was in charge.
But it really was pretty cold, so he closed the door behind him when he stepped inside. Then he and Peppermint Bark went back into the living room. The girls had disappeared, though Chris could hear them giggling and talking in the kitchen.
The living room was a mess, with gifts sitting around on every surface and scraps of ribbon and colorful wrapping paper all over the floor. Chris picked up his stuffed owl and studied it, trying to decide what its name should be. Owlie? Wise Guy? Feathers? Then he noticed Mom’s new scented candle nearby.
“Hey,” he said to Peppermint Bark, who was sniffing at the tinsel on the tree. “What was that all about earlier? You know—attacking that candle like you did?”
“Sorry about that, Chris.” The puppy’s tail drooped. “It smelled like home, so I thought it was a portal leading back to the North Pole.”
“A portal?” Chris remembered hearing that word in the dog’s flurry of excited barks. “What’s that?”
Peppermint Bark looked uncertain. “It’s like a magical gate, I think?” he said. “Or maybe more like a tunnel. Anyway, there’s a big one back home—Santa and the reindeer fly through it to get here.” He looked around. “To the rest of the world, I mean. Santa says there are lots of portals all over the planet to help him get everywhere he needs to go on Christmas Day.”
“But what do they look like?” Chris glanced again at the scented candle. “Wouldn’t a portal have to be a lot bigger than a candle if a whole sleigh is going to fly through it?”
Peppermint Bark sighed. “I’m not sure,” he said. “All I know is that they smell like the North Pole—and they’re disguised so people can’t stumble into one.” He looked up at Chris with sad brown eyes. “But I need to find one if I’m ever going to get home again.”
Before Chris could respond, Ivy burst into the room. “Hey!” she shouted, scowling at Chris with her hands on her hips. “I’m getting really freaked out here, okay? So what’s the deal with you and that dog, Chris? Is this some kind of trick?”
* * *
Holly was startled when her best friend ran out of the kitchen. She heard Ivy shouting something at Chris—something about the dog.
Holly hurried into the next room. “What’s going on, Ives?” she said. “Did Chris do something obnoxious? Because he’s like that, you know.”
“I was getting the cookies out of the pantry, like you asked.” Ivy kept her glare trained on Chris and Peppermint Bark. “I overheard Chris and, you know, him . . .” She nodded at the dog. “They were talking about, like, portals and the North Pole and stuff . . .”
Holly shook her head. “What do you mean, they were talking? I know Chris likes to pretend he can understand what that dog is saying, but . . .”
“Not just Chris.” Ivy turned to face her. “I can understand him too.”
“What?” Chris exclaimed.
The dog started barking excitedly, but Holly ignored him. “Seriously, Ives,” she said. “Don’t play into his silly games, or we’ll never get him to leave us alone.”
“I am serious.” Ivy stared at her. “When he barks, I hear words.” She glanced at the dog as he barked again. “For instance, he just said, ‘Hooray! You must have true Christmas spirit.’”
“Yeah, right.” Holly rolled her eyes, but there was something about the serious look on Ivy’s face that made her wonder. Dogs couldn’t talk—could they?
She turned to stare at Peppermint Bark. He gazed back happily, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Then he barked again.
Holly squinted, wondering if she was going crazy. She hadn’t heard words, exactly. But there was . . . something . . .
“Peppermint Bark says you have to listen with your heart,” Chris told her.
Ivy nodded. “I heard it too.” She looked from Peppermint Bark to Chris. “So it’s true? He’s Santa’s puppy?”
Chris nodded, and Peppermint Bark barked again. Holly frowned, feeling a little left out.
“Santa’s puppy?” she said. “Are you kidding me with this?”
“No.” Her little brother gazed at her earnestly. “He accidentally got left behind by Santa’s sleigh. Now he needs our help.”
Ivy was still watching Peppermint Bark. “So you live at the North Pole?” she asked tentatively. “And there are portals? I always wondered how Santa could travel around the whole world in one night . . . Wait, but what about the reindeer? Can they really fly? And are there, you know, elves and stuff?”
Holly knew that her friend was fascinated by magic and folklore and things like that. And she wasn’t a baby, like Chris. If Ivy said Peppermint Bark was Santa’s puppy, well, Holly would have to believe her.
“So hold on,” Holly said, interrupting the dog’s barking. “The idea is, we have to find some kind of magical portal to get him back to the North Pole?”
“Yes, something like that,” Ivy said. “This is amazing! I’ve always wanted to meet an elf.”
“So you’ll help us find a portal?” Chris asked his sister and Ivy, his face hopeful. “We’d probably be able to figure it out fast if all of us work together . . .”
Holly hesitated, still not quite daring to believe this was really happening. She looked from her brother to her best friend, her gaze finally settling on the dog. The dog with the eerily intelligent eyes and the barks that almost sounded like words . . .
7
North Pole AWOL
“Hurry, hurry!” Juniper’s urgent, high-pitched voice interrupted the rest of the elves, who were singing Christmas carols as they tidied their workshop. “Mrs. Claus will be here soon to inspect the premises. This workshop needs to look as fresh as new-fallen snow!”
Happy quickly swept the sawdust beneath his workbench into a pile. Nearby, an elf named Mistletoe wiped down her bench. She let out a soft snort. “That Juniper is awfully bossy, isn’t she?” she whispered to Happy. “Plus she’s doing more supervising than cleaning, if you ask me!”
Happy chuckled. “Juniper loves to supervise,” he agreed. “That’s why she’s been such a super Head Elf this year.”
“True, but Mrs. Claus won’t be here for hours.” Mistletoe shook out her rag. “She always spends Christmas morning cross-country skiing and monitoring the weather for Santa’s journey on that solar-powered weather station thingamabob she invented a few years ago. She probably won’t even come back to the castle until it’s time to take the Christmas cookies out of the oven.”
“I know. But we should finish tidying up as fast as we can anyway,” Happy reminded Mistletoe. “Mrs. Claus will be here eventually, and she can spot a tool out of place at fifty paces. Besides, Santa will be back as soon as the last time zone on Earth strikes midnight to end Christmas Day. And then we’ll need to get back to work making toys for next year.”
&nb
sp; Happy couldn’t wait! Making toys was the only thing he thought about—morning, noon, and night. Well, that and playing with toys . . . He had to admit that Juniper, Peppermint Bark, and even Santa himself had caught him doing that a few times over the past year!
Mistletoe was smiling now too. All elves loved making toys. Even Juniper looked almost cheerful when she was doing it.
“Okay, everyone!” an elf on the other side of the room called out. “How about we sing ‘Deck the Halls’ next? Deck the halls with boughs of holly . . .”
“Fa-la-la-la-la . . .” Happy sang along with the rest of the elves. Then he glanced over at Juniper. She was the only one not singing. Instead, she was standing at the top of the stone steps leading down into the workshop, her sharp eyes darting around the room to watch what the others were doing.
Suddenly the door behind her flew open. Mrs. Claus stood there, dressed in bright green ski pants, a red knitted cap, and a peppermint-striped parka with a mobile weather monitor poking out of one pocket. But instead of looking happy and excited to explore the tundra, her face was worried.
“Hello, everyone—don’t let me disturb you,” she said. “But have any of you seen Peppermint Bark lately?”
“Peppermint Bark?” Juniper echoed. “No—come to think of it, he hasn’t been helping with the cleanup at all.”
“That’s true,” an elf called out from the far end of the room. “Usually he loves to chase the stray ribbons and wires into the trash bin.”
“And gobble up any leftover peppermints,” another elf added.
Happy giggled. “And bark along with our singing, even though he usually gets the words wrong—like, Deck the halls with bow-wows of holly . . .”
Mrs. Claus chuckled, but she also started pacing back and forth. She always had lots of energy—she had to, to keep the snow castle and workshop running smoothly, maintain all the tech and equipment, and still enjoy her favorite snow sports—and rarely stood still for long. But this was different.
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