Behind him came the faint sound of Chris and the others shouting. But Peppermint Bark was completely focused on reaching Santa before the reindeer took off again.
“I’m coming!” he cried, flinging himself onto a shrub covered in twinkling multicolored lights. The woven net of cords tangled around his leash and caught on one hind paw, but that hardly slowed him down. He leaped upward, dragging the lights with him, scrabbling wildly at the edge of the porch railing. Then it was one more leap into a huge hanging basket of holly and pine boughs draped with ribbons.
“Whoa!” Peppermint Bark cried as the basket creaked and swung under his weight. “Yikes!”
He scrambled upward, his front claws barely grabbing the rain gutter as the basket came loose and crashed to the ground. Oops! Well, he was sure Santa could fix that . . .
“Santa!” he cried, pulling himself up onto the porch roof. But the string of lights was still dangling from his hind foot and seemed to be stuck on something. Drat!
There was a thick green cord snaking across the roof right in front of him. Peppermint Bark grabbed it in his teeth to anchor himself. Then he gave one more kick to loosen the lights from his hind foot . . . and this time felt something give way.
“Look out!” Chris cried from somewhere below. “Peppermint Bark, you’re going to pull over the . . . Oops.”
Peppermint Bark glanced over his shoulder, which pulled the thick green cord in his teeth farther down toward the edge of the roof. Below, he saw that the twinkling lights had been attached to a decorative lamppost, which had just tipped over—in turn bringing down more strings of lights and several large balloons.
“Look out!” Holly pointed at something behind Peppermint Bark.
There was an ominous creaking sound. “Uh-oh,” Peppermint Bark murmured, turning back to look at the roof.
CRE-E-E-E-EAK!
It was the sleigh! Pulling on the cord had yanked it loose! The sleigh slid slowly, scraping over the shingles, tilting sideways . . .
“Santa, be careful!” Peppermint Bark cried as he saw his friend tipping toward the edge of the roof.
Then Peppermint Bark blinked. Wait—now that he was closer, there was something odd about Santa . . .
“Peppermint Bark, get out of the way!” Chris cried from below. “The whole thing’s coming down!”
“Santa?” Peppermint Bark whimpered.
But it wasn’t Santa—not the real one, anyway. Peppermint Bark could see that now. The plastic smile. The overly red dots on the round cheeks and bulbous nose. The enormous belly, much larger than the real Santa’s now that Mrs. Claus had convinced him to go hiking with her more often. Not to mention the reindeer—there were only four of them rather than eight, and while one of them looked a little like Prancer, the others . . .
“Peppermint Bark! Move!” Chris screamed, breaking into the little dog’s thoughts.
Peppermint Bark’s eyes widened as he saw that the sleigh was skidding straight toward him, coming faster and faster . . .
“Aaaaah!” he cried, his paws losing their grip on the roof. “Oof!”
He landed in the basket of greens that had fallen before. The pointy holly branches poked him painfully, but he couldn’t worry about that. He grabbed the edge of the basket with his teeth and flipped it over on top of himself, huddling beneath the protective dome as the holiday display came crashing down . . .
* * *
Chris held his breath as the huge sleigh, reindeer, and Santa Claus came crashing down from the Oumas’ roof. As soon as the chaos was over, he raced forward. “Peppermint Bark?” he cried. “Where are you?”
“He’s got to be okay.” Holly sounded worried. “Come on, help me move this stuff!”
But before Chris could panic, a familiar furry white head popped into view. Peppermint Bark was on the porch, crawling out from beneath the hanging basket he’d knocked down. The plastic sleigh and other stuff had missed him and landed farther out on the lawn. Whew!
But Chris’s relief didn’t last long. The front door opened, revealing a surprised-looking middle-aged couple.
Chris gulped, then smiled weakly. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Ouma. Uh, merry Christmas?”
9
Good Tidyings for Christmas
Chris could tell that the Oumas weren’t happy about having their holiday display ruined. Mr. Ouma had a funny little crease in his forehead that wasn’t usually there. And Mrs. Ouma kept wringing her hands and saying, “Oh my goodness.”
“We’re really sorry,” Chris told them, grabbing the end of Peppermint Bark’s makeshift leash. “Um, we just rescued this dog, and—”
Mrs. Ouma brightened immediately. “Oh, he’s a rescue?” She leaned down for a closer look at the little dog. “How nice! That explains why he isn’t very well trained yet, I suppose.”
Chris traded a look with the two girls. “Um, yeah,” Holly said. “Anyway, he pulled away when Chris was supposed to be holding on to him . . .”—she paused just long enough to shoot her brother a dirty look—“and I guess he was, like, trying to chase the reindeer or something?”
Ivy giggled nervously. “Yeah, he might have thought they were real,” she offered. “They look really great.” She glanced at the fake reindeer, now lying jumbled together on the lawn. “Um, they did, anyway . . .”
“Thanks.” Mr. Ouma sighed and rubbed his face as he looked around. “We were hoping . . . well, never mind.”
“Anyway, he jumped and climbed his way up onto the roof and I guess his paw caught on a cord or something?” Holly shrugged. “And then . . . kaboom.”
“We can help you clean up the mess,” Ivy offered.
Holly nodded. “Yeah, we feel really bad about it.”
“Don’t feel bad—it was an accident,” Mrs. Ouma assured them, finally dredging up what looked like a real smile. “I know you’re good kids. How could you know your new rescue dog was such a talented climber?”
Mr. Ouma was still staring at the mess. “Yes, I’m sure I can put things back together before the contest judging,” he said. He checked his watch. “Probably . . .”
Chris let out a silent sigh of relief. He felt bad about the mess too. But they didn’t have much time to get Peppermint Bark home. That was much more important than some silly holiday decorating contest, right?
But Ivy stepped forward. “No, we insist,” she said in her polite talking-to-adults voice. “It will be easier with all of us helping. Besides, it was our dog that messed it up.”
Chris stiffened. Beside him, he barely heard Holly whisper, “Ives! They said it was okay!”
But Mrs. Ouma was already nodding and smiling. “Thank you, dear,” she said. “Maybe that would be best.”
“Yes.” Mr. Ouma sounded relieved. “It took three people to get that sleigh up there. I’m not sure I could even do it by myself. Just give me a second to grab my coat and gloves and we can get started.”
He and his wife hurried back inside. Chris spun to glare at Ivy.
“Are you crazy?” he exclaimed. “This is going to take forever!”
“Yeah,” Holly added. “They already said we didn’t have to help, Ives!”
Ivy shrugged, looking stubborn. “It’s the right thing to do,” she insisted.
Chris sighed loudly. But Peppermint Bark nudged his leg. “Ivy is right,” the little dog barked. “We—I mean, I—caused this mess. It’s only right that we should help fix it.”
Ivy smiled slightly. “Exactly.”
“But we don’t have much time until—” Chris began.
His sister elbowed him sharply. The Oumas had just returned. “Okay, kids,” Mr. Ouma said cheerfully, clapping his gloved hands briskly. “Ready to get to work?”
* * *
Peppermint Bark wished he could do more to help. But every time he got anywhere near the decorations, the adults looked suspicious. Finally he just sat back and watched as the kids and the Oumas worked.
It took a little more than an hour before everything was more or le
ss back the way it had been. Now that he was thinking clearly, Peppermint Bark could hardly believe he’d mistaken the plastic Santa for the real thing. The fake one was not only a little fatter, his nose was bigger and his beard was shorter. Not to mention that the reindeer were too small, too few, and not even the right color . . .
Finally the Oumas seemed satisfied. “I’m not sure it’s a prize-winning display, but it’ll do,” Mr. Ouma said, plugging in the last set of lights. “Thanks for helping put it back together, kids.”
His wife nodded. “It’s awfully chilly out here,” she said with a dramatic shiver. “Won’t you all come in for some hot cocoa?”
“Oh, thank you!” Ivy said.
“Thanks, but we’ve really got to go,” Chris said at the same time, shooting Ivy a glare.
Ivy cleared her throat. “Um, Chris is right. We should go,” she said politely. “But thanks for the offer! Merry Christmas!”
Peppermint Bark trotted along at Chris’s heels as the kids waved goodbye to the Oumas and hurried down the sidewalk. “Sorry about that, you guys,” he barked.
“It’s okay—you didn’t mean to,” Chris said. “But from now on, check with me before you run off, okay?”
“Sure, Chris.” Peppermint Bark wagged his tail.
Chris glanced at the girls. “Now we really have to hurry,” he said. “Let’s get to the post office as fast as we can, okay? Because we have even less time than we did before, thanks to a certain someone.”
For a second Peppermint Bark thought Chris was talking about him. But then Ivy frowned. “I told you, it was the right thing to do!” she snapped.
Chris rolled his eyes and glanced at his sister. Holly shrugged. “Yeah, Ives is right,” she said. “We had to help fix that mess.”
“What?” Chris sounded wounded, though Peppermint Bark wasn’t sure exactly why. “Okay, whatever. The post office is this way.” Chris sped up, walking so fast that Peppermint Bark had to break into a trot to keep up.
The girls followed. “Hey, wait, I just thought of something,” Holly said as they neared the end of the block. “It’s Christmas Day. Isn’t everything closed today?”
“Not Jingle Junction—that’s open all day,” Ivy said. “I think the supermarket might be open too, at least for part of the day, and the International Center at PVU, and maybe also—”
“Okay, not my point, Ives,” Holly interrupted. “What about the post office?”
“Oh.” Chris’s face fell. “Actually, I think you’re right. It’s closed today. We won’t be able to get inside to check out that wreath.”
Peppermint Bark was about to ask what they meant. But they’d just rounded the corner . . . and he caught a whiff of a familiar scent.
“Gingerbread and pinecones!” he barked excitedly. “It’s a portal!”
10
Postmark: Christmas
“Stop!” Chris cried as the little dog yanked the leash out of his hand and took off. “Peppermint Bark, you promised not to do that!”
“But I’m sure this time!” Peppermint Bark cried. “It’s a portal—I can see it now! It’s at the bottom of that big Christmas tree!”
Chris looked ahead. Half a block away was the little municipal complex consisting of the town hall, the post office, and a couple of other official buildings. In the middle of them was an enormous Christmas tree. Was there really a portal there? It made sense . . .
“Wait!” Chris called, breaking into a run. Was Peppermint Bark going to leave without even saying goodbye? “I just want to . . .”
“Christopher Kerstman!” a stern voice rang out nearby. “Stop where you are, young man!”
Chris skidded to a stop. Nobody in town dared to disobey that voice. He turned to see a white-haired man with a tidy mustache and very upright posture striding toward him. “Um, hi, Mr. Brooks,” Chris said. “Merry Christmas.”
“And a very merry Christmas to you, too.” Mr. Brooks nodded sharply and straightened his red-and-green-plaid bow tie. “Is that your dog?”
By then Holly and Ivy had caught up. “Hi, Mr. Brooks,” Holly said breathlessly. “Sorry about that. We had him on a leash, but he got away.”
“There are laws about loose dogs in this town, you know.” The old man glanced toward Peppermint Bark, who was racing toward the tree.
Chris looked that way too, and his heart sank. Peppermint Bark was almost there. And now, if Chris squinted slightly, he was pretty sure he could see a funny swirling shape in the tree’s lower branches, like a whirlpool in the air.
The portal, he thought. I guess I won’t get to say goodbye after all . . .
* * *
“I’m coming, Santa!” Peppermint Bark barked as he hurled himself toward the Christmas tree. “I’m coming!”
The portal swirled and swirled, just like the one he’d seen through the gates at the North Pole. The delicious, homey scents of gingerbread and pinecones washed out toward him, pulling him forward.
Wow, that was easier than I thought, Peppermint Bark told himself happily. I’m going home! All thanks to Chris and his friends . . .
The little dog stopped in front of the portal and turned to thank the kids for everything they’d done. To his surprise, they were still half a block back. A stern-looking older man was shaking a finger at them. Then the man turned and pointed—straight at Peppermint Bark!
“Uh-oh,” Peppermint Bark said. “Did I get them in trouble again?”
He glanced at the portal. Was it his imagination, or did it look a little smaller than it had a moment ago? No, it wasn’t his imagination—even as he watched, it shrank a little more. Peppermint Bark wasn’t sure what that meant, but he could guess.
It’s closing! he thought with a gulp. I might not have much time . . .
Then he looked at the kids down the block. He couldn’t let them get in trouble—again—because of him. Besides, the portal wasn’t that small yet. He still had time . . .
Peppermint Bark raced back to the kids. The man was saying something about leash laws and community standards and town supervisor meetings. Peppermint Bark didn’t understand much of it, but he could guess what had started the lecture.
“Pick up my leash,” he barked softly at Chris. “Maybe that will help.”
Chris nodded and grabbed the belt, which had been dragging behind Peppermint Bark. “See? He’s on the leash again,” Chris told the man.
“Harrumph.” The man looked down his beaklike nose at Peppermint Bark. “Even so, it’s important for you youngsters to realize . . .”
“Nice try,” Holly muttered to Chris, just loudly enough for Peppermint Bark to hear. “You know you can’t stop Mr. Brooks once he gets his scold on.”
Peppermint Bark stared up at the man, who looked grumpy—far too grumpy for anyone to be on Christmas!
Peppermint Bark wagged his tail, letting out a soft chime of jingle bells. Peppermint Bark could tell that Chris heard it—and Ivy, too. Even Holly glanced at him in surprise.
Mr. Brooks didn’t look down at Peppermint Bark, but his expression softened slightly as the puppy’s Christmas magic washed over him. “Well, never mind,” he said in a gruff but friendlier tone. “It’s Christmas, eh? Just try not to let it happen again, all right?”
“We won’t,” Holly assured him.
Just then there was a tinkle of melody from somewhere on the man. Peppermint Bark pricked up his ears, recognizing the tune—“The Twelve Days of Christmas,” one of the elves’ favorites to sing while they worked.
Mr. Brooks pulled a cell phone from his pocket and glanced at it. “I’d better go,” he told the kids, tucking the phone away again. “They need me at the festival setup.” He hurried off, still muttering under his breath. “I do declare, if I don’t attend to every last detail myself, something is sure to go wrong . . .”
As soon as the man disappeared around the corner, Peppermint Bark whirled to face the kids. “You were right, Holly!” he barked. “There’s a portal at the post office—but it’s ou
tside in the tree, not inside in the wreath!”
“He says you were right, Hols,” Ivy translated. “There’s one of the portals outside—”
“In the tree,” Holly finished for her, looking a bit stunned. “Yeah, I think . . . I think I got that part.”
Chris looked surprised. “You understood him?”
Peppermint Bark was glad that Holly seemed to be getting her Christmas spirit back. But he didn’t have time to congratulate her. “We have to hurry!” he urged the kids. “The portals—they don’t all stay open the whole time. When Santa is finished with one, it might close early. And this one looks like it’s closing!”
Chris gasped. “Let’s go!”
They ran toward the Christmas tree. Peppermint Bark was leading the way. But when they got closer, the little dog could see that the portal was smaller now—much smaller.
“I have to go!” he cried. “I’m sorry there’s not much time for goodbyes. Thank you for helping me, and merry Christmas!”
He glanced at the kids, especially Chris, knowing he would miss this new friend most of all. Chris smiled at him. Then the boy glanced at the tree and gasped.
“Hurry!” he cried. “You have to go now!”
Peppermint Bark spun around, leaped forward . . . and crashed into the prickly branches of the tree.
“Oh no!” Ivy exclaimed behind him. “You’re too late. The portal is gone!”
11
A Happy Holiday
“Oof! Portals are crazy!” Happy exclaimed as he and Juniper tumbled out onto the ground. He sat up and held his head in both hands. “Whoa! When will everything stop spinning?”
Juniper jumped to her feet. “Shake it off, elf,” she ordered. “We have work to do.”
Happy climbed to his feet, still dizzy. Traveling through the portal had been like being inside a sparkly, spinning Christmas ornament. The sounds of cheery Christmas carols had surrounded them, and the scents of pinecones and gingerbread were even stronger than they were at the North Pole. It was fun, but a little befuddling.
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