Jonathan laughed. “You let someone give your racing car away?” he said. “Boy, Jeffrey, you’re a real wimp.”
“Yeah, and you’re a big jerk and your sister’s a toadface,” Jeffrey said.
Suddenly, Jeffrey’s father was standing in the doorway. “Jeffrey, could we have a private conversation in the hall?”
Jonathan laughed as Jeffrey went with his father.
“Jeffrey, three things to remember,” Mr. Becker said. “First, Wendy and Jonathan are our guests, so no more sarcastic remarks. Second, the Alamo. Third, if you try, you might actually have fun with your cousins this week.”
Reluctantly, Jeffrey promised to try to get along with Jonathan. Then he walked back to his room.
When dinnertime came that night, Jeffrey hid in his room. He could hear Jonathan downstairs whining like a broken record. Jonathan kept saying over and over, “That’s not how we do it at Christmas.” But suddenly his whining voice was replaced by slow, quiet music. It came from the piano in the family room.
The melody was so beautiful and sad that it drew Jeffrey downstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Becker came out of the kitchen, too. They all found Wendy sitting at the piano. She swayed back and forth a little as she played. When she was done and the last long note died away, Mr. Becker said, “That was beautiful.”
“No way,” Wendy said. “Your piano’s out of tune a quarter tone in the midrange. It made my teeth clench.”
Mrs. Becker ignored the insult. “Dinner is ready,” she said pleasantly.
All through dinner, Jeffrey’s mom had a faraway look on her face. Finally, she told him what she was thinking. “Jeffrey,” she said, “I really wish you had stuck to your piano lessons. I’d give anything for you to be able to play as wonderfully as Wendy.”
“I will, Mom,” he said. “But not when I’m a kid. Everyone does that. I’m going to learn to play when I’m ninety years old. That’s when people will really be surprised.”
“Oh, gross, Jeffrey,” Wendy said. “Don’t eat your potato puffs with your fingers. It’s not good manners.”
Jeffrey looked at his hand and then at the potato puff in it. His parents and Wendy were looking at him. Jonathan laughed his big horse laugh. Jeffrey felt like a criminal who had been caught red-handed.
“Well, tomorrow’s going to be a fun day,” said Mr. Becker, trying to change the subject. “We’ve got to buy our Christmas tree and decorate it—”
“You mean you decorate your tree before Christmas Eve?” Wendy interrupted. She and her brother looked at each other in surprise.
“What do you do?” Jeffrey asked. “Build a little Christmas tree house in it?”
“We wait until it’s Christmas Eve to decorate our tree,” Wendy said.
“And at midnight we give each other one present,” Jonathan added.
“And then we have turkey for dinner the next day,” Wendy went on. “But my mom said you won’t have turkey. You always have roast beef.” She dropped her fork loudly on her plate. “Why do we have to do everything your way?”
Jeffrey’s parents didn’t have an answer ready.
Jonathan noisily scooted his chair back and left the table. “This Christmas is going to be no fun at all,” he grumbled on his way out of the dining room.
“Well,” Jeffrey said to Wendy, “for once your brother and I agree. This Christmas is no fun at all!”
With that, Jeffrey scooted out his chair and stomped out of the room, too.
Chapter Six
“Hey, Jeffrey. Look outside!” said Mr. Becker. He was standing by Jeffrey’s bed early the next morning. His voice was excited, but he was whispering so that he wouldn’t wake up Jonathan.
Jeffrey sat up quickly and looked out his window. It had happened again. Another thick snowfall had covered the town during the night.
“Toboggan Sunday!” Jeffrey shouted. He gave his father a high-five.
Mr. Becker put a finger to his lips. “Shhh,” he told Jeffrey. He pointed to Jonathan, who was zipped up in the sleeping bag on the floor. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
As Jeffrey hurried into his warmest clothes, there was a tug and a zip and then Jonathan poked his head out of the sleeping bag. Jeffrey was almost happy to see his cousin. He knew Jonathan would go bananas over what was going to happen.
“Get dressed, Jonathan. It’s Toboggan Sunday!” Jeffrey said.
“I don’t want to go to church,” Jonathan said sleepily.
“That’s not what it means,” Jeffrey said. “My dad has an old toboggan in the attic. It’s from when he was a kid. Once a year he gets it out and we take it down Number One Hill on the golf course.”
“So?” Jonathan mumbled as he stretched and yawned.
“But it has to be a Sunday, and only a Sunday in December, and only if there’s a brand-new snowstorm the night before. And this is it! Pretty neat, huh?”
Jonathan looked out the window and shrugged. “Doesn’t look like a very big snowstorm to me.”
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Jeffrey said.
Jonathan shrugged again. “What else is there to do around here?”
They ate breakfast while Mr. Becker carried the toboggan down from the attic and tied it to the rack on the roof of the car.
At the table, Wendy rested her cheek in her hand. She stirred and stirred her oatmeal.
“Don’t you like it, Wendy?” asked Mrs. Becker.
“It’s better with sliced peaches,” Wendy said. Then she scowled at Jeffrey. “Blow your nose, Jeffrey. Don’t sniff up!”
Beep! Beep!
“That’s the car,” Jeffrey said. “Dad’s ready to go.”
“I’m not going,” Wendy said. “Our mom and dad wouldn’t want us to do anything dangerous.”
“It’s not really dangerous, Wendy.” Mrs. Becker tried to explain. “Why don’t you go check it out and then decide?”
Wendy shook her head.
“Okay, stay home by yourself,” Jeffrey said, jumping up from the table and putting on his parka and scarf.
“She can’t do that,” said Mrs. Becker. “I’ll stay home.”
“But it’s Toboggan Sunday, Mom. You don’t want to miss it,” Jeffrey said. He looked angrily at Wendy.
“Your father’s waiting,” Mrs. Becker said in her “get going” tone of voice. “And don’t forget the Thermos of hot chocolate.”
Outside, Jonathan checked out the antique wooden toboggan. It was tied to the roof of the snowy car. It was almost eight feet long, varnished smooth on top, and waxed smooth on the bottom. The front end of the toboggan curved around like a backward C. Two ropes, one on each side, ran the length of the toboggan.
“The ropes are for holding on to,” Jeffrey explained.
“I know that,” Jonathan said quickly.
“I forgot. You know everything,” Jeffrey said.
“But I never hold on,” Jonathan said defiantly. “I ride ’em like a roller coaster. Holding on is for wimps.”
Jeffrey scrunched down in the front seat. He was getting tired of this. Every conversation with his cousin ended with the word wimp. Jonathan sounded like he was pointing a finger straight at Jeffrey.
“You’d hold on if you went down the Monster Smash,” Jeffrey muttered.
“What’s the Monster Smash?” Jonathan asked.
“It’s a really steep hill—that’s the monster part. Then at the bottom there are lots of trees real close together. That’s the smash. You can’t slow down,” Jeffrey said.
“Sounds great,” Jonathan said excitedly. “I dare you to go down it with me.”
“Forget it, guys,” said Mr. Becker, starting the car. “Neither one of you is going down that hill. And I mean it.”
When they arrived at the golf course, it was already crowded. The sledders and skiers stayed on Number Two and Number Three hills. But on the long Number One Hill, the snow had been packed down hard. It made a superslick run just for toboggans. Number Four, just in front of a thick woods,
was the Monster Smash.
Jeffrey, Jonathan, and Mr. Becker waited their turn at the top of Number One and then rode the toboggan together. The ride was fast and the wind stung their cheeks. Jeffrey was so happy he yelled the whole way down. Everyone held on tightly to the ropes. They did it over and over until the hot chocolate was all gone and Mr. Becker was tired. Then he went to talk to another parent while Jeffrey and Jonathan rode some more.
As soon as Mr. Becker was gone, Jonathan looked over toward Number Four Hill, the Monster Smash. “Let’s go for it,” he said.
“My dad says no,” Jeffrey said.
Jonathan made a face. “Do you always do everything your daddy says?”
“Only on days when I’m supposed to get my allowance,” Jeffrey joked. “Do you know what would happen if we wrecked my dad’s toboggan? If we lived through the accident, we’d never see the outside world again. We’d be grounded for life.”
“I’m really scared.” Jonathan sounded bored. He looked again at the steep hill. And so did Jeffrey. “Don’t you want to?” Jonathan asked.
Jeffrey shook his head.
“You and me—two cousins! We’ll go down it together.” Jonathan’s hand became a toboggan zipping down a hill and his mouth became the wind. “Zwoosh! Two cousins!”
Jeffrey liked the way Jonathan said “two cousins.” Maybe they could be friends after all. Besides, secretly he’d always wanted to ride the Monster Smash. He turned to check. His father was still talking.
“Come on,” Jonathan said with a big smile.
The two boys tugged on the toboggan and hurried to the top of the Monster Smash. They had the hill all to themselves. Down below, they saw the enormous pine trees. They also saw broken pieces of toboggans and smashed-up sleds. Jeffrey’s heart was pounding.
“I’ve got a plan,” Jonathan said. “You get on in front. I’ll give us a push and then hop on behind you.”
Jeffrey nodded his head quickly. He was breathing too fast to talk. He sat down on the toboggan.
“One… two… three!” Jonathan shouted, and then started to push.
Jeffrey felt the toboggan move slowly through the deep snow. At the edge of the hill, it tipped downward. Then it started to go faster.
“Hold on, Jonathan!” Jeffrey shouted. “Here we go!”
But Jonathan didn’t answer. As the toboggan raced down the hill, Jeffrey looked behind him. Jonathan wasn’t there! He was still at the top of the Monster Smash, waving and laughing as Jeffrey zoomed toward the trees.
Jeffrey should have been furious at his cousin, but there wasn’t time. There was only time to hold on tight. The wind rushed against Jeffrey’s face until he was numb.
The toboggan tilted and bumped, but Jeffrey held on to the ropes. Then he saw one of the big pine trees getting closer and closer. He was heading straight for it!
This is it, Jeffrey thought. The toboggan and I are both going to be smashed to toothpicks.
But a split second later, the toboggan veered to the side. It squeezed through the narrow space between two large pines. Then it slid straight into the side of a large snowdrift.
Jeffrey came to a stop with a jerk. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He couldn’t believe it. Somehow he was still alive—and he had done it! He had survived the Monster Smash! He tried to stand up, but his legs were shaking too much.
“Jeffrey!” a loud voice called to him from up the hill.
Then Jeffrey saw his father. He was half running and half sliding down the hill. Jonathan was following him.
Jeffrey knew he was in trouble now. “Dad,” Jeffrey said as his father helped him out of the snowdrift. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. It was Jonathan’s idea.”
“Jeffrey,” his father shouted. He grabbed him, hugged him, and pounded him on the back. “It was the most fantastic thing I’ve ever seen. You were fabulous. Totally, incredibly awesome!”
Jonathan stopped in his tracks about twenty feet away. He didn’t say anything for a second. He just looked at Jeffrey and his father hugging. Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed his wrist.
“Oooowwww,” he moaned. “I think I sprained my wrist when I gave Jeffrey that push. Owww! You’ve got to get me to a doctor fast, Uncle Bob. It really hurts.”
Mr. Becker stopped pounding Jeffrey and took a look at Jonathan’s arm. “I don’t see anything,” he said, “but we’d better get you to the emergency room right now.”
“But he’s not really hurt,” Jeffrey said. “He’s just faking!”
“We’ve already taken enough chances today,” said Mr. Becker. “Let’s go.”
And that was the end of Toboggan Sunday.
The doctors at the hospital couldn’t find anything wrong with Jonathan’s wrist. But for the rest of the day, Jonathan babied it, anyway.
“I need something to drink,” Jonathan said as soon as they got home.
Immediately, Mrs. Becker got some cola for him.
“I need something to eat,” Jonathan said.
Mr. Becker made sandwiches for him.
And the pain seemed to get worse every time someone started to talk about how Jeffrey had gone down the Monster Smash.
That evening, when Mrs. Becker came up to Jeffrey’s room, Jeffrey was tossing a tennis ball in the air. He tossed it up and caught it in Max’s baseball glove.
“Hello, stranger,” said Mrs. Becker. “You’ve been up here forever. What are you doing?” She gave him a warm smile and sat down on his bed. “Let’s talk about Jonathan—”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I know what you’re going to say,” Jeffrey interrupted. “I know Jonathan almost got me killed on the Monster Smash. And from now on I won’t listen to anything else he says unless I have a lawyer with me.”
“Well—”
“You don’t have to say it, Mom. Really,” Jeffrey went on. “I know you’re trying to say you finally realized you’ve been giving Jonathan and Wendy all of your attention. It’s almost like I’ve been a ghost around here.”
“But—” his mother started to say.
“It’s okay, Mom. I know you’re trying to admit that you’ve made a mistake. You made all of their favorite foods and none of mine. And you’ve been giving me the smallest desserts after dinner. And you’ve said some things that hurt my feelings. But you didn’t really mean them. In fact, you’re so sorry that you’d like to put Jonathan and Wendy on a bus right now and send them back home. Then you can spend all of your time loving and adoring me just the way you used to. But you don’t have to say any of that, Mom, because I know.”
“Actually, Jeffrey,” Mrs. Becker said, “I came up here to tell you that from now on, Jonathan will be sleeping in your bed. And you will be sleeping in the sleeping bag. It’ll be much better for his wrist.”
“I told you not to say it, Mom,” Jeffrey said, covering his ears.
Chapter Seven
The next day was Monday, the first day of Christmas vacation.
Jeffrey and his mother spent the morning dusting and vacuuming the living room while Jonathan lay on the couch, watching cartoons. Wendy read a book.
Then the doorbell rang.
“Would you answer the door, Jonathan?” Mrs. Becker shouted over the vacuum cleaner.
“Ooooowww, my wrist,” Jonathan moaned.
Jeffrey glared at his cousin. “I’ll get it,” he grumbled.
Jeffrey opened the front door and stared at the woman on the porch. It was Mrs. Merrin. But for a minute, Jeffrey didn’t recognize her. She was wrapped in scarves and wore big, furry earmuffs.
“Hi, Jeffrey,” she said, smiling.
“Hi,” Jeffrey said cautiously. “Isn’t it considered a hit-and-run violation to give a kid homework over Christmas vacation?”
“Very funny,” said Mrs. Merrin. “Come on out. I want to show you something.”
Jeffrey grabbed his parka and put on his boots. Then Mrs. Merrin led Jeffrey to a section of the Beckers’ front yard where the snow was fresh and white and witho
ut a single footprint. Written in the snow, right in front of the snowman Jeffrey had built, were the words:
Thanks, Jeffrey. Love, Mrs. M.
Jeffrey looked at the writing in the snow. Then he looked at his teacher.
“For what?” Jeffrey asked.
“For playing Santa Claus again. My husband told me you dropped by my house in your Santa Claus suit. He said you told him how ‘coolsville’ it would be for him to buy a mixer for me.”
“But, Mrs. Merrin…” Jeffrey didn’t know what to say. His teacher looked so happy. How could he tell her that it wasn’t him? It was Max.
“You don’t have to make up any stories,” Mrs. Merrin said. “And you don’t have to admit that it was you. But it was a very sweet thing to do. And I hope you have a great Christmas, too.”
She waved good-bye, then walked toward her little red car. It was parked in front of Jeffrey’s house. Jeffrey waved back.
He was happy for Mrs. Merrin. But he felt bad about getting the credit for something Max had done. Santa Max had given Jeffrey’s car to Arvin Pubbler. And now Santa Max had made sure that Mrs. Merrin got her mixer. It was Max, the third-grade ghost, who was keeping the Christmas spirit alive. Jeffrey wanted to see his friend again. Life wasn’t the same without him.
Jeffrey wrote a message in the snow right next to Mrs. Merrin’s.
Max. I’m sorry. Your friend, Jeffrey.
No sooner had Jeffrey finished the message than something invisible suddenly made a snow angel in the snow. It brushed up the loose snow and erased Jeffrey’s words. Then Max appeared in the snow angel, lying on his back, moving his arms and legs.
“Max!” Jeffrey shouted happily. “You’re back!”
“Hey, hey, hey, and a one-horse open sleigh, Daddy-o,” Max said. “I dig your letter. Heartsville.”
“I really missed you,” Jeffrey said.
“Like, I know, Daddy-o. Who wouldn’t miss cool, little old me?” Max said. “Jeffrey, I really blew it with your racing car, too. Like, something weirdsville happened when I put on the Jingle Bell man’s costume. Sorry, cat.”
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