by Marc Franco
“They look full. How exciting.”
Hey, I wasn’t lying. Technically speaking the frontpacks were kind of like gifts—gifts from Baum to me. I walked over to the closet my friends and I called “the fort” and opened the door. Being that it was under the stairs, it was odd-shaped but spacious. An adult could stand comfortably. I left the frontpacks in there and closed the door, coming face to face with my dad.
“Hey, bud. I fished one of the phones out from the bottom of the pool. Any idea how it got there?” I froze for a second then grabbed my jacket, not prepared in the least to answer that question, but I had to—and truthfully.
“Oh, the phone, yeah,” I finally stuttered and looked over at my mom then back at my dad. “It started smoking and, well, I kicked it into the pool.”
I stared at them, studying their expressions. My mom was easy to read. She was already back to pouring almonds into a baggie. My dad’s face, on the other hand, had me shooting glances at the front door, wondering if I’d see the other side of it this year.
“Smoking,” he pressed his lips and gave me an appreciative nod. “Nice one. But seriously, big guy—it’s coming out of your allowance. Tell me next time, okay? I probably could have fixed it,” he said, then ambled off toward his office.
“Sorry,” I said. My dad threw his arms up and shot me the peace sign. I looked over at my mom.
She suddenly looked up like she remembered something. “Hey, I almost forgot. Mr. Raffo dropped off a box for you. At first I thought it was one of the weird packages he has you mail. I almost laid it over by the mailbox this morning until I saw it was addressed to you. Must be a gift. It’s right there on the table.”
It was a large box, big enough to hold a printer, and mom was right, it was addressed to me. After I pulled off the tape, my mom came over.
“Well that’s not nice,” she said as I opened the top flap. “An empty box. It didn’t feel empty.”
Was my mom messing with me or could she seriously not see the ancient-looking metal book? I went to pick it up when a ripple moved across the metal cover. It was as if I’d touched water. Unnerved, I jerked my hands back.
“Did you just pretend to touch something?”
“No—I mean, I didn’t pretend.”
“It sure looked like it,” my mom said, reaching inside the box. “Oh my gosh! Where did that come from?” She stared at the book for a moment then felt her forehead. “I must be losing my mind. It’s the holidays. I haven’t been sleeping well.” She looked down at the book. “It’s beautiful and looks very old.”
We stared at it. The front cover was a shiny silvery metal. On the top half of the cover was a giant hand holding an open scroll with ten things written across it. I realized they were the Ten Christmas Rules. A standing polar bear was on each side of the scroll. Below the scroll was a city. I noticed that the tallest building was flying a red and white flag just like the one outside The Teashroom. I turned the book on its side. The Kringle Chronicles was written on the spine.
“Let me see that,” my mom said, taking the book. “Oh my, this is sterling silver. It looks just like your father’s Siddur. Oh my gosh, I hope Mr. Raffo didn’t give you his.” She turned the book over. “Oh, okay, no, it’s not.” On the back cover were nine etched reindeer heads with name tags hanging around their necks. Actually, they looked like military-style dog tags. The book obviously had something to do with Christmas.
My mom turned to the first page. “Blank pages. Oh, it must be a journal. Well, take care of it and make sure you thank Mr. Raffo.”
I was speechless. The pages weren’t blank, they were covered in text and drawings. But I was pretty sure I knew why my mom couldn’t see anything—because I hadn’t touched the pages. I closed the book and tucked it under my arm.
“I will. Call me when the almonds are ready,” I said, running up the stairs to my room. I hopped up on my bed and read the title again, The Kringle Chronicles—just like the Web site and the book in the invisible room in the Crystal Palace. I eagerly opened the book and began to read. The prologue was titled In the Beginning. It began with an introduction to the history of the Poles of Polanshalem, sworn enemies of the giants. Then it talked about borders, treaties, and even had an ancient-looking map of a supercontinent. I read some more and learned that the text I was reading was actually Brewpolan, the official language of the Poles. It looked like a mix of Chinese and Hebrew. I didn’t know either language, yet I could read the text. I skipped ahead to the first chapter. It was titled Survival of the Hanokh. It mentioned a terrible freeze which occurred after the original garden was violated by Adam and Eve—a freeze that destroyed most of the great beasts, giants, and even man. Lord Hanokh, a Pole of Polanshalem and a great leader to his people, helped them survive. He also earned the trust of those beings not bound by time—the elves and dwarves. Six thousand years passed and the population of beasts, giants, and men swelled. New alliances were forged between Earth’s creatures, and new borders were drawn. The dwarves and elves remained masters of their domain: the timeless forests, metal-rich mountains, and earthy underground. Man chose the northern highlands near the sea and named their land North Polanshalem. The fierce Mar dragons, largest of the sea creatures, remained loyal to their master, man, and chose the sea along North Polanshalem. The giants greedily claimed the rest of the land. Another five hundred years passed. Then war broke out.
“Jakob!”
Ugh! It was my mom. I quickly flipped ahead to see what happened next. Chapter four was titled Santa and the Servant. And there he was—the cloaked, dusty man from my dreams—in a picture below the title.
“They’re ready!” my mom yelled louder, but I couldn’t stop reading just yet. It was impossible to put down the book. I quickly read the history of Santa and Servant Rupert—or S.R. as we knew him—and it was bad, very bad. Then I came to a part where Santa and his army were preparing to battle his former servant.
“JAKOB!” Man, my mom wouldn’t let up. The almonds had to be delivered.
Reluctantly, I closed the book and plopped it on my desk beside the stack of comics. That’s when something on my desk suddenly made a noise. I whirled around and almost yelped. The book was alive! A silver arm had already grown out from the spine and another arm was sprouting out from the gilded pages. Two skinny, pencil-like legs sprouted from the bottom of the book. And as if things couldn’t get any stranger—the thing did a push-up and stood. Two crystal green eyes blinked as if they’d just awakened. Then they widened, and the large mouth grew into a smile. The eyes suddenly looked mischievous. They were staring at my stack of comics. Then the craziest thing happened. The book rushed over to the stack and started shoveling the comics into its cavernous mouth. What do you do when a book comes to life and begins eating your drawings? Nothing! And that’s just what I did.
After gorging on the comics, the book changed back to normal. No eyes, no mouth, no arms … just a book. I cautiously reached out to touch it when the mouth suddenly appeared again and let out the loudest burp I’ve ever heard. I kid you not, the burp lasted at least twenty seconds. I even heard my mom say, “That’s gross, Jakob!” from downstairs. I decided to leave the book for a moment and find Shig and Logan. I had to tell them what had just happened. I rushed downstairs, snatched up my jacket and had it on by the time I reached the door, which opened courtesy of Mom. With the box of almond packs in hand, I walked outside and was met by a gust of wind.
“AWW! It’s freezing!” I complained.
“Is that jacket going to be enough? You want some gloves and a hat?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Okay, listen, don’t worry about Fleep,” my mom said.
I shot her a worried look.
“What happened to Fleep?”
“Nothing happened to him, silly. He came by when you were—”
“What did he want?” I asked, still worried.
“His almonds. Don’t worry about delivering his package. Mrs. Sanchez couldn’t wait
for them,” she said, laughing.
“Oh,” was all I said, but on the inside I was like, whew! My dreams had me pretty freaked out, plus Tiff’s dream about one of my friends becoming wayward only added to my anxiety.
After delivering some of the almonds, I made my way over to Shig’s. He was out in his front yard wearing one of those oversized blue parkas that come down to the knees and have fluffy fur lining around the hood. He looked like a scientist from Antarctica. I grinned at the sight and gave him his family’s bag of almonds.
“You’re not going to believe what just happened,” I said excitedly.
“What?”
“Logan’s dad gave me a book called The Kringle Chronicles. It’s just like the book in Tiff’s kitchen and the one in The Kringle Shop in Christmas. Well, actually, you don’t know about the shop—”
“Yeah, I do. Logan told me. She said you messed with her and said there was this book in an office, even though there wasn’t.”
“Wrong! There was a book and it’s just like the book in Tiff’s kitchen. Only those books didn’t come to life.”
“What?” Shig scrunched up his face.
I quickly told him about the book coming to life, eating my comics, and even the burp. When I was done, Shig stared at the ground, thinking hard.
“What if it ate the comics so they’d become part of its story?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to look. Did you get my IM about—”
“Fleep not believing? Yeah. I got it. Something is definitely wrong with him. After the brunch, I asked him to come over and help me launch rockets and he said no thanks. Fleep never says no to rockets.”
That’s when I noticed the rockets in the grass. There were three of Shig’s smaller ones, about twelve inches in length. Shig saw me looking at them.
“Just trying to keep busy, Jakob. I hope everything goes as planned tonight. S.R. scares me.”
“We’ll be fine. Just make sure you get some sleep. It’s going to be a long night. As soon as I catch Santa, Fleep will come by to get you.”
Shig rolled his eyes.
“What? He’ll help us, don’t worry,” I insisted.
“I sure hope so,” Shig said, tinkering again with his rockets.
I noticed the palm trees swaying.
“I wouldn’t launch those today. It’s too windy,” I said.
“Leave the rocket trajectory to me. You go hurry up with the almonds,” he teased.
I smiled, jogged over to Logan’s house and rang the doorbell.
“What’s up?” Logan said, opening the door.
I forced a bag of almonds against her stomach.
“Give this to your parents. And we need to talk. Can you meet in front of Shig’s?”
“Five minutes,” Logan said hurriedly then shut the door.
After handing out the almonds in record time (thank you very much), I was standing in Shig’s yard beside Logan. She wore a puffy pink ski jacket and kept blowing in her hands to warm them up. As Shig made the final touches on his next rocket, I told him about our meeting with Baum, describing everything in detail: us changing into clear, icy-looking silhouettes, Logan freaking out in the elevator—which drew laughs even from Logan, and about only me being able to see the giant book and the communication tech room. I explained how J-Rays, frontpacks, the special cup, and the elvish tea work. Then I told Logan about the book her dad had given me.
“The cover is solid silver—”
“Is it one of the ones you’ve been mailing for him?”
“How would I know that? I don’t open the packages. I just mail them, but check it out … my mom couldn’t see the book until I touched it. It’s called The Kringle Chronicles.”
“I want to see it now,” Logan demanded.
“Yeah, me too,” Shig said.
“Later. We need to talk about Fleep. I think he’s made the Wayward List and that means no palace, forever.”
Logan looked at me funny.
“What?” I demanded. “What are you looking at?”
“You! You said no palace.”
“No I didn’t. I said no presents,” I said defensively.
“Oh, yes you did,” Logan snapped back with a chuckle.
I gave Shig a pleading look.
“You did, you said palace,” Shig said nodding. “He’s made the Wayward List and that means no palace.”
I raked my fingers through my hair.“Weird. It’s this strange dream I had about Fleep being banned from this Crystal Palace. I’ve had three really scary dreams since Friday.” I told them about the dreams, which they all agreed were creepy.
“Fleep alert!” Shig said suddenly.
Logan and I spun around as Fleep swaggered toward us and handed me a gaming controller.
Logan, of course, went right for the jugular.
“So you don’t believe anymore, huh?”
Fleep gave me a contemptuous look then turned to Logan.
“You didn’t hear my dad. He flat-out said there’s no Santa.” Fleep rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come over to argue. I’m out of here!” He sauntered off.
We looked at each other concerned. This was strange behavior from a guy who was typically pretty sensitive.
Beep. Beep. A high-pitched horn beeped several times. An old, bright orange convertible MINI Cooper turned right on to our street and pulled up to Fleep. Benji stepped out and said something to him.
“Holy smokes!” I said, shocked beyond all belief.
“What?” Logan asked quickly.
“The last day of school—Friday—that car—Benji was the guy parked in front of the for-sale house, watching Tiff.”
“Well, what in the world is he doing here?” Shig asked.
We ran over to them just as Benji walked back to the MINI, reached in, and got something from the back seat.
“It’s a frontpack, just like the ones Baum gave us,” Logan said curiously.
Benji handed Fleep the frontpack and said, “Wear it to bed tonight.” Fleep nodded, and Benji motioned Logan, Shig and I over to the MINI. He got behind the wheel. We huddled around the window and Benji whispered to us, “Be sure he wears that frontpack. I’m making a special exception by giving him one, because he’ll need the protection.” Just then a voice announced the time over the MINI’s speakers.
“It’s two p.m.”
“I have to go. Lots to prepare for. I’ll see each of you later. Peace,” Benji said, pulling away in his MINI.
I turned back to Fleep. “Hey,” I shouted. “What’s in your frontpack?” Fleep stopped on his driveway.
We jogged over and congregated around him.
“A pair of black sunglasses,” Fleep said pulling his arm out of the pack. They were the exact same glasses Benji had given me at The Teashroom.
“There’s got to be more in there,” Shig said. “It looks full.”
Fleep searched around inside the pack then tossed it over to me. I searched around too but didn’t feel anything—not even a bottom. I struggled to see inside by holding it at different angles—still nothing. As I was about to give up looking, I thought I saw a faint yellow glow. Then suddenly I saw the contents—commando gear: a helmet, elbow and knee pads, gloves, and even boots. I blinked my eyes really hard and looked again, but the stuff was gone. I had to be seeing things. That was the only explanation, or was it? I picked up the pack and gave it to Logan.
“Here, it’s empty—I think. I mean I thought I saw stuff,” I said. Skeptical, Logan took it.
Shig motioned for the sunglasses and tried them on.
“Cool, they cover my eyes like safety glasses,” Shig said then ran off to his front yard. Annoyed, I smacked my thighs. I had hoped Shig would stay and help us talk some sense into Fleep. With Shig there, Fleep wouldn’t feel as if Logan and I were ganging up on him—we assertive-personality types always seemed to do that.
Regardless, it was time to continue Operation: Make Fleep Believe. I spoke urgently. “Fleep, you need to believe. I had a ni
ghtmare with you in it, and there was this palace with a prison and—”
“I don’t care,” Fleep said coldly. “S.R. is real! Maybe if I do something for him, I’ll get what I want—maybe he’ll bring me my skateboard.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
Logan was stone-faced. “You’re joking, right?” she asked. “How can you say that after being attacked by S.R.?”
“I can see him!” Fleep said darkly.
“Seriously, you better take back what you said about Santa and your parents,” Logan said with a pointed finger.
“No, I’m not taking anything back. They’re liars. I hate Santa. I hate him!”
“What are you doing? If you don’t take it back, you’re going to be on the Wayward List for sure,” I said.
“No I’m not, because there is no Wayward List,” Fleep said angrily.
There was an uncomfortable pause; I honestly didn’t know what else we could say to convince him.
Finally I said, “Shig thinks you’re not going to help us tonight.”
“Well, he’s wrong,” Fleep said, less irritable. “You guys are my friends, and I’ll help you … even if it is a complete waste of time.”
A sudden explosion followed by a roaring swoosh stole our attention. Logan and I sprinted to Shig’s yard. It was littered with bits of singed plastic. One of the rockets must have exploded before liftoff. Thankfully Shig looked fine. He was standing, gazing up through the sunglasses. I followed his gaze and quickly found the other rocket’s smoky trail. It climbed for another second or so then arched, deployed its chute, and began its slow descent.
“What happened to the other rocket?” I asked, looking up.
“Exploded about a foot off the ground,” Shig said, annoyed. “AWW, NO! It’s landing on your roof.”
“I told you it was too win—”
“Wow, you have to see this!” Shig shouted as he stared at my roof.
“What is it?” Logan asked. Shig ignored her and turned to me.
“It’s your house. Here, put these on. I’m not saying anything until you look,” Shig said, handing me the sunglasses.
