Catching Santa

by Marc Franco

  I slid the glasses on and looked up at my roof. Glimmering under the sunlight was a large red X the size of a car.

  “Do you see it?” Shig asked eagerly.

  “Yeah,” I said, but my expression said something more like, Duh, how could I miss it?

  “See what? Someone answer me!” Logan was perturbed. She reached for my face, for the glasses, but I jerked back just in time.

  “Wait a minute.” I glanced around at the neighborhood rooftops, all of which were marked with red Xs. I gasped when I got to Fleep’s. His roof was missing the X, and so was Tiff’s. I handed Logan the glasses. “Look for yourself,” I said. She fumbled with the glasses for a second, then forced them over her eyes and looked around.

  “Xs, red ones—on the roofs—all of the roofs. Well, all of the roofs except for—”

  “Fleep and Tiff,” I said darkly. Fleep shrugged and crossed his arms.

  Logan offered the glasses to Fleep, but he refused with a shake of his head. After Logan dropped the sunglasses in the frontpack, I handed it back to Fleep.

  “Fleep, those Xs are there to tell S.R. to pass over a house. I read about it in a book Logan’s dad gave me. See, S.R. and Santa used to work together, S.R. was actually his servant. Santa would leave presents for the good kids and S.R., well, he would leave a lump of coal for the wayward kids. But as time went on and things got busier, Santa and S.R. split up. It made it easier for Santa to visit the good kids and S.R. to visit the wayward. But then something really bad started to happen. Wayward kids started disappearing on Christmas day. Things didn’t look good for S.R. when black dust and pieces of coal were found in homes of the missing kids. So Santa set a trap and caught S.R. turning a boy into coal. There was this huge battle with dwarves and elves, tall men, and even giants and dragons. Oh, and there were five great beings called elements.” I stopped.

  “Why did you stop?” Shig asked.

  “I had to stop reading to deliver the almonds.” I turned to Fleep. “My point is, you have to believe in Santa! S.R. might—”

  “No more stupid fairy tales,” Fleep said.

  “Why can’t you just believe in Santa?” I asked.

  “Easy, because he’s not real,” Fleep said smugly.

  It was pointless to argue with Fleep. I could only hope that he’d take measures to protect himself. “Come on, Fleep. You’re in danger. You’re wayward. At least do what Benji said and wear the frontpack tonight. Please.”

  “Fine,” Fleep snapped. As I watched my friend saunter off toward his house, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gloom. Would my dreams come true too, like Tiff’s had? No, I assured myself, everything will turn out just fine. I’ll catch Santa and prove once and for all to Fleep that Santa is real.

  Then Shig flipped out on me. “Guys, this is bad. We can’t do this alone. Fleep needs protection!” He looked over at his house, where Mr. Sugihara was cleaning out his police car. Then Shig took off, mumbling, “We need help.”

  I didn’t like the look of this one bit. I raced after him and caught up just as he was telling his dad about the red Xs.

  “You really see a red X on our roof?” Mr. Sugihara asked.

  Oh boy, this was bad. I stepped in front of Shig with my back to his dad. I widened my eyes at my friend, hoping he’d get the message to shut up. He brushed me aside.

  “It’s a shiny red X, but Fleep doesn’t have one. S.R.’s coming for the wayward—for Fleep. You’re the police. You have to stop him!” Shig’s eyes were glossy with held-back tears. Oh man, I had to shut up Shig before he put all of our parents in danger.

  I started laughing. “Awesome, Shig; you got him. Okay man, I owe you five bucks.” Still with my back to Mr. Sugihara, I whispered, “Are you insane? Remember S.R. said no parents.”

  I turned around, smiling. Mr. Sugihara’s stare burned through me.

  “What are you two up to?” he asked.

  “Nothing—I mean—you know—a dare.” In my opinion, convincing police officers of anything is one of the hardest things to do … but especially if you are trying to convince them of a lie. They are so suspicious and serious. But I must have been Hollywood-worthy because, in the end, Mr. Sugihara dismissed us with a curt warning to stop fooling around.

  I led Shig away and leaned in to support him. He was crying under his breath, trying to conceal it. I snuck a glance over my shoulder at his dad. He was watching us. “You need to cowboy up,” I whispered.

  Logan was sitting on her driveway with her head buried in her hands. Shig wiped his eyes as we sat down. Logan looked up teary-eyed. My friends looked terrible, and I felt really bad. I wanted to say something that would make them feel better but I wasn’t sure what to say. The situation stunk. Now the stakes were raised. Not only were we catching Santa to rescue Tiff’s family, we also were saving Fleep. I heard my name being called in the distance. It was my mom, calling me home.

  “Guys, I have to go. Don’t forget. We all have a part in this. Cowboy up! Just think, we’ll catch Santa tonight, and by tomorrow morning Fleep will believe, Rick will be back, the book in Tiff’s house will be sealed, and S.R. will probably be on his way to swap places with all of the imprisoned kids. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get a replacement phone for the one I kicked in the pool.”

  Logan managed a laughing snort through all of the tears. “Did you ask for a phone?”

  “No.”

  “Then I doubt it.”

  “You never know,” I said, walking off. “He’s Santa.”

  I threw off the covers and tried to remember if I’d put my jacket and shoes in the fort under the stairs with the frontpacks. It was ten p.m. on Christmas Eve, and I had to do one more thing before going to sleep: sneak downstairs and swap out the cup of eggnog my sisters left for Santa with the elvish cup Baum gave me. I rolled out of bed, stealthily left my room, and crept downstairs to the fort.

  I opened my frontpack and took out the elvish cup and tea. Then I silently snuck over to the dining room table for the switch. Grabbing the cup of eggnog, I quickly walked to the kitchen then poured water into Baum’s elvish cup. I thought I heard someone walking around upstairs. Because I was in a serious hurry and nervously swapping glances between the stairs and the cup, I accidentally poured all of the tea leaves into the water. They dissolved instantly. I gasped, remembering that Baum had said to use only seven pinches of tea. From what I could tell, there were probably about twenty-eight pinches of tea originally, so I figured pouring out three-quarters of the liquid would fix it. I was certain that would balance things out. I left the elvish cup on the table where I thought Fleep could see it, and was back in my room within minutes, laying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. This was it, we were about to catch Santa. And, with that, I prayed and fell asleep.

  A loud thump woke me, not my iPod as I’d expected. Was it Santa? I had to check. My mind raced to my parents—if the noise was loud enough to wake me, they probably heard it too. I threw off my covers, sprinted to the light switch, and flipped it on. Then if my parents were awake, they would think I had made the noise. Sure enough, my dad was walking down the hallway to check out downstairs. He stopped at my door.

  “Sorry,” I whispered sheepishly.

  “You okay? Sounded like you fell out of bed.”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, then go back to sleep, or Santa’s not coming.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  He turned off my light and left. Success! I had to get downstairs. I grabbed my iPod Touch and switched it to vibrate to avoid any more noise. I waited about ten minutes or so, just to be sure my dad had settled back into bed, then snuck downstairs … all the time worrying. Who had made the noise? If it was Santa, why hadn’t Fleep called? Halfway down, my iPod vibrated. It was Fleep calling me via Skype. Finally, I thought.

  “Hold on,” I answered in a whisper then turned at the second flight of steps that led to the living room. I froze, awestruck by what I saw beside my Christmas tree, beginning with the bla
ck boots. I stepped as quietly as I could down the rest of the stairs and stared at the amazingly large figure. Who in the world was lying beside my tree? A large man had fallen flat on his back onto a perfect row of crushed presents. The presents had softened the fall and prevented his head from hitting the floor. I cringed at the thought until I noticed he was wearing a ballistic military helmet.

  I stared at the unconscious body for a minute and wondered who the person was—in my house, my living room. He was supposed to be Santa but didn’t look anything like what I had expected. Sure, he wore red … but his coat wasn’t a coat at all. It was a military-style flak jacket in crimson, gray, and black camouflage, with shoulder and chest armor. I noticed a nameplate on his chest and leaned in closer. It read Santa. Incredible!

  Suddenly the secret website, Baum, and the Crystal Palace all made sense. Santa was a soldier of some type. From his helmet down to his boots, this guy was tough.

  Around his camouflage pants were two black belts—one worn just above the other—joined by a large, silver buckle. I noticed something peculiar about the belt buckle: it was actually two elaborate buckles, one fitted over the other. The top buckle was shaped like a polar bear’s head and had flashing red gemstone eyes. I’d seen the same exact polar bear on the back of Baum’s shirt. The initials S.C. were engraved in cursive over the bear’s head; they had to stand for Santa Claus. I didn’t like looking at the other buckle. It was shaped like a creepy-looking goat’s skull. The creature’s horns bridged a gap between the two buckles and connected to the polar bear. This belt had the initials S.R. engraved on it, but there was an X etched over the letters, as if someone had purposely crossed them out. It was weird—I can’t explain it, but I didn’t want to give the goat buckle anymore thought. I gave the giant man another look. I’d caught Santa! I started a silent victory dance.

  A subtle tap on the glass of the front door startled me. It was Fleep, with his nose pressed against the glass, fogging it up with every breath. Something on Fleep’s head caught my eye. It was snow. No way, I thought. His hair was covered in snow! I ran to the door.

  Fleep mouthed, “Hurry up,” then looked over his shoulder again. Once the door was unlocked, he rushed inside and brushed the snow from his blond, wet hair.

  “I can’t believe it’s snowing,” I whispered as I poked my head outside.

  I gave Fleep a once-over and noticed that he was wearing his frontpack the wrong way. He had it on as a backpack.

  “You need to put that on the right way,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, yeah. Later. Hurry up. Close the door.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I wasn’t alone in the house—”

  “Yeah, Tiff was with you, right?”

  “No, I mean yeah, but—”

  “But what? Where’s Tiff?”

  Fleep swallowed. “I don’t know. One minute she’s there and then the next thing I know she’s trying to get me to leave. She kept saying ‘He’s here! He’s here!’ and I kept saying no he wasn’t, that the cup at your house hadn’t moved. Then she said ‘not Santa’ and that it was ‘too late.’ She took off running and mumbling something about the servant. And like I said, we weren’t alone. Benji and some tall guy in a black cloak were there too.”

  I gasped. “A guy in a black cloak! Has to be S.R.” Like from my dream. Tiff must have run off when she saw S.R.

  “I don’t know, but Benji was upset that Baum hadn’t warned you about the consequences of using too much of the elvish stuff.” I ran over to the special cup. It was empty. I glanced down at Santa then whirled around.

  “Fleeeeep …” I whispered long and drawn out. “What’s supposed to happen if I used a lot of the elvish stuff?”

  “I don’t know. That’s when the guy in the black cloak came up from behind Benji and knocked him out. And I took off!”

  I was worried for Benji. I thought for a moment then looked at Fleep. “Listen to me. You need to believe in Santa,” I said, nodding gravely.

  Fleep looked at me like I was crazy.

  “Look, over by the tree. Seeing is believing, Fleep, and you really need to believe.”

  Fleep looked over my shoulder at the Christmas tree. There was a moment of silence, I assumed from the shock of seeing Santa.

  “Uh, yeah, I don’t see anything,” Fleep said coolly.

  “Not possible.” I could see Santa as clear as day. Wait a minute. It’s probably like what happened to my mom with the book Mr. Raffo gave me. I walked over to Santa, knelt down and touched his boot.

  “How about now, can you see him?” I asked, a little frustrated that I hadn’t heard a wow or no way from Fleep.

  “Now I can. I had to move over to the right. The columns were blocking my view.”

  Impossible. Santa was way too large. It was that invisible thing again—I had to touch him for others to see.

  “Well come over and look at him.”

  Fleep was thinking.

  “What’s wrong now?” I whispered.

  “Nothing,” he snapped, “it’s just that he doesn’t look anything like Santa. It’s probably your dad in a military costume.”

  “He’s definitely not my dad,” I said confidently.

  “Have you checked?”

  “I don’t have to check. He’s not this tall,” I said in disbelief. “You know that.”

  Fleep waved me off dismissively. He still didn’t believe. “Whatever. I’ll go get the rest of the gang.”

  “Wait,” I said in a forced whisper, but I was too late. Fleep was out the door. I didn’t like the idea of him being outside on his own, especially with S.R. lurking around.

  I gave Santa a curious look and wondered what his face looked like under the helmet. I have to admit, I thought about peeking once or twice while I waited for Fleep to return. In the meantime, I took in the totality of Santa’s size. He was a big man and tall—really tall. I needed perspective, so I decided to lie next to him. Wow, he easily was twice the length of me.

  “Is he dead?” The small whisper scared me half to death.

  I grabbed my chest, gasping, then looked up. Staring down at me was Koji, Shig’s little brother! I got up quickly and glanced at the open front door.

  “No, he’s not dead,” I exhaled. “What are you—?”

  “I ran ahead.”

  Ahead? Ahead of whom? It didn’t matter. I shook my head.

  “Well, go home and go back to bed.” I waved my hand over his head like a Jedi. “You are dreaming … I am not here … you are not here … you have to go home …” I whispered with authority.

  Koji smacked my hand. “If I’m not here, then why do I have to go home?”

  I pressed my lips. Smart kid.

  “Besides, Jedi mind tricks don’t work on me.”

  I quickly grabbed Koji by the arm as he brushed past me on his way to Santa. Oh, no you don’t, I thought as I pulled him back.

  He leaned forward, captivated at the sight. “His jacket says Santa. Is that really him?”

  “Yeah, it’s him.”

  “But he looks like a soldier.”

  “He looks like a soldier?” Logan whispered from the door as she quietly walked in with Shig and Fleep. I was secretly relieved to see Fleep back safely.

  I launched into Shig as soon as he came inside. “What is he doing here?” I asked, slightly raising my voice and pointing to Koji.

  “He woke up when we were leaving and said if I didn’t bring him, he’d tell,” Shig said.

  I sighed. Nothing like blackmail from a ruthless six-year-old. “Fine, whatever. Just keep him quiet.”

  “You did it! You really caught him,” Logan said, barely suppressing her excitement.

  “Unbelievable! He doesn’t look anything like I expected. He doesn’t even look like a regular soldier. He looks like—” Shig couldn’t place Santa’s look.

  “A commando? Special Forces?” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” he answered, still lost in thought.

  “Di
d you look under his helmet?” Logan asked.

  “No, I was waiting for you guys,” I said.

  “Well, we’re here, so let’s see.” Logan’s whisper was filled with anticipation.

  I nodded and bent down to reach for Santa’s helmet just as we heard a loud thump from above. Someone was up—walking—coming down the stairs!

  We panicked. I looked at the front door, but we wouldn’t all get out in time. There was nowhere to hide except behind the Christmas tree. I squeezed in, sandwiched between Logan and Shig, and hoped whoever it was wouldn’t see us.

  “I see you guys.” Dang! It was my little sister, Jordan. In chorus, we sighed and grumbled as, one by one, we came out from behind the tree. I rolled my eyes when I saw Jordan watching us from the stairs. What was with all the little kids playing detective—tonight of all nights?

  She settled her suspicious gaze on Santa’s huge, sleeping body then jerked as she read the nameplate on the jacket. “Santa!”

  She looked at me, teary-eyed. Uh-oh, I knew that look. I charged at Jordan, hoping I’d be able to get a hand over her mouth, but didn’t make it in time. She let out the loudest, bloodcurdling girl-scream I’ve ever heard her make. There was absolutely no way my parents were sleeping through that scream.

  “You killed him! You killed Santa!” Jordan shrieked, then turned and ran up the stairs.

  “No, Jordan! Stop!” I whispered as loud as I could, but it was no use. She was already up the second flight of stairs. I heard footsteps coming from my parents’ room. “Get him in the fort,” I ordered my friends in a forced whisper then snuck up the stairs. Before I got to the top, I heard my dad telling my mom that he’d handle it as he went into Jordan’s room.

  “What’s wrong, honey?”

  No answer. Jordan was crying.

  He asked again. “Jordan, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  “They killed Santa.” Her voice faltered.

  Oh, this was bad—really bad. I snuck back downstairs. Logan was struggling with one of Santa’s legs.

  “You guys need to hurry up,” I chided.