Jingle Boy (16 page)

“Welcome home, Dad,” I said, wrapping him up in a hug and patting his back a couple of times.

When I pulled back, my father clasped my shoulders as hard as he could with his weakened hands. “Thanks, son,” he said tearfully. “It’s going to be a magical Christmas after all.”

I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

“PAUL NICHOLAS! YOU ARE A WONDER!”

Ms. Reginald, the director of Hope House, hadn’t stopped singing my praises all night. Well, actually, shouting them over the high volume of the stereo that was currently blaring “Jingle Bell Rock.” Not that I could blame her, though. My parents and I, along with a couple dozen employees from the mall, had done a seriously killer job on the annual Hope House Christmas Eve bash.

After Ms. Reginald gave me the hundredth wet, sticky cheek kiss of the evening, I leaned back against the wall of the Hope House rec room and took it all in. Matt and my mom in the center of the ragged carpet, teaching about ten little kids in footsie pajamas how to do the twist. Mall volunteers pouring sodas and fruit punch in the far corner. Marcus handing out cookies and candy. My father sitting at a table with a Hope House volunteer, writing a check for this month’s Hope House electric bill. (My dad had strung the lights with his usual disregard for thrift, and when Ms. Reginald expressed her concern about the whirring electric meter in the basement, he offered to foot the bill.)

Turk, Randy, Sarah, and the rest of the choir from school, along with Mr. McDaniel, were gathered around a huge Christmas tree set up in one corner. I’d roped them into singing carols for the kids and McD had jumped at the chance to practice for a live audience. We had already put on our miniconcert and now they were checking out the wrapped presents that local firefighters and police had collected for the kids. The tree was decorated with ornaments made by the children and the walls were papered with their own crayon drawings of Santa and Rudolph and one rather large Christmas jack-o’-lantern that had Christmas lights drawn all over it. I think that artist was a little confused about the holidays, but still, I kinda liked it.

“Whoo! Those kids have no shortage of energy!” my mother said, fanning her face as she walked off the makeshift dance floor.

“I think everyone’s having fun,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Do you think they’re having fun?”

“I do,” my mother said, her eyes shining. “And I think that volunteering your time here was a great idea, Paul.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “I just wish those cops would quit eyeing me like I’m gonna torch the place.”

My mother followed my gaze to Officer Pie and his partner, Officer Neville, who were munching on cookies across the room. Officially they had come to represent their precinct, but I couldn’t help feeling that they were also here to make sure nothing went awry with the Nicholas kid.

“Well, at least you invited some nice friends and not those hoodlums,” my mother said. “It’s good for them to see that you don’t actually associate with those people.”

I bit my lip and looked at her out of the corner of my eye. “Well . . .”

My mother blanched as, always one for perfect timing, Dirk threw open the doors, walked in followed by Ralph, Rudy, and Flora, took one look around, and said:

“Aw,
man
! You tricked us!” Head twitch.

My mother gave me a look that meant business. “What are
they
doing here?”

“I’m out of here!” Flora said, raising her hands.

“Wait!” I called out, rushing over to them and blocking their exit. Ralph stared me down and Rudy did everything he could to keep from looking at me. His foot tapped like crazy and I knew I had about five seconds before they steamrolled me and made a run for it. Not that I could blame them. I’d promised a night of horror movies and prank phone calls and they’d just walked into their version of hell.

“Don’t go, you guys,” I said, my heart pounding. “Look, I know this isn’t your idea of a good time—”

“Not our idea of a good time?” Dirk blurted out. “Paulie! They’re playing Bing Crosby!”

“He was the devil,” Flora put in, sucking her cheeks. “I mean, have you ever
seen
that
Little Drummer Boy
video with David Bowie? If that doesn’t have subliminal kill-kill-kill messages, I don’t know what does.”

“You guys, give me a chance, okay?” I said. “I’ve thought about what you said in jail that night and you were right. If I hadn’t been so obsessed with Scooby, we probably wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

“Exactly,” Rudy said.

“But do you realize that if we hadn’t gotten caught, you would have burned down the mall?” I said this last part under my breath with a wary glance at the officers by the wall. They were watching us intently.

Flora, Dirk, and Rudy exchanged looks. Ralph, of course, continued to stare me down. I felt a glimmer of hope when I saw Dirk’s eyes waver.

“Sooner or later someone would have pegged you for the crime and you’d all be facing some serious jail time right now if it wasn’t for me. As it is, we’re probably just going to get community service and counseling,” I said. Then I took a deep breath. “Look, I got a record for you guys,” I said. “The least you can do is make it up to me by sticking around and having a piece of cake.”

“Cake?” Ralph said, his eyebrows rising.

We all laughed and the tension was broken. Dirk and I gazed at each other. For the first time I felt like we had a mutual understanding and respect.

“Okay, okay!” Dirk said after a long pause. “You’re right, Nicholas. You didn’t sign on for prison time when you came to us. And we did keep our plans a secret from you.”

“Yeah, and we should have thought more about the whole burning down the mall thing,” Rudy put in. “I mean, I would have been out of a job!”

I wanted to ask him what he was talking about, but I bit my tongue. I couldn’t believe that Radio Shack hadn’t fired him after his arrest. But then, there was no telling with those AV guys. Maybe they thought he was even cooler now.

“So where’s the cake?” Ralph asked.

Flora rolled her eyes and hooked her arm through Ralph’s. “Come on, Doughboy,” she said. “Let’s get you sugared up.”

She tugged him toward the snack table and Rudy followed, his head bobbing as the music switched over to Christina Aguilera’s Christmas album.

“So . . . ,” I said, once Dirk and I were left alone. “Friends?”

His head twitched and then he smirked. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Friends.”

Dirk turned around and joined the party and I felt another stone lift off my shoulders. Everything was slowly falling into place, one problem at a time. As I watched Ms. Reginald dangle mistletoe over the kids by the tree, getting them to kiss each other’s cheeks, I saw Sarah break away from the rest of the choir and start across the room toward me, carrying a red gift bag. My pulse skipped ahead with nervous curiosity. We hadn’t spoken since the morning I’d gone ballistic on her in choir. Lately I was feeling a bit embarrassed about that, even if she did deserve it.

“Hi, Paul,” she said, averting her eyes as she spoke. She was wearing the same red sweater she’d worn the morning I met her, and her hair was pulled back from her perfect face.

“Hey,” I said.

“This party is . . . it’s really great,” she said. She stood next to me and looked out at the room as well, probably to avoid making eye contact.

“Yeah. I’m glad Mr. McDaniel agreed to bring the choir,” I said.

“Look,” she blurted out suddenly, her face flushing pink as she stared down at the bag in her hands. “I wanted to tell you I broke up with Scooby. And I wanted you to know I had no idea what he was doing.” She looked up again. “He told me he made all his money off CD sales. How stupid am I?”

I smiled and didn’t refute her claim.

“Anyway, I returned all the presents he bought me,” she said, glancing in my direction. “It wasn’t right to keep them . . . you know . . . with the way they were bought.”

“You returned them?” I asked, surprised. I really looked at her for the first time and saw that her face was full of unabashed hope and honesty. Suddenly I felt warm all over.

“Yeah,” she said. “I mean . . . I thought about what you said to me that morning and—”

“I’m really sorry about that,” I put in quickly.

“Well, even though I didn’t like the way you said it, I realized you were right,” Sarah added. She watched the kids as they gathered around the tree at Ms. Reginald’s feet. The director started to hand out gifts and as each child received a package, the room seemed to become a little bit lighter with joy. “These kids needed that money more than I needed more stuff.”

“Wow,” I said, impressed. “That’s great, Sarah.”

“Well, anyway, I wanted to give this back, too,” she said, handing me the gift bag.

Surprised, I looked inside and saw my favorite red wool sweater folded neatly between two sheets of white tissue.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. Then she looked up at me tentatively, stood on her toes, and gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek. I waited for the excited tingling sensation to rush over me as it always had when she kissed me, but I felt nothing. Nada. Zilch, zero, zip. Compared to the way kissing Holly felt in my daydreams, Sarah’s lips had no effect.

I was officially over her.

Sarah smiled at me sadly and rejoined her friends by the drink table. But I didn’t even have time to revel in the sweet irony of the moment. The second Sarah was gone, Officer Pie walked over to me, his notepad out. My heart caught in my throat. What now?

“Paul Nicholas?” he said in a serious voice of doom. My mother and father were at my sides in a flash.

“Yes, Officer?” I said, my throat completely dry.

“I just wanted to let you know that we’re dropping all charges against you,” Officer Pie said, clearly trying to hold back a smile. “A certain Dirk Evergreen—”

Wait,
Evergreen
?

“—has amended his statement and now claims that you had no knowledge of the arson plot,” Pie continued. “And your other friends . . . ah . . .
witnesses
have confirmed his statement.”

I glanced at Dirk, Ralph, Rudy, and Flora, all of whom had paused by the door on their way out, and smiled my thanks. I felt like Charlie Brown after all his friends come and decorate that pathetic little Christmas tree of his. I was so moved that I didn’t even call them on the fact that their pockets were obviously stuffed with cookies and cake. They deserved a little Christmas cheer, too.

“Later, Paulie,”
Dirk mouthed.

And then the Anti-Christmas Underground walked out of my life forever.

“Just try to stay out of trouble from now on, okay, son?” Officer Pie said, snapping his notebook closed as my mother hugged me from behind.

“I will, Officer,” I said, watching the empty doorway. “I definitely will.”

My eyes opened slowly at first, lazily, blinking back the sweet dreams that filled my groggy head. In the darkness my eyes found the clock. It was 4:32 A.M. Christmas Day. I pulled the covers more tightly up to my chin. The windowpanes were lined with frost; the air coming through the tiny crack I’d left open was crisp and fresh. I could feel the excitement rush from my toes all the way to my fingertips. It was Christmas. It had come after all.

Normally I would lie in my bed wide awake, counting the seconds until it was time to throw the Muppets Christmas CD on my stereo and crank it up to wake my parents. But this wasn’t a normal Christmas and I couldn’t wait a second longer to welcome it. I threw aside my covers and ran downstairs, not even trying to stay quiet.

I came around the corner and slid into the living room, where the tree was fully lit up. There weren’t many packages this year, but I wasn’t expecting many. I knew my parents were strapped for cash and I wasn’t sure if Santa would be stopping by this year, after everything I’d done. I fell on my knees and searched for my name on box after box. Finally, practically trembling with anticipation, I found one—a small one—with my name written on it in big block letters.

Holding my breath, I slid the top off the red-and-white-striped box, and I think I almost fainted. There, sitting on a bed of white cotton, was a single silver key with a black rubber knob. And across the knob in silver letters was written one beautiful word:

Jeep.

I dropped the box and ran outside, my bare feet slipping in the new blanket of snow. Sitting in my driveway was a pristine red Jeep Cherokee, definitely a previously owned model, but mine nonetheless. I walked over to it, placed my hands on the side window, and peered through the glass. Black leather interior, floor mats only slightly worn, pine-scented fir tree dangling from the rearview mirror.

My parents were the greatest.

I turned and walked slowly into the house to put the key back in its box so that I could open it all over again when my parents woke up. Maybe I would just let them sleep this year. They’d been through enough. And I could wait till . . . oh . . . six o’clock or so.

I smiled as I closed the door behind me. But even though I’d gotten the Jeep I’d been hoping for and even though the house was back to normal and my parents were happy and safe upstairs, I still felt like Christmas was not going to be complete.

There would be no grudging noontime call from Holly to find out what I’d gotten. There would be no day-after-Christmas get-together with her to have a noncelebratory pizza. There would be no looking into Holly’s mocking eyes as she teased me over my post-Christmas rundown.

I knelt down under the tree and replaced the key with a sigh. I was just thinking about dragging myself back to bed when I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof. I stood up, my heart pounding, and suddenly Santa fell from the chimney into my fireplace, kicking up a cloud of soot.

“Santa!” I whispered.

He pulled himself up and dusted himself off, then dragged his sack out behind him. “Merry Christmas, Paul,” he said with a wink. “Thought I’d save the best house for last!”

“Wow,” I said, staggering back a few feet from the tree as he started to unpack his gifts. “I . . . I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

“Oh, Paul, you knew I’d be here,” Santa said as he placed a sizable box under the tree. He stood up and patted his hands against his legs, then looked down at his cracked, dirty boots. “Too bad you didn’t get to see me at the start of the night, though. Mama had those boots gleaming.”