Catching Santa Read online

  Pants On Fire Press, Winter Garden 34787

  Text copyright © 2011 by Marc Franco

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form by any means without written permission from the publisher, Pants On Fire Press.

  All names, places, incidents, and characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Illustrations and art copyright © 2011 by Pants On Fire Press

  Cover art by Aurora Pagano

  Interior illustrations by Drew Swift

  Author photo: Katie Meehan

  Book design by Jill Ronsley

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file.

  Visit us at www.PantsOnFirePress.com

  ISBN: 978-0-9827271-0-2

  Hardcover ISBN: 978-0-9827271-5-7

  For my three Js and the K who gave them to me.

  Chapter 1 - I Get Drawn In

  Chapter 2 - Logan Reads the Ten Christmas Rules

  Chapter 3 - Logan Spams Santa

  Chapter 4 - Snowmen Ring Doorbells

  Chapter 5 - Logan Translates S.R.’s E-mail

  Chapter 6 - An Old Friend Calls Rick

  Chapter 7 - Rick Starts Smoking

  Chapter 8 - We Learn Why Smoke Is Bad For You

  Chapter 9 - Tiff Almost Loses Her Head to a Sharp Tongue

  Chapter 10 - Tiff Spills Some of the Beans

  Chapter 11 - Logan and I Are Attacked by Vampire Owls

  Chapter 12 - I Watch a Boy Turn to Wood

  Chapter 13 - I Meet an Elf Spy

  Chapter 14 - I Think Fleep Makes the Wayward List

  Chapter 15 - We Go to Christmas and Pet a Polar Bear

  Chapter 16 - We Are Crystal Clear on the Forty-Fourth Floor

  Chapter 17 - Mr. Raffo’s Gift Eats My Comics

  Chapter 18 - X Doesn’t Mark the Spot

  Chapter 19 - I Catch a Commando

  Chapter 20 - We Almost Get Busted

  Chapter 21 - We Read as My Book Writes

  Chapter 22 - Reindeer Assault Our Fort

  Chapter 23 - S.R. Gets His Goat

  Chapter 24 - A Dragon Forces Us Out of Time

  Chapter 25 - We Grow Up

  About the Author

  My index finger twitched uncontrollably. That’s how it always starts and it was starting again. I looked up at the classroom clock. It was twenty minutes before dismissal. No, this isn’t happening. Not after the day I’ve had. I tried to control my right hand, but it was no use. My pencil, captured by my hand like prey, was already rapidly sketching a comic of two commandos in armored battle suits. The scene took half the page. The commandos were crouched behind trees, dodging sharp icicles falling from the sky and return blasting a twirl of green-and-white energy from machines attached to their arms. It was the same battle scene I’d drawn last week. Now that the scene was sketched, my mind was being drawn in again—like the times before—into my comic, into the battle. Suddenly my head felt like it was being sucked through a vacuum. Then—just like that—the feeling was gone, but so was my classroom.

  I was wearing commando gear, crouched between shrubs and looking through goggles at my familiar Florida neighborhood—but it was covered in snow. Suddenly there was a vicious shriek from above. Instinctively I glanced up, but a volley of deadly-sharp icicles forced me to run to cover. Snow, dirt and shrubs kicked up around me. There were more shrieks, this time much closer. I looked up again and was finally able to see what was threatening me from above. My first thought was snowmen gone mad. That was until I saw that they actually had icy, spiked skeleton heads; long, ice-skeleton bodies; and frozen-liquid wings. One thing was certain: they wanted to hurt me. Faces frozen in fury, hundreds of the figures swooped in from all directions. My only hope was to find cover. Suddenly a yellow light erupted from out of nowhere, and the sky was washed clean of the attacking ice skeletons. I sighed, but my relief was short-lived. Thick fog hung in the air, no doubt residual from whatever had evaporated the ice creatures. A terrible roar echoed from my right. I couldn’t see anything but fog, when suddenly a flaming fireball whirled out of the darkness, straight at me. Just as I stood frozen in fear, a dark figure, wearing military armor with the nameplate DASHER, burst from the fog and threw me to the ground, rescuing me from the fireball’s trajectory with barely a second to spare.

  KA-BOOM!

  “No!” I shouted and sat bolt upright in my desk, grabbing at the comics. I felt like I’d just awakened from a dream. Heart racing and head throbbing, I glanced around the classroom. Everyone was looking at me and, to make matters worse, my sixth-grade, gifted-class teacher, Mr. Swimdo, was walking toward me.

  Suddenly a voice whispered in my ear from behind. “You were automatic drawing again.” It was Logan, one of my ex-best friends.

  “Don’t talk to me. I’m mad at you,” I hissed.

  “Whatever. Just grab them, before he does,” Logan said, reaching over my shoulder for the comics I’d just drawn. Too late. Rick Lang, jerk extraordinaire, grabbed them before Logan or I could.

  “Look everyone. More crazy Santa comic drawings.” Rick jeered as he studied the drawings.

  “Shut up, Rick,” I seethed, fist clenched. I wanted to feed it to him.

  “That’s enough,” Mr. Swimdo said, taking my comics from Rick. He quickly paged through them, then dropped the papers on my desk. I studied the comics. Two pages of pencil-sketched images—everything I’d just experienced. But why was Rick calling it Santa stuff? My comics didn’t have anything to do with Christmas. They actually looked more like something from Halo or Star Wars. Weird, but that’s Rick for you.

  “You’re such a jerk. Wasn’t what you did to him at recess enough?” I heard Logan say.

  “Whatever. It’s just a joke,” Rick muttered dismissively.

  “Jakob, gather your stuff.” Mr. Swimdo ordered.

  What? Dismissal wasn’t for another ten minutes. Was I in trouble? Nervously and in record time, I packed up and stood as Mr. Swimdo motioned me to the door. That’s when it hit me. He knew what happened to me at recess. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have to. Letting me go early and sending me off with a wink was telltale enough. It was a little unsettling that Mr. Swimdo knew, because that meant all the other teachers probably knew also. Wonderful.

  Even so, I welcomed the head start he gave me. It settled my nerves a bit because I’d avoid all of the peering eyes, pointing fingers, and whispering voices as I walked across school to the bus.

  I got to my bus without any problems and climbed aboard just as the dismissal bell rang. Grateful for the privacy, I walked down the aisle and sank into my usual seat, three rows from the back and on the right side. Christmas music was playing on the radio.

  Boy was it hot. I noticed the windows were open. Great, I thought, no A/C. Just because it was winter didn’t mean it wasn’t hot. It was Florida, for crying out loud. A song caught my attention. A man was singing “Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!” Yes, I thought, let it. All in rapid succession, I clasped my hands together, closed my eyes, and prayed. “Dear God, please let it snow!” Yeah I know, wishful thinking, but maybe God was listening and feeling really generous today.

  Suddenly hooting and hollering kids poured from their classrooms to welcome the end of a very special Friday and the beginning of the weekend. But it wasn’t just any weekend. It was Christmas break.

  I wanted to partake in the celebration but was still mad—obsessing on my twentieth replay of what had happened to me at recess—when the bus moved ever so slightly. I looked up over the green vinyl seatback in front of me and saw a stream of kids boarding the bus. I stared out the window to ignore th
em all, then felt a tap on my shoulder. It was my eight-year-old sisters, Jordan and Jadyn. I didn’t look anything like them because I was adopted. They, on the other hand, were identical twins down to the same number of freckles. But I could tell them apart—even with their perfectly braided brown hair and matching garb—by their voice. The difference was subtle, but enough for me to distinguish the two. That’s why they didn’t speak to me unless they really had to. It was some sick game they played.

  “What?” I demanded, shrugging.

  They didn’t say anything, just pointed to the front of the bus. I looked. Ugh, it was my three best friends, although at the time I was so mad at them, I no longer considered them friends.

  They walked, Shigeru Sugihara in the lead and heading right to me. He was really tall—definitely the tallest sixth grader at College Park Elementary. Shoot, he was already wearing size 10 adult sneakers. He went by “Shig”for short. Below his bowl-cut, straight black hair was a gentle face with a fair complexion, flat nose, and large lips that almost always smiled. He plopped down beside me but didn’t say anything.

  Logan Raffo was next, staring at me intensely with her dark, demanding, almond-shaped eyes as she forced an apologetic smile. She had black hair also, but hers hung long and silky over her tan complexion. She sat in the seat in front of me and slid over to the window.

  Fleep Sanchez slid in next to her. His real name was Felipe, but he went by “Fleep”—something about his brother not being able to pronounce “Felipe” when he was little. His curly, long locks of blond hair swung from side to side as he walked. He had caterpillar-sized eyebrows, large brown eyes that seemed too big for their sockets, and thin, freckly cheeks. He was tall like me, but still not as tall as Shig. We were all eleven years old. I’d be the first to turn twelve though, just after the new year.

  Shig tried to get me to talk, and Logan begged to read the comics I’d drawn in class, but I ignored them and just kept looking out the window. Then he got on the bus, the little pipsqueak Rick Lang, with one of his loser friends. His ferret eyes glanced around. I couldn’t understand why kids would let him bully them. He was so short and skinny, and his shoulder-length hair made him look like goldilocks in skater clothes. Heck, I’d eaten cotton candy that was more intimidating.

  Our eyes locked.

  “I’ll just sit up here in the front,” Rick said, looking around and trying to act cool.

  The ride home was pretty annoying because my friends kept trying to get me to talk. I guess that’s what friends do, but I just ignored them and stared out the window. The bus finally stopped and we all got off at the same place, the entrance to our subdivision. Yep, we were neighbors and friends … and most of the time it was cool, but not today. Today it was just plain irritating!

  Rick and his bud were the first to exit and took off running like a pair of rats. I won’t lie; I thought about chasing them, but Rick wasn’t worth it. Besides, I still had my ex-friends to deal with. I stormed past Shig and made sure to distance myself from my bratty sisters and ex-friends, hoping they’d all get the message that I was really mad at them.

  As I came up to my street, I spotted something odd over at Rick’s house. Rick’s older sister, Tiff, was out front. That in itself was odd because she was in middle school and wasn’t supposed to be home for another forty-five minutes. Still watching Tiff, I walked across the street to my yard. She was looking through a pair of binoculars at Logan’s roof, then Fleep’s, then Shig’s, and finally mine. That’s when she saw me. I must have startled her because she immediately hid the binoculars by her side and waved distractedly. I waved back and walked to my front door, wondering what that was all about. I reached for the door handle but my curiosity won out. I had to know what was up with her strange behavior. Heart rate rising, I went into commando mode and stepped into the shrubs to watch whatever this was. Tiff was still at it with the binoculars, but now looking at an orange MINI Cooper parked in front of the house across the street from mine. The house was for sale and happened to be one of my mom’s real estate listings. The tint on the MINI Cooper was dark, but not dark enough to conceal the silhouette of a man inside, peering back at her through his own binoculars. He was watching Tiff, and she was watching him. Weird.

  Suddenly the MINI Cooper started and Tiff took off, running inside her house. When she came back, about a half-minute later, the MINI Cooper was gone. Whoever it was sure was in a hurry. It was all kind of strange but a bit boring. Just then I heard my little sisters walking up from the driveway. Awesome, I thought. Still hidden in the bushes, I waited eagerly then jumped out just as they passed by.

  “BAAAH!” I shouted.

  They screamed, and I laughed and chased them inside our house.

  “MOMMY!” The twins wailed.

  “In the kitchen,” my mom announced. We raced to the kitchen. I won, of course.

  “Jakob scared us,” Jadyn whined.

  “Yeah,” Jordan gasped. “He was in the bushes.” My mom kissed them.

  “Okay, go do your homework. And Jakob, don’t scare your sisters.”

  I nodded and gave my mom a hug, then sighed.

  She held me back at arm’s length and studied me. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Don’t let any of the three in,” I said in a huff.

  “The three?” she asked, releasing me.

  “Logan, Fleep, or Shig.”

  She raised an eyebrow and stared at me as I grabbed my bulging backpack and ran upstairs to my room. I’d been messing around on my computer for about thirty minutes when the doorbell rang. Pretty confident it was one of the three, I didn’t get up.

  “It’s Rick’s sister, Tiff,” my mom called up.

  Hmm. What in the world does she want? She never comes over, I thought. I could hear my mom telling Tiff I was upstairs in my room. Tiff was thirteen and, even though she was in middle school, spent a lot of time with Logan because there weren’t any kids her age in the neighborhood. I logged into Pandora Radio on the Internet and selected something Christmassy, then leaned back in my chair just as Tiff walked into my room.

  “Hey,” she said, waving her hand. Her red hair was pulled back into her usual ponytail, and stood out against her pale skin and green eyes.

  “Hey,” I said, waving back. “Done with your binoculars?”

  “What?” Tiff answered like I’d accused her of a crime then quickly recovered her cool. “Oh, yeah, birds. I was watching a pair of cardinals. They just had a baby bird.”

  Birds, I thought, staring into her secretive eyes. You weren’t watching birds. You lie like a fly, just like your brother. Tiff interrupted my thoughts.

  “I heard what happened—Logan told me.”

  Logan and her big mouth.

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. You know, about my brother and all. It was wrong, and I’ll make sure my parents hear about it.”

  “Don’t bother. It’s not your fault he’s a jerk.” There was an awkward pause as she studied some of my drawn comics hanging on the wall. They were head shots of armored commandos in a wintery scene.

  “Hey, at least you didn’t curse yourself, right?” Tiff remarked in an exaggerated, yet relieved, way.

  I cocked my head. “Curse?”

  “What curse?” I asked suspiciously.

  “You know, it’s what happens when you publicly say that you don’t believe in Santa.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Oh, there’s an entire chapter written about it in my dad’s old German Christmas book. It’s been in my—”

  “I know about your book. Logan talks about it whenever I mention anything related to Christmas,” I snapped, irritation in my voice.

  “Yeah, well the thing’s, like, ancient.” I shot Tiff a doubtful look.

  “Seriously, the book has been in my family for generations,” she laughed. “Logan’s been begging me since summer to let her read it, but my dad is a little peculiar about letting people see it. You know parents.”

  I nodde
d.

  “Anyway, Jakob, the curse is real.”

  “Oka-a-ay,” I said, drawn-out-like. So far she hadn’t said anything convincing to make me believe the curse was real. Tiff stared at me hard.

  “You really don’t know about the curse, do you?” she said accusingly. I shrugged my shoulders. I wasn’t going to tell her either way. “Well, whether you believe it or not, Logan, Shig, and Fleep cursed themselves the instant they told my brother that they didn’t believe in Santa.”

  “Yeah, so now what happens?” I asked, not buying a word of it.

  “No more presents from Santa forever; that is, unless of course they lift the curse. But they only have until six a.m. on Christmas Day,” Tiff said somberly. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Santa wouldn’t do that!”

  Just then the doorbell rang. She ran outside my room, I guess to see who it was, then ran back to my room as I got up from my chair.

  “It’s Fleep. Where’s your bathroom?” Tiff said hurriedly.

  “Outside my room, there on the right,” I pointed, following Tiff out of my room.

  My bathroom door shut as I got to the banister and looked down at the front door. Fleep was standing on the other side, looking up. My first thought was to hide, but he saw me and waved. I didn’t wave back. A hard, cold stare was what he deserved and what he got. Why did you do it, Fleep? You’re supposed to be my friend, and you sold me out in front of Rick and the other kids.