Catching Santa Read online

  Fleep’s cautious face quickly grew a smile the moment I finally, and reluctantly, waved him in. Before he could say anything, I turned on my heel and hurried back to my room, plopped in front of my computer and stared at the screen. Fleep ambled into my room a few seconds later.

  “Jakob, you still mad?” he asked.

  You can’t tell? So much for my upset look.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It’s not what I really believe. I was embarrassed—we were all embarrassed—and you, well, you were the first to answer Rick’s question. And you answered so fast that by the time everyone stopped laughing at you, well, we all knew we had to answer no. But I believe in Santa. Really, we all still believe in him!” Just then the doorbell rang, again.

  Fleep and I raced to the banister and looked over: it was the rest of the gang—Logan and Shig. I sighed, then waved them up and walked back to my room. I could hear them racing up the stairs. They sounded like a herd of horses. I imagined Logan in the lead. She had to win and would, one way or another.

  “Is he still mad at us?” Logan asked, slightly winded as she entered my room. I glanced over at her. Her long, black hair was pulled into a ponytail, her face shiny with sweat. She leaned against my navy blue wall and glanced around at my Star Wars-themed room. I had a giant mural of an Imperial Star Destroyer crashing through the wall over my bed, several starfighter models hanging from the ceiling and a Star Wars Imperial Commando poster that read, ‘I Want YOU For The Empire!’

  “I don’t know,” Fleep began. “I told him that we believe, then you guys rang the doorbell, but he still hasn’t said anything.”

  “Come on, Jakob, you would have done the same thing if it was one of us they were laughing at,” Shig said, hopping backward up on my bed.

  I stood up and faced Shig.

  “No way,” I said, pointing my finger in his face. “I’d stick up for you guys no matter what. That’s what real friends do and I’d say it again—a million times if I had to. I believe in Santa! He’s as real as God.”

  “What? You can’t see God,” Shig said.

  “So what? It doesn’t mean I don’t believe in him,” I said defensively.

  “Yeah, but that’s a bad example to use,” Logan protested.

  “Why? Because it’s not written in Tiff ’s mysterious Christmas book—a stupid book you’ve been talking about since summer, a book that you haven’t even read. Have you?” I pressed.

  “No, I haven’t read it,” Logan admitted.

  “Speaking of Tiff, she’s in my bathroom.”

  Logan looked surprised.

  “No way, Tiff ’s in your bathroom?” Shig said. “What in the world is she doing here?”

  “I have no idea. I mean, she came over and apologized for her brother but then started talking nonsense about you guys being cursed,” I told Shig.

  “We’re cursed?” Fleep asked nervously.

  “No, you’re not cursed,” I said, annoyed.

  “Yes, we’re cursed, but I know how we can fix things,” Logan said.

  “Are you insane? People don’t get cursed. Tiff ’s up to something. I even caught her in a lie.” I looked firmly at Logan. “Just remember, she’s Rick’s sister—you can’t trust her!”

  “Yes I can. She’s my friend,” Logan said, taken aback. “Besides, hating her brother doesn’t give you the right to be a jerk to her. She’s trying to help us.”

  I got in Logan’s face.

  “Help us? Was her brother trying to help me when he asked me if I believed in Santa? Oh, no wait, he was mocking me out in front of the entire fifth and sixth grade.” I stood back and stewed for a moment then looked at Logan. “Get it through your thick head, she’s making the curse stuff up. Even the book is bogus,” I said, my voice raising.

  “Okay, smarty, what’s she up to?” Logan asked.

  “What’s she doing in my bathroom?” I replied.

  “You can’t answer me with a question. I asked you first,” Logan said.

  “I just did,” I snapped back. “What’s she doing in there?”

  Logan sighed. “Gee, what most people do in a bathroom, genius!”

  “Not for that long and, besides, she ran in there as soon as she saw Fleep at my front door. I’m telling you, you can’t trust her.”

  “Yes, you can,” Logan insisted.

  “No, you can’t.”

  Logan was about to say yes again, when I shouted, “Shut it!”

  Then there was silence, and everyone waited for the inevitable intervention from downstairs.

  “Hey, what’s going on up there?” my mom called. And there it was, right on cue. I scrambled, knocking Shig’s knees as I ran past him and into the hall. My mom stood in the kitchen looking up the stairs.

  “Just a small misunderstanding,” I said, real innocent-like.

  My mom cocked her head. “You and Logan?” She asked. I nodded. “You two have got to stop this arguing.”

  “I know, we will.” I ran back to my room, plopped into my chair and studied my friends’ faces.

  Logan sighed then began, “Look, we know you’re upset. We’re sorry about today.”

  “Yeah, we should have had your back,” Shig added.

  “Yeah,” Fleep made the apology unanimous.

  I smiled. My best friends were back. “Apologies accepted,” I said.

  “Good, because we have our own problems to worry about,” Logan said.

  “Like what?” Fleep asked, surprised.

  “The curse,” Logan declared.

  “Oh yeah,” Fleep said dejectedly.

  “Saying you don’t believe in Santa because of a little embarrassment means no more Christmas presents from him forever,” Logan said.

  “What do you mean, ‘no more Christmas presents’?” Fleep asked with alarm.

  “I’m talking about the Ten Christmas Rules,” Logan said.

  First curses, now rules? What in the world was Logan babbling about? I looked at Shig and Fleep. They looked as confused as I probably did. I’d never heard of the Ten Christmas Rules—the Ten Commandments, yes, but Ten Christmas Rules? It sounded like more nonsense from Tiff.

  “I’ve never heard of Christmas rules. You can’t get cursed. Just ignore her,” I said. Thinking of Tiff reminded me she was still in my bathroom.

  Logan continued. “Just after I got home, Tiff came over. I told her what happened today between her brother and you.”

  “Yeah, thanks for blabbing,” I said.

  “Well I’m glad I did, because we would have never known about the curse. I didn’t even believe her until she showed me the rules on Wikipedia. Tiff said there’s also an entire chapter in her father’s book about them.” Logan paused for a moment, studied our faces, then continued. “Guys, Tiff ’s very knowledgeable about Christmas and Santa.”

  “Here we go again,” I said sneeringly.

  “The curse is real,” Logan snapped.

  “Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “So because Tiff says there is a curse, we should go ahead and believe her. I can’t believe I’m listening to this.”

  Logan ignored me then dug into her right pants pocket and pulled out a folded, printed copy of the Wikipedia article. “Okay, the Ten Christmas Rules are:

  1. Believe.

  2. Be faithful.

  3. Be kind.

  4. Be joyful.

  5. Love.

  6. Be peaceful.

  7. Be patient.

  8. Be good.

  9. Have self-control.

  10. Be gentle.

  You need to worry about the first rule,” Logan said to Fleep and Shig. “The only rule that carries a blessing or a curse is ‘Believe’. According to this rule, you have to publicly believe in Santa. If you believe, you’ll get presents on Christmas. That’s the blessing. But if you publicly deny believing in Santa …” she touched her index finger to her thumb and made a zero, “you get nothing, zero! No presents on Christmas. And that’s just what you two are looking at getting.” Fl
eep and Shig looked stunned.

  “Wait a minute, you said you didn’t believe either,” Shig cried. Just then I heard the bathroom door open and watched as Tiff emerged and settled in unnoticed against the doorframe of my room.

  “Yeah, but like I said before, I know how to make things right,” Logan shot back.

  “Christmas Rule Eleven—The Lost Rule,” Tiff said coolly.

  Logan whirled around to see Tiff then clapped so fast you’d think she was welcoming a movie star. “Oh my gosh. I’m so glad you’re really here. Jakob doesn’t believe me.”

  Tiff ’s green eyes stared through me.

  “I thought there were ten rules,” Fleep interrupted.

  “Nope,” Tiff replied. “My father’s Christmas book also mentions an eleventh rule.”

  “Yeah, the rule has to do with lifting the curse,” Logan said, then dug into her pants pocket again and pulled out another folded sheet of paper. I could see the Wikipedia banner and the title “Christmas Rule Eleven— The Lost Rule.”

  How many articles did she have tucked away? “Now you’re carrying Wikipedia articles around in your pockets?” I asked sarcastically.

  “I just printed them,” she said, snide-like, then began reading. “Rule Eleven states that ‘in order to lift the curse and restore present-receiving privileges from Santa, you must do two things. First, confirm to the person who asked if you believe in Santa that you do indeed believe, and second, make that person become a believer, if they are not so already.’ ” Logan looked up at us and smiled.

  “I don’t understand,” Fleep said.

  Logan sighed. “It’s simple. We tell Rick we believe in Santa and then get Rick to believe in Santa too. We can do this.”

  “Guys, I don’t know, Rick’s pretty thick headed. You’ll need help,” Tiff said. “Jakob, will you help them lift the curse?”

  What? Who, me? That was a surprise question considering this curse business had nothing to do with me and, besides, I was still processing Logan’s dumb comment about getting Rick to believe in Santa. This conversation was bordering on insanity.

  I looked over at Fleep and Shig. Tiff had them hooked like a fish. Well, it was time to cut the line.

  I shook my head and crossed my arms. “No way am I helping,” I said. “This is all nonsense and you guys—”

  But before I could finish, Tiff was in my face. “You listen to me. The curse is real. This isn’t some dumb game. If they don’t tell my brother they believe in Santa and get him to believe before six a.m. on Christmas Day, they will never get presents from Santa again.”

  No matter how many ways I heard it, even said angrily, it still sounded like the dumbest thing on earth. Santa doesn’t curse people and stop delivering presents.

  “You have to follow Christmas Rule Eleven and lift the curse. I mean it!” Tiff sounded desperate.

  I tried not to laugh at her, but couldn’t hold it back. “HA-HA-HA,” escaped and that was it, I’d lost it. After my laughing fit I came face to face with an angry-looking Tiff. She stared at me for another second then pushed past me and stormed out of my room with Logan and Fleep at her heels. Logan even called for her to stop, but it was no use. A few seconds later, the front door slammed shut. There was silence.

  “That was different,” I said, sitting at my desk. Shig nodded.

  “You totally upset her, Jakob,” Logan said, walking in my room with Fleep. “I’ve never seen her so mad. She’s only trying to help us.”

  “Why? Why is she so interested in helping us?” I asked.

  “Because,” Logan said.

  “Alright, well, how are we supposed to make Rick believe?” Shig, always the level-headed one, interrupted, probably sensing another argument brewing.

  “I don’t know,” Logan said then looked at the Christmas Rule Eleven article again. “Wait, there’s an e-mail address, [email protected]. It says to contact them if you suspect you have cursed yourself.”

  “I can’t believe we’re cursed,” Fleep said gloomily.

  “Hey!” I snapped. “Stop saying that. A Wikipedia article doesn’t prove you’re cursed. Shig, back me up.”

  “I don’t know, Jakob,” Shig faltered. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Disappointed, I faced my computer screen. Shig, by far the smartest of the group, was buying into the curse. I shook my head. This curse business was just the next chapter in Rick trying to get me. And now Tiff was helping him.

  “Holy smoke,” Logan yelped, interrupting my thoughts of a Tiff-and-Rick conspiracy. She was captivated by the stack of sketched comics on my desk. “How often are you doing the auto-drawing thing?” Logan asked.

  “Once, sometimes twice a month,” I said, studying her. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

  “No,” Logan said, shocked.

  “What about you guys?” Two head shakes.

  “They’re pretty freaky though. When can I read them?” Shig said, thumbing through some of the comics.

  “You can’t. No text,” I said, grabbing a page.

  “Almost like it doesn’t want you to read it,” Shig said. “Awesome armor!”

  “Yeah,” I pointed to the comic. “See, I’m wearing a futuristic-looking armored suite and holding a small pointed rod.”

  “Cool, you have a heads-up display,” Fleep said.

  “Yep, the scene is always the same though—our neighborhood, transformed into an icy battlefield with fierce commandos. What does it all mean?”

  “Maybe it has something to do with you being adopted,” Fleep said.

  “Yeah, right!” I said, sounding unsure and feeling a bit uncomfortable. Truth was, the adoption thing had me thinking. I didn’t know who my parents were or where I’d come from. I just knew the story of how my adopted dad, a fireman, had rescued me as an infant from an abandoned burning building. And now that I think about it, the circumstances surrounding where he found me were just as unusual as the comic writings. He found me covered in soot and black dust in a room where the temperatures and smoke should have killed me. But I survived. I guess that’s why my parents always said I was special.

  “Guys, figure it out later,” Logan interrupted. “Jakob, e-mail that cursed address.”

  I stared at her for a moment then shook my head. “No way. Bad idea, Logan. I’m not e-mailing anyone from some paper you printed off the Internet.”

  Fleep charged at me and tried to grab my keyboard, but I managed to swivel the chair and block him. “I want a new skateboard this Christmas. If we don’t e-mail that person, I won’t get it,” he cried.

  “Hey, chill out,” I said, swiveling back around in my chair. “You’ll get your skateboard without the e-mail.”

  “Jakob, actually we have nothing to lose by sending the e-mail,” Shig said carefully.

  “Ugh. Not you too, Shig,” I mumbled.

  “Let’s e-mail them,” Shig said.

  I stared at them for a moment. “You seriously think you guys are cursed?” I asked Shig.

  “Actually, I don’t know,” he said, a little unsure. “But I don’t want to risk it.”

  “Yeah, me either,” Logan said.

  “Me either!” Fleep joined the chorus.

  I stared some more. They believed Tiff and the nonsense from the Internet.

  Logan clasped her hands together and pleaded, “Come on Jakob, you’re on the computer. Just e-mail them. I’d do it for you.”

  I stared at the screen. I liked Logan a lot and would do anything for her despite our occasional fight, but sending an e-mail to a stranger was a bad idea. But I believed what she said, that she’d do it for me if I asked. “Please!” Logan pleaded again. I looked up at her over my shoulder, and sighed. She smirked. She had me, and she knew it. I faced the flat-screen monitor. The rest of them scurried around me, with Logan hovering over my left shoulder.

  “What’s the e-mail address?”

  “[email protected],” Logan read from the paper.

  “Okay, so what
do I say?”

  “Start off by telling them that you have been cursed and that you need help. Keep it simple.”

  I read aloud as I typed.

  Dear Cursed,

  I just found out that I am cursed. Can you help me? I really want Santa to bring me presents.

  “Sounds good, now type your name,” Logan ordered. I signed the e-mail, “Stormtrooper TK421.”

  “Stormtrooper TK421? You can’t sign it that way,”

  Logan cried. “Why not?” I asked, still looking at the screen. “They’ll think it’s a prank or that we’re a bunch of

  kids,” Logan said. “Hello? We are a bunch of kids!” I said, facing my friends. “Besides, I am not signing my name, no way!”

  “Okay, whatever,” Logan conceded. “Just send the e-mail.” I swiveled around and reread the e-mail and then clicked Send. There, it was off and on its way to whoever [email protected] was. Before my friends left, I told them not to get their hopes up for a response.

  Boy was I wrong. The e-mail response arrived five hours later.

  Dear Stormtrooper TK421,

  I, the esteemed S.R., will help you. Please respond with details of the event in which you denied your belief in HIM. Time is against you, Stormtrooper TK421. There are only six days before HE takes to the sky to bamboozle the children of the earth. Of course, you wish to participate in that evening’s euphoric event; therefore, you must do exactly as I say, or there will be no presents for you … FOREVER!

  First, you must recant your disbelief to the person who asked you if you believe. That is a simple task; the next is not. You must then get that person to believe in HIM. I know of only one way to do this and, unfortunately, it has never been done before. You will be the first to lift the curse if you are successful.

  What must you do, you ask? Well, my young boy, you must catch and present HIM to the unbeliever! I can help you catch the portly man. I offer my services. If you so choose and accept them, I will need the full names of your parents (including your mother’s maiden name). We must hurry if we are to formulate a plan and catch HIM.

  S.R.