by Dan Gutman
In case you were wondering, everybody was saying that Santa was giving out candy. And if there’s one thing that I love almost as much as Santa, it’s candy. All the candy I got on Halloween was gone.
So we decided to stay in line.
But waiting in lines is boring. To kill the time, I practiced what I was going to say when I got to Santa. . . .
“I want the new Striker Smith Commando action figure with missile launcher, voice activator, attack dog, and deluxe blowtorch. Other accessories sold separately. Batteries not included.”
Striker Smith is a superhero from the future who travels through time and fights all who dare to thwart his destiny. He can turn into a jet plane when you push a button on his stomach. His armor suit is tough enough to withstand a nuclear blast. He’s a one-man wrecking machine, ready to take on any evil to save the world.
Two Christmases ago, I got my first Striker Smith action figure. Then on the school bus I tied a string to Striker’s leg and lowered him out the window so he could fight bad guys who were attacking the bus. But Striker fell under the bus and got decapitated. That’s a fancy way of saying his head came off. We had a funeral for his head.*
I got a new Striker Smith last Christmas. But he met his untimely end when his head got tragically melted in a battle with an evil magnifying glass. So now I wanted to get a new Striker, the one that comes with a blowtorch. It is cool.
Most of the other kids in line were little. They didn’t even look like they were in first grade yet. Man, I thought, those kids can’t even read. They don’t know what two plus two equals! They don’t know anything. It’s hard to believe that I was that dumb just a few years ago.
Standing still is the most boring thing in the history of the world. What a snoozefest. The line inched forward a little. I could almost see Santa.
“I bet it’s not the real Santa,” I told Alexia. “It’s just some guy in a Santa suit.”
The little kid in front of me heard that and turned around. He was holding his mother’s hand, and he looked like he was going to cry. He must have been waiting for a long time already. If these kids didn’t get to meet Santa soon, they were going to freak out.
A group of grown-ups strolled by the line singing Christmas carols. Somebody else walked by with a real reindeer. There were more reindeer in a petting zoo.
“Where do you think they got those reindeer?” Michael asked me.
“From Rent-A-Reindeer,” I told him. “You can rent anything.”
Some lady came by asking kids if they wanted to write a letter to Santa and have it delivered to the North Pole. That was a dumb idea. Santa was right here at the mall. Why would I want to send a letter all the way to the North Pole?
“When are we going to get there?” asked Ryan.
“Waiting in line stinks,” I said.
“You boys are annoying,” Andrea said. “Why don’t you go take a walk? Emily and I will hold your place in line.”
She didn’t have to ask us twice. We got out of there.
7
A Present for My Sister
“Let’s go to Candy Castle!” Ryan shouted as soon as we got out of the line.
“Let’s go to Cinnabon,” shouted Michael.
“Let’s get ice cream!” said Neil the nude kid.
“Let’s go to the skateboard shop!” said Alexia.
Malls are cool. There’s so much stuff to see and do, especially around Christmastime. Our mall even has a train in it.
We ran over to the train. It goes around and around in circles on metal tracks. At the ticket booth was an elf with a funny hat and pointy ears, like on Star Trek. The elf turned around, and you’ll never believe who it was.
Mrs. Kormel, our bus driver!
“Mrs. Kormel!” I shouted. “What are you doing here?”
“Bingle boo!” she said. “I’m running the train . . . and earning a little extra money over the holidays.”
“Aren’t you a little tall to be an elf?” asked Alexia.
“Elves come in all sizes,” Mrs. Kormel told us. “All aboard! Toot toot!”
That train ride looked lame, so we didn’t get on. Any train that needs an elf to toot for it must be lame.
We ran over to the escalator. Escalators are cooler than trains, and you don’t need tickets to ride them. My friend Billy, who lives around the corner, told me that if you run down an up escalator for ten seconds, you’ll travel back in time.*
Neil said he had to go to the bathroom, so we went over to the men’s room and waited for him to finish. That’s when I remembered that my mom gave me money to buy a present for my sister. I didn’t know what to get her. What do you get for an annoying sister?
“You’re a girl,” I said to Alexia. “What do you think my sister would like? Perfume? Jewelry?”
“Why don’t you get her a new skateboard?” suggested Alexia. “That’s what I want.”
A skateboard!
“My sister doesn’t even know how to ride a skateboard,” I told Alexia. “Why would she want that?”
“No, that’s a great idea, A.J.!” said Ryan. “Buy your sister a skateboard. Then when she doesn’t use it, the skateboard is yours.”
“That’s genius!” I said.
Alexia and Ryan should be in the gifted and talented program.
Neil came out of the bathroom. We were about to go over to the skateboard shop to buy my sister’s present when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened.
It started with a noise—a high-pitched screech. At first it was far away. Then it got louder.
And louder.
There was the thunder of feet. They were getting closer.
And closer.
Then there was screaming!
Then we saw a bunch of girls running in our direction. There must have been five hundred of them.
“EEEEEEEEK!” one of them screamed. “I think I see Cray-Z!”
“I love you, Cray-Z!”
Cray-Z was running right at us, and he was being chased by a thundering herd of screaming girls.
“In here!” I yelled to him. “Follow me!”
Ryan, Michael, Neil, and Alexia formed a human wall to stop the girls. I hustled Cray-Z into the men’s bathroom. He was gasping for breath. I thought he was gonna die.
He put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.
“You gotta help me, dude,” he said. “Those girls are nuts!”
8
Plenty of Cray-Z to Go Around
The famous Cray-Z was standing right next to me, live and in person!
“I can’t take it anymore!” Cray-Z moaned. “They’re gonna tear me apart! I need somewhere to hide!”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I had to think fast.
So I did the first thing that came to my mind.
I took off my pants.
“Quick!” I said to Cray-Z. “Let’s switch clothes! They’ll never know the difference!”
“Good idea!” Cray-Z said, taking off his pants.
I tore off my itchy Christmas sweater and gave it to Cray-Z. He tore off his clothes and gave them to me. I put on his clothes and he put on mine. I looked pretty sharp with his hat and sunglasses. It was hilarious.
“Do I look like you?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he said. “Do I look like you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You chill in here for a while. I’ll take care of your fans for you.”
I pulled the hat down low over my face, strolled out of the men’s room, and gave a big wave to the girls. They started screaming and pulling out cameras to take my picture.
“Look, it’s him! It’s Cray-Z!”
“I love you!”
“Can I have your autograph?”
Those girls were totally buying it! They really thought I was Cray-Z!
“Sure you can have my autograph,” I said.
The girls started sticking pens and paper in my face. I wrote CRAY-Z as fast as my hand cou
ld move.
“One at a time, girls,” I said cheerfully. “One at a time. There’s plenty of Cray-Z to go around.”
“EEEEEEK! I touched him!” a little girl screamed. “I’ll never wash this hand again!”
After they got my autograph, girls were fainting, crying, and freaking out all over the place. They didn’t know that I was just a regular kid. They had no idea that the real Cray-Z was hiding in the bathroom.
It was cool to be a famous celebrity. This was the greatest day of my life!
But you’ll never believe who rolled over on his Segway at that moment.
It was Officer Spence, the mall security guard!
Uh-oh. The jig was up. I figured I was in big trouble.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Z,” said Officer Spence, “but it’s time.”
“Time for what?” I asked.
“Time for you to sing.”
“Huh? What? M-me?” I stammered. “Nobody told me—”
“Hurry up!” Officer Spence said. “They’re all waiting for you.”
“Who all? Huh? Where?”
Officer Spence grabbed my hand and pulled me up on his Segway. We rolled over to a stage that had been set up near the center of the mall. There were four musicians on the stage wearing Santa hats.
“Get up there!” yelled Officer Spence.
I climbed up on the stage.
“Yo, Z,” said the guitar player. “You the man.”
The girls started screaming. I looked out at the sea of faces. Some of these fans were younger than me. Some of them were older than me. A few of them looked like my grandma! That was weird. I gave a little wave, and they all started freaking out like they never saw a guy wave before. A guy in a jacket and tie climbed onto the stage and picked up the microphone.
“Okay, boys and girls,” he said. “This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Here’s the latest pop sensation to sing ‘The Christmas Klepto,’ his new hit song . . . Craaaaaaaaaaay-Zeeeee!”
The girls screamed even louder. The musicians started playing that annoying song. I had no choice. I grabbed the mic and started rapping. . . .
“’Twas the night before Christmas.
You know the rest.
Stuff was all over; the house was all messed.
I was dreaming of a Christmas white.
It was a totally silent night.
That’s when I heard a crash and a boom,
So I ran right down to the living room.
There was this guy dressed all in black,
And over his shoulder he carried a sack.
I took one look at him and said, ‘Whoa, man!
I know you’re not Frosty the Snowman.’
‘Who are you?’ I asked after a pause.
‘You sure don’t look like Santa Claus.’
He said, ‘The name’s Klepto. I’m from the South Pole.
I grab all your presents. That’s how I roll.
‘On Christmas Eve I go around the world
and steal all the presents from boys and girls.’”
You know what? Those girls were digging it! You should have been there! The best part was, they were screaming so loud that nobody could tell I wasn’t the real Cray-Z. So I kept rapping. . . .
“He went to the corner and got down on one knee
To scoop up the gifts that were under our tree.
He took them all. He grabbed my new toys.
He took my new clothes. He took all our joy.
To the Christmas Klepto, everything’s free.
‘I’ll take your partridge,’ he said, ‘and your pear tree.
‘I like your presents, and now they’re mine.
Say, how much of this stuff did you buy online?
‘You better watch out. You better not cry.
You make one peep, and I’ll poke out your eye.’
‘You’re a mean man, sir!’ I said with a hiss.
Just wait until Santa finds out about this.’”
I didn’t get to finish the song because that guy in the jacket and tie hopped up on the stage again and grabbed the mic away from me.
“Isn’t Cray-Z fantastic?” he yelled. “He’ll be back at two o’clock to sing for you some more.”
The girls screamed. Officer Spence grabbed my hand. I hopped on his Segway, and he took me back to the men’s bathroom.
In the bathroom, Cray-Z was looking in the mirror and combing his hair. When he saw me, he turned around and gave me a hug.
“You saved my life, dude!” he told me. “I owe you one, big-time.”
9
Take a Chill Pill
When I came out of the bathroom wearing my regular clothes, the whole gang clapped me on the back.
“You were awesome, A.J.!” said Alexia.
“Those girls didn’t suspect a thing,” said Ryan.
“How did you know the words to that dumb song?” asked Michael.
“It’s been stuck in my head all week!” I admitted.
We hustled through the crowd to get back to Santa’s Workshop, all the way at the other end of the mall. It took a long time to find Andrea and Emily. They were close to the front of the line now.
“Where were you?” Andrea asked with her mean face on. “What took you so long?”
“It’s almost our turn to meet Santa!” said Emily.
“Take a chill pill,” I told them. “We’re here, right?”
I could see Santa Claus now. He was sitting on this big throne with his red suit, red hat, white beard, and black boots—the whole getup. Santa was fat and jolly, just like I imagined. He was surrounded by Christmas trees, presents, fake snow, and a giant nutcracker on each side.*
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa bellowed.
“Y’know, I’m not sure that’s the real Santa,” said Neil the nude kid.
“It looks like Santa to me,” said Michael.
“I’m so excited!” said Andrea, rubbing her hands together.
Soon it would be our turn. We were on pins and needles.
Well, not really. We were just standing there. If we were on pins and needles, it would have hurt.
I got up on my tiptoes to look all around. There were so many happy, smiling faces. Christmas trees. Twinkling lights. Jingle bells jingling. It was a beautiful scene.
“Ah,” I said, “I love the smell of tinsel at Christmastime.”
“Tinsel doesn’t smell, dumbhead,” said Andrea. “That’s pine needles that you smell.”
“It’s your face that I smell,” I said.
Why can’t a truck full of tinsel fall on Andrea’s head?
Just then, one of Santa’s elves came running down the line of kids. “It’s almost your turn to meet Santa!” she said.
That’s when I realized that the elf wasn’t a real elf. It was our librarian, Mrs. Roopy! She was dressed up like an elf!
“Mrs. Roopy!” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“Who’s Mrs. Roopy?” asked Mrs. Roopy. “I’m one of Santa’s helpers from the North Pole.”
She wasn’t fooling anybody. It was Mrs. Roopy for sure. That’s when I realized that all of Santa’s helpers were grown-ups from our school. The guy playing Christmas songs on the organ was our music teacher, Mr. Loring. The lady dressed up like Frosty the Snowman was our custodian, Miss Lazar. Another one of the elves was our Spanish teacher, Miss Holly.
“Miss Holly!” I said when I saw her. “What are you doing here?”
“Earning a little extra money over the holidays,” she said. “We all are. ¡Feliz Navidad!”
“I guess teachers don’t get paid very much,” said Ryan.
“Teachers get paid?” I asked. “I thought they just came to school every day because they had no place else to go.”
There was just one family in front of us in line now. A lady with a big camera came over. I did a double take. The lady was Ms. Hannah, our art teacher!
“Merry Christmas!” she said. “Now listen up. When you sit on Santa’s lap, I’m going to snap y
our picture. So let’s see some big smiles, okay?”
“Okay!” we all said.
“Do you want to buy the twenty-dollar package or the forty-dollar package?” Ms. Hannah asked us.
“Package of what?” I said.
“Package of pictures, of course,” said Ms. Hannah. “The twenty-dollar package includes one eight-by-ten in a nice frame. The forty-dollar package includes two framed eight-by-tens and ten wallet-size pictures. I suggest you buy the forty-dollar package so you can share your pictures with your grandparents, your aunts, your uncles. . . .”
What a scam.
“I don’t want to buy any package,” I told Ms. Hannah.
“Yeah,” said Alexia. “We just want to meet Santa.”
“Fine,” Ms. Hannah said. But she said it in a way that meant “not fine.”*
The family in front of us had six annoying kids: three boys and three girls. None of them would sit still. They were all sticking their fingers in Santa’s nose, poking him in the eyes, and pulling on his beard. It took like a million hundred hours for Ms. Hannah to take a picture of each of the kids. Then she had to take a picture of just the boys. Then she had to take a picture of just the girls. Then she had to take a family picture. I thought I was gonna die from old age.
But finally, the last little whining nerd got up from Santa’s lap. It was our turn.
“Okay, which one of you wants to go first?” asked Mrs. Roopy.
“I’m sc-scared of Santa,” said Emily, who’s scared of everything.
“Me too,” said Alexia.
“So am I,” said Andrea, Neil, Ryan, and Michael.
I had just sung that dumb rap song in front of a million hundred screaming girls. I wasn’t afraid of anything.
“I’m not scared,” I said. “I’ll go first.”
This was going to be the greatest moment of my life.
10
My Turn
I stepped up on the platform where Santa was sitting and climbed on his lap. Ms. Hannah told me to smile, and she snapped my picture.
This was it. Everything I had ever done had been leading up to this moment. Now my life was complete. If I suddenly dropped dead, at least I could say that I had met Santa Claus.