Philip and the Miserable Christmas

by John Paulits

  Francis stepped onto the escalator first and sat down facing backward. “Why should I look at them? I never get any.”

  “You better get up,” said Philip, “before the escalator sucks you under.”

  Francis peeked over his shoulder, a thoughtful look on his face. He stood up. When the escalator got to the top, Francis jumped over the threshold, careful to keep his feet away from the lip where the steps flattened and disappeared.

  “What’s going on over there?” asked Emery. The boys saw a small tangle of people halfway down the aisle.

  “Oh, I know,” said Philip. “Santa Claus is down there. You want to go see Santa Claus, Francis? Francis? Now where is he?”

  Emery pointed. Francis stood staring into the window of the mall’s Lego store.

  “Grab him, Emery. If he goes in there, he’ll probably knock over all the Lego things they built.”

  “Hey, let go,” Francis cried when Emery took hold of his elbow. “I’m only looking. How come I can’t get good stuff like Legos for Christmas?”

  “You like Legos?” Philip asked, putting himself between Francis and the door of the store.

  “We had them in kindergarten. I asked for them last Christmas. I asked for them for my birthday. I asked for them this Christmas. You saw. Pencils and underwear.”

  “Santa Claus is down there, Francis,” Emery repeated. “Let’s go and you can ask him for them.”

  Francis cast Emery a withering look.

  Philip said, “Can’t hurt, Francis.”

  When the boys reached the edge of the crowd around Santa, they squeezed through to the front, where a small white fence, decorated with Christmas bows surrounded what the sign said was The North Pole. Two teenage girls dressed like elves organized the line of children wanting to sit on Santa’s lap. Santa, himself, sat in a fancy chair that looked like it was coated with snow, but Philip saw it really had lots of cotton balls glued to it. One child after another climbed onto Santa’s knee. Santa had them face front so they could have their photo taken with him and then listened to whatever the boy or girl had to tell him. When the child climbed down from his knee, Santa handed over a regular-sized candy cane.

  “Hey, Francis,” said Emery. “Get in line. You’ll get another candy cane.” He leaned close to Philip. “If he gets in line, it’ll probably take the rest of the hour for him to get his turn. He can’t get in trouble standing in line, can he?”

  “Good idea,” Philip whispered back. “Francis, go ahead. We’ll wait. We don’t mind.”

  Francis handed one box of candy canes to Philip and the other to Emery. “Don’t take any,” he ordered.

  “No,” said Philip. “We won’t. Get in line.” Francis walked off, and Philip said, “Great idea, Emery. Let’s move over there.” The boys sidled through the smiling mothers and fathers waiting for their children to reach Santa. The boys nestled in and looked toward the back of the line. Philip frowned. “I don’t see him,” he said. Then with rising panic, “Emery, I don’t see him!”

  “Where could he go?” Emery leaned as far over the fence as he could. “He’s not in line. I can see all the way to the end.”

  “Now what?” Philip cried in exasperation. Suddenly, loud crying came from the direction of Santa Claus. Philip and Emery stiffened.

  Emery said, “Shall I look again and not tell you it’s not Francis?”

  “Yes.”

  Philip continued facing away while Emery inspected.

  “Well?” Philip asked.

  Emery didn’t answer.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Philip cried and spun around. There stood Francis a few feet away from Santa Claus. One of the elves knelt next to Francis with her arm around his shoulders while Francis wailed away at the top of his lungs.

  “What’s he doing?” Philip cried. “What’s he crying for?”

  The boys had a tough time getting through the crowd outside the fence near the weeping boy. As Philip and Emery looked on, Francis put both his arms around the neck of the elf and rested his head against her shoulder, crying the whole time. The elf whispered something in Francis’s ear, and the boy lifted his head and nodded. The elf pulled a handkerchief from somewhere, wiped Francis’s eyes, and led him to Santa. Francis scrambled onto Santa’s lap.

  “He didn’t have to do all that to get a stupid candy cane,” said Philip.

  “And you thought my cousin Leon was bad,” said Emery. Leon had caused Philip and Emery problems many times.

  “Ohhhh. There he goes screaming again,” said Philip.

  “Maybe he didn’t want to wait in line. Pretty soon he’s going to say he’s with me and you, and everybody’ll be looking at us again. I’m hiding over there. He’s your cousin.”

  Philip grabbed Emery by the arm. “No, no. Stay with me.”

  “Boy, you’re going to owe me forever,” Emery grumbled, deciding against deserting his friend.

  They watched Francis nod again at something Santa said. Santa spoke to the elf who’d delivered Francis to him. She stepped outside the fence and disappeared for a moment. Santa and Francis spoke quietly as Santa wiped Francis’s eyes with the elf’s handkerchief. Two minutes later, the elf reappeared carrying a long box. Santa and the elf spoke, and then the elf asked Francis a question. Francis nodded his head vigorously and took the long box from the elf.

  All at once, an announcement came over the public address system. “Would Mr. Philip and Mr. Emery please report to Santa at the North Pole on the second floor? A little boy is there waiting for you.” The announcement repeated as Philip and Emery looked into each other’s eyes.

  “That’s us. Me and you,” said Emery.

  “We’re not misters.”

  “We’re Philip and Emery, and they want to get rid of Francis. It’s got to be us.”

  They heard Francis shout, “There they are.”

  All eyes turned toward Philip and Emery. The elf walked their way and spoke to them.

  “You two are Mr. Philip and Mr. Emery?”

  Philip nodded, mortified at being the center of the crowd’s attention. “He’s my cousin.”

  “Come in here and take him back. You should hold onto him tighter.”

  “By his neck,” Emery whispered to Philip.

  Francis slid off Santa’s lap. “Where’d you go?” he asked, sniffing back tears. “You left me alone, and I was scared.”

  “We didn’t leave you . . .” Philip began angrily.

  “Take him,” said the elf. “He’s quiet now.”

  Francis walked to Philip. “Take me.”

  Philip led the way through the crowd and didn’t stop walking until they reached the end of the aisle far from everyone who’d witnessed Francis’s tantrum.

  “What did you do?” Philip finally asked when they stood still.

  “I told them I got lost, and they gave me this. It’s a double power, two-way phaser projectile launcher. I wanted Legos, but I’ll take this.”

  “What?” Emery cried. “You made believe you got lost, made a lot of noise, and asked for this launcher, and they gave it to you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, not exactly?” said Philip. “You have it, don’t you?”

  “I didn’t know what they’d give me.”

  “How did you know they’d give you anything?”

  Francis shrugged. “I just thought. You can call your father now. I can’t carry any more stuff. Give me back my candy canes.”

  Philip and Emery stared at Francis as he walked toward the escalator, two boxes of candy canes under one arm and a double power, two-way phaser projectile launcher under the other.

  “Call him,” Francis called back over his shoulder. “This stuff is getting heavy.”

  Philip couldn’t believe it. He trailed after Francis saying, “All that crying was a fake because you thought they’d give you a present if you made a lot of noise?”

  “Mostly,” said Francis. He stopped at the top of the escalator.
r />   Emery said, “Call your father before he does something else.”

  Philip took his mother’s cell phone from his pocket and made the call as they rode down the stairs. Ten minutes later, they were back in the car, slowly driving back home through the slushy, sloppy streets.

  Chapter Eight

  “Now what?” Francis asked when they were back in Philip’s living room. “Stay here and think what’ll entertain me. I’ll be back.”

  Philip and Emery watched Francis climb the stairs.

  Emery said, “He went to the mall with nothing, and there he goes up to his room with a whatever blaster and twenty-four candy canes. He’s pretty good.”

  “What are we going to do with him for the rest of the day?”

  “I’ll have lunch ready in a minute,” Philip’s mother called from the kitchen.

  “You’ve got to think of something, Emery.”

  Francis came back downstairs still carrying one box of candy canes. Philip’s mother appeared.

  “Philip, where’d your father go?”

  “I’m here,” came his father’s voice. “I went to the basement for something. Lunch?”

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Felton. “Francis, you can put your box on the coffee table. No one will touch it.”

  “I’ll hold them.”

  “Oh. Well, okay. You hold them.” Mrs. Felton sighed and led everyone into the kitchen.

  After lunch, the three boys returned to the living room.

  “Well?” said Francis. “You think of something to entertain me?”

  “You want us to sing you some songs?” Philip asked.

  “No. Movies.”

  “Watch Pinocchio again,” said Philip.

  “I watched it four times already.”

  Emery interrupted. “Francis, I can go home and get you some more movies. You’ve got to give me two candy canes, though.”

  Francis eyed Emery suspiciously.

  “Good movies? I’m not watching any stupid Care Bear movie.”

  “You can decide which ones you want,” said Emery.

  Philip crossed his fingers behind his back as Francis considered the offer. Finally, Francis looked at the box of candy canes and then at Emery.

  “Okay, but only two.”

  “Let’s get our coats on,” said Philip.

  “No,” said Emery, waving his hands. “What coats? I didn’t say we were going anywhere.”

  “Yes, you did,” said Philip. “How can Francis pick what movie he wants if he doesn’t see what you have?”

  “Yeah,” said Francis, walking to the closet for his coat. “How can I pick if I don’t see?”

  “Oh,” said Emery, realizing he was stuck. The boys bundled up.

  From Emery’s movie library, Francis picked Iron Giant, The Wizard of Oz, 101 Dalmatians, and The Fox and the Hound.

  Francis decided he’d rather watch the movies at Emery’s house, so Emery got his mother’s permission for everyone to stay for pizza dinner. When Philip called his mother to report, his mother asked him to quietly try to find some idea for a gift Mrs. Wyatt might like. “We really have to give her something after taking Francis off our hands so much.”

  Francis and Emery opened their candy canes, and Philip stared at them. Francis studied his cousin. He took a candy cane from his box and offered it to Philip.

  “Only one,” he said. “Put the movie in, Ellery.”

  “Emery,” said Emery.

  The afternoon passed peacefully as the boys watched three of the movies and sucked on candy canes as long as they had one.

  After pizza, when it was time to go home, Francis said, “I’m taking this one.” He held up The Fox and the Hound. “We didn’t watch it.”

  A worried look passed across Emery’s face. “You still got Pinocchio, right?”

  “I’ll give you both back tomorrow,” said Philip. “We’ll take care of the movies, right Francis.”

  “Let’s go,” said Francis.

  They went.

  ~ * ~

  Francis fell asleep halfway through The Fox and the Hound, and Mr. Felton carried him upstairs. This time he changed Francis into his pajamas, doing it very slowly so Francis wouldn’t awaken.

  The next morning, the day before Christmas, Francis already sat on the sofa, a candy cane in his hand, when Philip came down to breakfast.

  “Why do you sleep so long?” Francis asked, clearly annoyed. “Turn the movie on. From the beginning.”

  Philip complied and slipped into the kitchen for cereal. His parents sat at the table, drinking coffee.

  Philip’s mother spoke. “Philip, your father and I have to go over my sister’s house for a few hours this afternoon. We usually visit on Christmas Day, but can’t tomorrow because of you know who. So tell Emery to come over, and you two can keep Francis entertained.”

  “Awww, Mom . . .”

  “We won’t stay long. We’re going early, so your father doesn’t have to drive the snowy streets after dark. They don’t live far. We won’t be long.”

  “Why don’t you take us all?” Philip asked brightly.

  “I don’t want to inflict Francis on your aunt.”

  “Oh, so inflict him on me, instead,” Philip grumbled. No one responded, leaving Philip to munch on his cereal and hope for the best.

  After breakfast, he called Emery and explained the circumstances. Emery promised to bring another movie.

  “You better get here fast,” said Philip. “He’s eating up all the candy canes like they’re going to melt if he doesn’t. When they’re gone, he won’t have anything to do.”

  Philip felt immense relief when the doorbell rang. Emery tossed his coat on the newspapers next to the closet door, and the boys went into the living room.

  When Francis noticed Emery carrying something he said, “What’d you bring me?”

  “Another movie. Aladdin. It’s about a . . .”

  “Put it on,” Francis ordered. “I don’t like this one.”

  Emery handed the movie to Philip, who put it into the player. Philip took Emery aside.

  “We’ve got him all afternoon, just you and me.”

  “Why? Where are your parents going? Are they flying away, too?”

  “No, they’re driving away. To my aunt’s. They say they won’t be long.”

  Emery peeked over Philip’s shoulder. “He looks quiet, but suppose he doesn’t like this movie?”

  “Then you go and get another one.”

  “You have movies. Use one of yours.”

  “I can’t let Francis know I have movies and toys. I already told him I don’t have anything.”

  “We’re going,” called Mrs. Felton. She and her husband had their coats on, and each carried a shopping bag of gifts. “I’ll bring your presents home, and you can open them tomorrow.”

  At the word presents Philip’s and Francis’s eyes met. Philip saw Francis’s lips press together until he turned back to watch the TV.

  “There are sandwiches already made for you. We won’t be long.”

  The door closed, and Philip and Emery checked on Francis, who sat quietly involved in the adventures of Aladdin.

  “I’m hungry,” said Philip.

  “Let’s eat the sandwiches.”

  “Are you hungry, Francis?”

  Francis held his candy cane in the air. “I’m good.”

  Philip pondered. “I don’t think we should leave him alone. Anything could happen. We better eat one at a time.”

  “Okay, you go first,” said Emery.

  Philip went into the kitchen, and Emery sat on the end of the sofa to keep an eye on Francis. A moment later, Francis looked over at Emery.

  “What?” Emery asked. “What are you looking at? Don’t look at me. Watch Aladdin.”

  “Pause it.”

  Emery got the remote and froze the movie.

  “Here,” said Francis, and he handed Emery a candy cane wrapped in cellophane.

  “Thanks,” said Emery, surprised he rated a gift
. He unwrapped the candy cane. “These are good. Tell me, what stuff that we did did you like? Going to my house for comics? Going to my house for pizza dinner? Going to ride the train and seeing Santa Claus? Whatever you liked, we could go to again.”

  Francis jumped off the sofa and walked out of the living room. “You can watch the movie yourself. I’m going to the mall. I’ll be back,” said Francis.

  Emery watched Francis parade past him and disappear into the hallway. “Going to them all?” he called after him. “Every one? Sure. We can go to them all if you want. After we finish this movie, we can go back to my house and read comics. We have some leftover pizza. Then we can watch another movie.” Emery thought he heard the front door close. He checked the hallway to see who had come in. No one was there. He went back to the sofa and let the movie roll again. “Hurry up, Francis,” he called. “You’re missing things.”

  Philip entered the living room. “Where’s Francis?”

  “I think he went to the bathroom. I asked him what things we did he wanted to do again. He said he wanted to do everything again.”

  “Like what everything? Climb up to the top of the presents in the toy store? Scream in front of Santa Claus?”

  “No, no. Go to my house for comics and maybe some pizza and another movie.”

  “Go eat your sandwich,” said Philip.

  Emery disappeared into the kitchen. Philip watched the movie for a few moments, but when Francis did not reappear, he grew suspicious. He got up from the sofa and walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Francis,” he shouted up. “You okay?” When he got no answer, he called louder. “Francis.”

  Emery walked out of the kitchen, half a sandwich in his hand.

  “You sure Francis went to the bathroom?” Philip asked.

  “I guess. Where else would he go?”

  “Did he say he was going to the bathroom?”

  Emery shrugged. “He said he had to go somewhere.”

  Philip ran up the stairs. After a moment, he called down, “He’s not up here.” He charged down the stairs. “Look around. He’s got to be in the house someplace.”

  The boys checked each room as well as the basement. No Francis.