Philip and the Miserable Christmas

by John Paulits

  “Emery, I’m getting scared. Where did he go? What did he say?”

  “He said he had to do something.”

  “And then what did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You said you asked him about doing stuff.”

  “Yeah. Did he want to go to my house and read comics, or go to the toy store or ride the train again? I asked which did he want to go to again.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he wanted to go to them all.”

  “Maybe he went to your house then. He knows where you live. Maybe he got tired of watching the movie. He’s been watching movies for like a hundred hours already. He’s probably at your house reading comic books. Call your mother. Check.”

  Emery stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.

  “Chew faster,” Philip pleaded.

  Emery pumped his jaws and swallowed and opened his empty mouth. “There.”

  The boys hurried into the kitchen, and Emery made the call.

  “Mom, hi. It’s me, Emery.” To Philip he whispered, “She said she knows it’s me.”

  “Ask. Ask.”

  “Is Francis there? Did he come to read comic books? Oh. No? Look again. You sure?” He hung up. “She said she’s sure. He’s not there.”

  “Uh-oh. Think, Emery. Where did he say he was going? He must have said something.”

  “I told you. He got up and walked away and said he had to do something. We better check the house again.”

  The boys went floor to floor and room to room shouting Francis’s name.

  “Oh!” Philip cried. “The closet. Let’s check if his coat’s there.”

  The boys ran to the closet and yanked the door open.

  “I don’t see it,” said Emery.

  “Oh, man. It’s not here. If he took his coat, it means he went out. Get your coat on, Emery. This is an emergency.”

  Chapter Nine

  The boys bundled up and charged out the front door. When they reached the sidewalk, they looked at one another.

  “Where are we going?” asked Emery.

  Philip shouted, “Francis!” as loud as he could. They waited, but got no answer. “Where could he go?” Philip said angrily. “Let’s try your house again.”

  The two boys walked silently down the street. Emery opened his front door and called in. “Francis. You there, Francis?”

  Emery’s mother stepped into the hallway. “I told you he’s not here, Emery. He probably got cold and went back to Philip’s house.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Emery muttered and closed the door. “Not there.”

  “He wouldn’t be at Mrs. Moriarty’s,” said Philip. “They don’t even know each other.” Mrs. Moriarty was Philip’s favorite neighbor. She had movies they could watch and always had lots of candy sitting out in the house.

  “Right, no way he’s there. How about the playground?”

  “He doesn’t know where it is.”

  “The library?”

  “He doesn’t know where it is.”

  “He doesn’t know where anything is except your house and my house.”

  “We took him to the mall.”

  “He’s a little kid. How could he remember the way?”

  “It’s only like four blocks. Emery, think. What did he say to you?”

  “I told you. I asked which of the places we went would he like to go to again.”

  “And he said . . .”

  “He said he was going to them all.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. He should be at your house, then. If he was going to them all . . . Gah! Emery, tell me again exactly what he said.”

  “All he said was he was going to them all. How many times I got to tell you?”

  “No, no. He didn’t say he was going to them all.”

  “He didn’t? He did!”

  “No, he didn’t. He said he was going to the mall.”

  Emery stared at his friend. “He didn’t say he was going to them all. He said he was going to them all? I said that.”

  “Not them all! The mall.”

  “Not them all? Them all? What are you talking about?”

  “Emery. Not T-H-E-M A-L-L. T-H-E M-A-L-L.”

  “Not T-H-E-M-A-L-L. T-H-E-M-A-L-L?” Emery shook his head sympathetically, and Philip screamed. “The Mall! He went to the—mall. Not them—all. See? Get it? Not them all. The mall.”

  “Ohhhhh.” Emery mumbled, “Them . . . all. The . . . mall. They both sound the same to me. How could I know?”

  “He’s at the mall, Emery. We’ve got to get there.”

  “Why would he go the mall?”

  “How should I know, but that’s where he is.”

  Ten minutes later, Philip and Emery entered the main door of the mall.

  “Should we listen for screaming?” Emery asked, unzipping his jacket and shoving his hat into his pocket.

  “Or maybe we can ask the mall security if there’s been any riots lately.”

  “Where do you think he could be?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s walk.”

  The boys strolled the aisle of the first floor of the mall. Nothing seemed amiss until they neared the end of the aisle.

  Philip pointed. “Uh-oh.” Francis stood in front of Kids’ Wonderland Toys. The same man from the day before, wearing the same Santa Claus tie, but with a green shirt, bent over Francis, waving his arms. Philip and Emery ran ahead.

  “What happened?” Philip asked when he pulled up in front of Mr. Wackers.

  “This guy won’t let me in,” Francis complained. “I only want to look around.”

  “You looked around yesterday, young man. Oh, you looked around yesterday. You had a bird’s eye view yesterday. That was enough for one Christmas.”

  “I promise I won’t climb,” Francis argued.

  “No, no. You’ve seen enough. No unescorted minors in the store. I had to take two aspirin last night when I got home. I’ve learned to bring a bottle to work now, thanks to you.”

  Francis shook his head in confusion. “What’s unscorted? I want to look around.”

  “Unescorted,” Mr. Wackers explained hurriedly. “You cannot go in alone.”

  Francis pointed to Philip and Emery. “They’ll go in with me. Then I’ll be scorted.”

  “No,” Mr. Wackers cried. “They’re minors, also.”

  “They got to be scorted?” Francis asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll scort them.”

  “No, no. You can’t go in without an adult with you.”

  Francis thought a moment. He reached out for the arm of an older woman walking by.

  “Hey, lady. Will you scort me?”

  The lady looked astonished and hurried away.

  “You boys, take him away, or else.”

  Philip took Francis’s arm. “We’ve got to go, Francis.”

  Francis pulled loose, walked up to Mr. Wackers, and kicked him in the shin. He spun around and walked away, Philip and Emery right behind him.

  Philip heard Mr. Wackers shout, “Bascomb, my aspirin! Bring me my aspirin!”

  “Francis,” said Philip, “you can’t go around kicking people.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll get . . . you’ll get . . . I don’t know. Arrested.”

  “Pffftt!” came Francis’s response.

  “All right. Never mind. Why’d you come here by yourself?” Philip asked. “You didn’t tell anybody you were coming.”

  “I told Emberry.”

  “Emery. Emery. His name is Emery. He thought you said you were going to them all.”

  “That’s what I did say. I told him I was going to the mall. He’s not deaf, is he?”

  Philip groaned. “Okay, forget it. Let’s go home.”

  “I can’t,” said Francis.

  “For Pete’s sake, why not?” Philip cried.

  “I’m not finished.”

  “Finished what? Finished doing nothing aga
in?”

  “No, I got to do something. A real something.”

  “What is it? Go do it, so we can go.”

  Francis shook his head. “I can’t do it with you here.”

  “We’ll wait for you at the front entrance of the mall, then. But don’t kick or break or climb or . . .”

  Francis stopped Philip. “Nope,” he said. “You got to go upstairs. Go where Santa Claus is and wait ten minutes.” Francis stretched out both hands and spread his fingers. “Ten.”

  “Okay. Then we’ll meet at the entrance,” Philip said.

  “Nope.”

  “Nope?” Philip yelped. “What do you mean nope?”

  “Wait ten minutes, and then you can go home,” Francis directed.

  “And where will you be?” Philip asked warily.

  “I’ll be home waiting for you.”

  “Francis, if my parents knew I let you go to the mall and back all by yourself, they’d cancel Christmas for me.”

  “So? My Christmas is already cancelled,” said Francis, and his arm shot up, and he pointed to the ceiling. “Go to Santa Claus.”

  “He made it here,” said Emery, “so I guess he can make it back.”

  “You better not do anything stupid, Francis,” Philip warned.

  “You better not do anything stupid,” Francis replied. “Go.”

  Reluctantly, Philip and Emery made their way to the escalator and rode to the second floor. When they stood near Santa, Emery said, “Good thing he only has ten fingers. If he took off his shoes and socks, he could make us wait twenty minutes.”

  “We don’t have to wait ten minutes ’cause he says so,” said Philip.

  “Oh, no? We better. I’ll watch the mall clock.”

  The second hand of the giant clock took ten slow trips in a circle, and when the tenth trip ended, the boys made a beeline to the escalator.

  “You want to check and make sure he’s not still here?” asked Emery.

  “No. If he wanted to stay longer, he would have stayed longer.”

  “I think you’re right about that.”

  “Let’s get home and make sure he’s there.” The boys hurried through the mall and out the door onto the street.

  Chapter Ten

  When Philip and Emery entered Philip’s house, they dropped their jackets on the newspaper spread outside the closet and heard footsteps. Francis and Philip’s mother were walking down the stairs. Everyone gathered in the living room.

  “Light the tree,” said Francis.

  “Philip, please, you do it,” said his mother.

  Philip sighed, got down on his knees, and found the switch. Everything Francis wants . . . he grumbled to himself.

  Philip’s mother went on. “Francis tells me you were nice enough to take him to the mall. Thank you, Philip. Where were you now? You didn’t let Francis walk home alone, did you?”

  “No, we would never do that,” said Philip, casting Francis a glance. Francis had a candy cane stuck in his mouth and said nothing. “We stopped at Emery’s for a minute.”

  “What now?” asked Francis.

  The phone rang, and Mrs. Felton got up to answer it.

  “What now what?” Philip snapped.

  “Entertain me, you know. Your mother said.”

  “Why do you need so much entertaining? Emery, can get you another movie? How about a movie?” Philip suggested.

  Francis shrugged.

  Mrs. Felton came back into the living room.

  “That was Mrs. Moriarty on the phone. She wants you and Emery to stop over. Take Francis with you. I think she has something for you.”

  Philip knew Mrs. Moriarty always gave both him and Emery something for Christmas, usually a box of candy. A trip to visit her would be worth it.

  Philip looked at Francis. “You can stay here and watch the . . .”

  “No, I’m coming,” said Francis, and that settled the matter.

  A few minutes later, Philip knocked on Mrs. Moriarty’s front door.

  She greeted the boys with a cheery smile. “Come in; come in. Oh, we have a friend with us.”

  “He’s not my friend,” said Philip. “He’s my second cousin.”

  “Did you lose your first one?” Mrs. Moriarty giggled.

  Philip thought he’d like to lose his second one, but merely said, “No, he’s just my cousin.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Mrs. Moriarty. “Well, he can be your cousin and a friend, you know.”

  “He’s my cousin,” Philip repeated.

  “Oh. And how are you, Emery?”

  “Good.”

  “So introduce me to your cousin, Philip,” said Mrs. Moriarty.

  “His name is Francis,” said Philip.

  “And my name?” said Mrs. Moriarty, her eyebrows lifting.

  Philip frowned. “Your name is Mrs. Moriarty.”

  “I know my own name, Philip. Tell Francis.”

  “Oh. Her name is Mrs. Moriarty.”

  “I know,” said Francis. “You think I’m deaf?”

  “Anyway, I have something for both of you.” Mrs. Moriarty took two neatly wrapped boxes from the coffee table. “This one’s for you, Philip, and this is for you, Emery. Put them under the tree. No peeking until tomorrow. I didn’t know you were coming, Francis. I’m afraid I didn’t wrap a present for you.”

  “I’m used to it,” said Francis, eying a bowlful of junior-sized Three Musketeers on Mrs. Moriarty’s coffee table. “Can I have one?”

  “He likes candy canes,” said Philip.

  “I like them, too,” Francis quickly pointed out, his eyes still on the bowl of tiny Three Musketeers bars.

  “Sure you can, Francis. Take two.”

  “Sure,” Philip grumbled. “He gets six musketeers.”

  Francis happily obeyed.

  “Here, wait.” Mrs. Moriarty disappeared for a moment, and when she came back, she carried a box of candy canes. “This is my last box, but there are only six left. How about you take this as my Christmas gift to you? Or at least my half a gift.” Mrs. Moriarty handed Francis the box and chuckled.

  “They got whole presents,” said Francis, counting the candy canes inside the box.

  “Then why not take six more Three Musketeers to make up for the six missing candy canes?”

  Francis grabbed six tiny candy bars and put them into the candy cane box. He glared at Philip and said, “Six more musketeers.”

  Philip glared back.

  “I’ll stop by tomorrow to see what Santa brought you,” said Mrs. Moriarty cheerily.

  “I can already tell you,” said Francis. “Underwear, socks, shirts, pencils . . .”

  “You know already?” Mrs. Moriarty asked.

  Philip tried to explain. “He’s got a problem getting toys for Christmas.”

  “What’s the problem?” Mrs. Moriarty asked.

  “I don’t get any is the problem,” said Francis.

  “Maybe Santa will surprise you this year,” said Mrs. Moriarty.

  “Ha!” Francis cried.

  “We have to go,” said Philip, worried about what Francis might do next.

  “Thanks for stopping by. Merry Christmas,” said Mrs. Moriarty as she walked them to her front door. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As the boys walked away, Philip said to Emery, “Stop and get a movie.”

  The boys stopped at Emery’s house, and Emery dug out a video and showed it to Francis.

  “You’ll like this one,” he said.

  Francis inspected it. “The Mouse . . . What’s that word?”

  “Detective. It’s a mystery. You’ll like it.”

  “You already told me.”

  Emery shrugged. “Well, you will.”

  Emery’s mother stepped into view. “No more going out, Emery. Dinner soon and your cousin Leon’ll be stopping over.”

  Emery moaned. Trading a Francis for a Leon was no Christmas treat.

  Philip took Francis back home and cued up the movie. A quiet two hours passed b
y.

  Mr. Felton went out and brought home a pizza for dinner since his wife said she was too busy getting things ready to cook Christmas dinner for six the next day. The family ate quietly at the kitchen table.

  Mrs. Felton said, “Your mom and dad will be back tomorrow. Excited, Francis?”

  “I’ve seen them before,” said Francis.

  Mrs. Felton cleared her throat. “Excited about Christmas, I mean?”

  “Why?”

  “For presents and the general Christmas spirit.”

  “I get junk presents. You saw.”

  “Oh, yes. You opened them already, didn’t you? Well, we’ll have a nice dinner . . .”

  “Pizza’s a nice dinner,” said Francis. “I don’t get any at home. Thank you.”

  “Oh!” Philip’s mother could not hide her shock at Francis’s gratitude. “You’re very welcome.”

  To Philip, Francis said, “Now what?”

  Philip moaned. “Let’s watch TV.”

  “I want to watch a movie.”

  Mrs. Felton said, “Emery’s given you lots of movies to watch.”

  “I saw them already.”

  “Show him your movies, Philip,” said Mrs. Felton.

  “Mom!” Philip cried.

  “Well, why not? I don’t know why you have to go to Emery’s house every time you want a movie.”

  “You have movies?” Francis said softly.

  “He’s got lots of movies, Francis,” said Mrs. Felton. “Show him, Philip.”

  Francis glared at Philip, who nibbled intently on his pizza crust.

  Philip’s parents got up from the table and started to clean up.

  Philip’s mother shooed him. “Go, you two. Into the living room. I’ll make some popcorn later.”

  The two boys walked into the living room, Philip keeping his eyes straight ahead.

  “You have movies?” Francis repeated when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “A couple.”

  “Show me.”

  “Why don’t we just watch one of Emery’s?”

  Francis made an about face and went back into the kitchen. Philip heard him say, “Does Philip have games and toys we can play with?”

  His mother’s voice answered. “Oh, tons of things. Ask him. He’ll show you.”

  Francis stepped out of the kitchen, and his gaze met Philip’s. Francis looked away and walked to the staircase. Without saying a word, he went up, holding onto the bannister. Philip heard a door close above. He went into the living room and turned on the TV.