Crossword

"I don't wanna!"

"Tough! You're doing it!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"That's not even the real Santa!" six-year old Sam pouted, crossing her arms firmly as she glared up at her mother. "It's a fat man in a costume and fake beard!"
"Well then pretend it's your Uncle Ralph!" Pam Puckett exclaimed.

"No! He's gross and weird!"

"Look kid, it's Christmas, and Christmas is a time for doing stupid junk like getting your picture taken with a sweaty, fat, Santa!" Pam said. "I need something to send in the Christmas cards this year other than my new mug shots. Besides, that fake Santa is one of the helper guys or…something. Point is he tells the real guy whatever you tell him."

"But the real Santa never gets me what I want either," Sam moaned. "Last year I asked for roller skates and all I got was a jump rope and a box of crayons."

Pam's face faltered slightly. "Well, um…Santa…Santa sometimes has to make, um, price cuts for some kids…it's-it's all politics."
"Why? I thought he's magic," Sam pointed out. "Can't he just-"

"Alright, there's the line," Pam said quickly, leading her daughter over to the massive group of people standing in front of the Santa's Village scene set up in the middle of the mall's food court. "Huh…this seems like it could take awhile. Alright, tell you what. You stand here and wait, and I'll be back in a few minutes. Let's hope the line at the tattoo parlor isn't as bad as this."

Sam watched as her mother disappeared into the sea of shoppers. She then turned and looked back at the long line of children jumping up and down as if this was the most exciting place on Earth.

This looks stupid, Sam thought to herself, cringing as she saw a young boy spit up a few spaces ahead of her in line. There's no way I'm standing around with these freaks. I'm out of here.

She stepped out of line, looking around for someplace she could go to get away from the crowd. As she started to walk through the food court, Sam pulled out a sheet of paper from her pocket. It was the Christmas list that she had made last night, when, for some reason, she seemed to think that the idea of seeing Santa Clause at the mall seemed fun.

She unfolded the sheet and stared down at the single item written on it.

I don't Santa would bring me this anyway, Sam thought sadly. That guy never listens.

"For the millionth time, Marissa, it's a mall, not a war zone! I don't need to have him on that leach thing, it will humiliate him. He's six years old, when are you going to realize he's not a baby?"

Freddie Benson looked up at his dad, who had been talking with his mother on his cellphone for the past ten minutes.

"Dad," he said, pulling on his father's sleeve. "Dad, I want to see Santa. You promised!"

"In a minute," his father said quickly. "Your mother seems to think I'm incapable of taking you to the mall on my own because I don't have you sewn to my side…No, Marissa, I didn't bring the sunscreen; it's December! He's not going to get a sunburn!"

Freddie sighed as he rested his chin on the table that him and his father were sitting at. This was supposed to a special treat; his dad taking him to the mall to see Santa Clause…what more could a kid want, after all? But of course, the whole thing had to be ruined by his parents fighting once again. Apparently now they didn't even need to be near each other to fight.

All they do is yell at each other now, Freddie thought to himself, staring longingly at the line of families waiting to meet Santa, where the parents were laughing amongst each other instead of yelling.

Freddie glanced back up at his father, who was still immersed in his phone conversation.

"So you're saying I'm an irresponsible father now?" he said into his phone. "Well you're a neurotic mother! How about you stop sanitizing the entire house and actually have some fun with Freddie for once?"
"Dad?" Freddie said. "Dad, can-"

"Just a minute," he said, waving his son off. "Marissa, we've been over this! When are you going to stop acting like the world is out to get you? You're not happy unless Freddie is by your side doing crosswords! For crying out loud, let him have some freedom!"

The line's going to be so long by the time they stop fighting, Freddie thought sadly. Maybe I should go save us a space.

His father seemed to wrapped up in his conversation to even notice when he pushed back his chair and slowly started over to Santa's Village. As he approached the line, though, he suddenly noticed a small girl with long, blonde hair about his age walking around by herself too. Freddie watched her for a moment, wondering where her mom or dad was.

As the girl reached the back of the Santa's Village display, though, she suddenly got down on her hands and knees and crawled underneath the platform where the scene was set up.

She shouldn't be doing that, Freddie said. That could be dangerous…but I wonder what's back there.

Freddie looked back over his shoulder at his father, who didn't even seem to notice he was gone yet. I'll just see what she's doing really quickly, Freddie told himself, hurrying after the mysterious girl. Then I'll go back to the line.

When he reached the back of Santa's Village, he looked around for the opening he had seen the girl craw through, spotting it right by a discarded candy cane prop. Knowing his mom would have a fit if she ever found out about this, Freddie crouched down and crawled through.

"Hello?" he called out, squinting in the dark.

He saw the girl at once, sitting cross-legged on the ground, digging into a large candy bar. She looked up at him, startled by his intrusion.

"Who are you?" she demanded immediately. "This is my spot."

"I-I don't think you're supposed to be here," Freddie said. "You might get in trouble."

"Are you the boss of the mall?" the girl sneered.

"What's your name?" Freddie asked.

"It's Sa-None of your business!" she said. "And if you think I'm going to get in trouble for being here, why don't you get out of here and leave me alone?"

"Is there anything back here?" Freddie asked.

The girl shook her head. "No. I thought there be something cool, like extra presents, but nothing. But that's okay. I just wanted to get away from that stupid Santa thing out there."

Freddie's eyes widened. "You think Santa's stupid?"

"Well what's so special about him?" she shrugged. "He breaks into your house and eats your cookies. My Aunt Daphne went to prison for doing the same exact thing!"

"But he gives you presents!" Freddie said.

The girl scoffed. "Yeah? Well he never brings me anything I ask for."

"Well maybe you're on the Naughty List," Freddie reasoned.

The girl shot him a glare before kicking him hard in the shins. "Hey! I am not on the Naughty List!"

"Ow!" Freddie exclaimed.

"Oh calm down."

"Well, you know, Santa can't always give you everything you want," Freddie told her, massaging his leg. "Last year I asked for a remote control airplane and I just got a book about airplanes instead. It was pretty cool, but then my mom took it away because she was afraid I'd get a paper cut."

"Last year I asked for roller skates," the girl told him. "I got a jump rope. The year before that I asked for an art kit. I got a box of staples. The year before that I asked for a pet fish and I got a bag of those fish crackers."

"Whoa," Freddie said, his eyes widening. "That's bad."

"The fish crackers were good, at least," she shrugged. "Anyway, there's only thing I want this year, and I already know this Santa jerk isn't going to give it to me."
"Well what do you want?" Freddie asked.

"Why should I tell you?"

"I'll tell you what I'm going to ask Santa for," Freddie replied.

"I don't care what you ask Santa for," the girl said, rolling her eyes. "Hey…do you think he's even real?"

"What? Of course he's real!" Freddie said. "I-I know that the Santa out there is just one of his helpers, but the real guy is in the North Pole."

"Have you ever seen him?"

"Well…no," Freddie admitted. "But-But my mom and dad tell me he's real."

"Parents can lie," the girl mumbled.

"No they can't," Freddie said firmly. "That's why they're parents."

"You're telling me your parents have always told you the total truth?" the girl said, raising an eyebrow. "They've never told you something that you knew they were just making up."

Freddie thought about all the times he'd walk out of his room when they were in the middle of yet another argument, only to tell him that everything was fine when he'd ask what's wrong.

"They wouldn't lie about something this big," Freddie said. "You know, maybe this is why Santa never gives you what you ask for; because you don't believe in him."

"I-I never said I don't believe in him," the girl mumbled. "I just said he might not be real. Besides, I don't think it makes a difference. Like I said; I'm not going to get my gift."

"Well…if you tell me I can tell Santa when I go see his helper," Freddie offered. "If two people ask him maybe you'll get it."

"You-You think?" the girl asked, perking up.

"Sure," Freddie nodded.

"Well…okay," the girl agreed. "When you talk to Santa's helper, tell him…tell him I really, really want my sister to come back home."

"Your sister?" Freddie repeated.

"She's my best friend," the girl told him. "We look the same, but she's the nicer one and the cleaner one and everybody's favorite. And she's so smart that she got to move away to a boarding school to live at, so now she's gone. We used to play together all day, and now all I have at home is my mom, and she usually just sleeps and talks to her boyfriends all day."

Freddie looked down at his lap. He knew how lonely it could get being at home by yourself all day.

"So you'll tell Santa that, right?" the girl asked. "Tell him that's all I want. I don't even care about any toys."

"I'll tell him," Freddie promised.

"Thanks," the girl said, giving him the first real smile he had seen from her. She held out a piece of her chocolate bar. "You want a piece?"

Freddie nodded at once. He never got to have sweets at home.

"So," the girl said, breaking Freddie off a piece. "What are you asking Santa for?"

"I thought you didn't care."

"I don't," the said quickly. "I'm just…curious."

"Well," Freddie said. "I-I'm asking if Santa can make my mom and dad can finally stop fighting."
The girl frowned. "What do they fight about?"

"Everything," Freddie sighed. "It's all they do anymore. They're fighting when I wake up, when I get back from school, when I go to sleep…I just want them to stop and go back to how they used to be."

"My mom and dad used to fight a lot too," the girl said.

"Did they stop?" Freddie asked hopefully.

"Um…sort of," she replied. She stuffed the last of her chocolate bar in her mouth. "I should go. My mom's probably done at the tattoo parlor by now."

"Yeah," Freddie said. "Maybe my dad finally noticed I left."

The two children crawled out from underneath the platform. As they got to their feet, though, they saw a large, round man with a white bushy beard standing by the steps that led up to Santa's village, drinking a latte. As the two emerged, the man looked over at them.

"What were you two kids doing under there?" he asked. "You know that's not place for children."

"We-We were just leaving," Freddie said quickly. "And-And we're not supposed to talk to strangers!"

The man chuckled. "That's very good advice. I told my kids the same thing when they were your age." He let out a long sigh. "I was supposed to meet my kids here today to see my grandkids get their pictures taken with Santa Clause. Unfortunately, my daughter decided to spend the holidays in Greece with her family, and my son's spending them in France with his. I spent all morning picking out the perfect presents for my grandkids too…but I suppose now I'll have to return them. Unless…"

A small smile appeared on his face as he picked up the large bag next to. "Have you two been good this year?"

"Yes," the girl said at once, eying the bag excitedly.

"Well," the man laughed, reaching into the bag and pulling out a brand new pair of roller skates. "Then these are for you."

"Whoa!" Sam gasped, accepting the skates. "They're the kind I've always wanted! Thanks!"

"You're welcome," the man said kindly. "And for you, young man, I don't know if you're a fan of airplanes, but…"

He pulled out a large remote control airplane kit and handed it to Freddie.

"Neat!" Freddie exclaimed. "This is best kind there is! Thanks!"

"You're welcome," the man chuckled. "Now, you two should get on back to your parents. But have a merry Christmas."

And with that, the man turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"Hey…" Freddie said slowly. "Do you think he looked a little like-"

"Santa?" the girl finished. "Whoa…he is real! I knew it!"

"I have to go tell my dad!" Freddie said excitedly. He looked over his shoulder and saw his father sitting at the table in the middle of the food court, still on his phone.

"I see my mom over there," the girl told him, pointing to a woman who was leaning against a potted plant, eating from a bucket of fried chicken.

"Well," Freddie said. "I-I guess this is goodbye. I hope Santa brings your sister back home for you."

"I hope he makes your parents stop fighting," the girl said. "Too bad I'll never see you again to find out."

"Well…we might see each other again," Freddie reasoned.

"Nah, Seattle's a big city," the girl said. "There's no way we'd run into each other again."

….

Twenty-seven years later

"Did you buy out the entire toy store?" Freddie chuckled, amused as he stood in the middle of his attic, watching his wife bring out bags and bags of toys to set out under the Christmas tree.

"Shut up," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "Since when is it a crime to make sure my kids have an amazing Christmas?"

"It's not," Freddie said, picking up a bag filled with doll clothes and art supplies. "I happen to think it's nice that you're always so into Christmas like this. But this seems kind of excessive, even for you."
"Yeah, well, I think this is the last year Jason's going to believing in Santa Clause," Sam sighed. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he already knows and he's just putting on a show for us. But either way, I want his last Christmas believing to go out with a bang."

"Yeah," Freddie agreed. "You know the other day he told me that he did the math, and he found out Santa would have to visit over two thousand homes a second to get to everybody before Christmas morning."

"Great!" Sam snapped. "Look what you teaching him all that science did! What did you tell him when he told you that?"

"I-I was caught off guard!" Freddie defended. "I told him that Santa has this special sleigh that lets him defy the rules of physics."

"He bought that?"

"Well he said he did," Freddie said. "I'm sorry, baby. But-But he's eleven. He wasn't going to believe for forever."

"I know," Sam sighed.

"How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa?" Freddie asked.

"I dunno," Sam shrugged as Freddie helped her get down a large toy racetrack. "I was always kind of skeptical, I guess. I mean, I never understood why Santa left all the other kids in my neighborhood a whole bunch of stuff, and all I ever got was one dinky little gift that was barely a gift at all. With my mom not working most of the time, she didn't have the money to paint the allusion as well as all the other parents. That's why I like to make sure that our kids always have the best Christmas ever…I'm so glad that we can make sure that they never feel as disappointed as I did on Christmas day."

Freddie smiled, leaning down to give her a quick kiss. "They're really lucky," he said.

"I was actually pretty convinced that Santa did exist though, at one point," Sam continued. "Of course it only lasted a few days, but still."

"What happened?" Freddie asked.

"Well, I was at the mall one day, and I was hiding out near that Santa's Village thing they always have set up in the food court," Sam told him. "There was some other kid there too…Anyway, I had been telling this kid about how I never really got much for Christmas and all of the sudden, this guy who, I swear, looks exactly like Santa, shows up and just hands me the roller skates I has asked for the year before! I thought it was clear-cut proof that Santa was real."

"Really?" Freddie said.

"Yeah, I know, it's silly," Sam shrugged. "But-"

"No, Freddie said slowly. "It's not that. It's just…something like that happened to me too. I was hanging around Santa's Village at the mall too, talking to a little girl about my age, and this man who had the Santa beard and belly gave me this remote control airplane that I had wanted the year before."
Sam frowned. "Remote control airplane?"

"Yeah," Freddie nodded. "Actually, that same man gave the other little girl a pair of roller-no! No way!"

"Oh my God!" Sam gasped. "That boy…that was you?"

"And you were that little girl?" Freddie exclaimed in disbelief.

"Holy chiz…" Sam said softly. "I don't believe it. What-What are the odds?"

"You wanted Melanie to come back from boarding school," Freddie said. "Did-Did that happen?"

"Nah," Sam replied. "That's kind of when I stopped believing for good. I figured if even after a lead up like that, I still couldn't get the thing I asked for, either Santa was a real sleazebag, or he was fake. But…But you…you-you wanted your parents to stop fighting."

"That's right," Freddie sighed.

"And they didn't," Sam whispered gently. "Did they?"

"The week before Christmas is when they told me they were getting divorced," Freddie replied.

"So neither of us got what we wanted for Christmas I guess," Sam said heavily.

"Well," Freddie said. "I wouldn't say that's entirely true. You know how I promised you I'd ask Santa to bring your sister home for Christmas while I was telling him what I wanted?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Well, I added one other thing to my list," Freddie said. "I told Santa I wanted to see you again."

"You did?"

"Uh-huh," Freddie said. "Course I thought that request was a bust just like the one about my parents not fighting but…but I guess it turns out Santa finally delivered for me. I got to see you again."

"Yes, you did," Sam laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.