CHAPTER THREE: THE POLAR EXPRESS

It had begun to snow, and there was a fresh blanket of the fluffy white stuff on the ground. The toes of my boots instantly were covered with newly fallen snowflakes, and I was shivering because of the cold.

But I didn't notice.

Because there, on my street, in front of my house, was a huge, black train.

"Oh, my God," I said to myself, walking up to it. How had this…machine gotten there? Whoever was driving must have been super drunk or something, because there were no tracks anywhere near my house. I shook my head in amazement as I stared up at the massive tank.

"ALL ABOARD!" a voice rang out in the night. I turned around. In the glow of the bright lights coming from inside the train, I could see the silhouette of someone standing further down the line of train cars. My feet having a mind of their own, I began to walk through the snow towards the person.

"ALL ABOARD!" the person called again.

I was finally close enough to see the person clearly. It was a man…a really, really tall man (to me, at least; I was short for my age). He was in a nice-looking suit and he had a hat on his head that said CONDUCTOR. He wore glasses and he had a mustache.

The whole time he stared at me, I was thinking, Okay…random creeper randomly comes to my house in a random train. Wow. What a bizarre dream. I really need to stop eating cold pizza before I go to bed.

"Well…" the man said, interrupting my thoughts. "You coming?"

I looked at him. "What? Coming where?"

"Why to the North Pole, of course!" the man said, projecting his voice as if there was a whole crowd of people listening to him. "This is the Polar Express!"

Oh, no.

Not this AGAIN.

I stared at him. "Do you think I'm some sort of idiot?" I asked him. "Do you think I'd be so stupid and delirious to believe that this is some magic train that's going to take me to the North Pole?" I started laughing. "Wow!" I said between breaths. "You are so bizarre! Dude, did my dad call you or something? Did he seriously have you come here to make me believe in some stupid, silly train? Oh, my God!"

The man stood patiently, not saying anything. I stopped laughing and realized that my dad mustn't have called him. Which meant…this guy was for real.

"Oh, crap, you're serious," I said.

The man continued to stare at me. "Hold on a minute." He picked up a clipboard sitting on the steps leading up to the nearest train car and held it out to me. "This is you, right?"

I looked at the piece of paper. Only one name was on it.

Mine.

"If I answer no, will you leave me alone?"

"No."

"Fine. Yeah, that's me."

"Well…it says here that you've despised Christmas ever since you were little. You've never enjoyed the holidays and always celebrated when they were over." He put the clipboard back and looked at me again.

"Yeah, so?" I asked. "Is there a problem with that?"

"I don't know," he said. "Is it a problem for you?"

"If you mean Christmas, then, yes, it is a problem. I mean…there's just something about it that I cannot stand! Everyone's so happy, and everyone has the lights and the bows and the trees and all that jazz. And…I don't know, I guess I never really had it in me to enjoy that."

The man sighed. "Young lady," he said, "this train is a very special train. It doesn't come around every year, you know. And this was one of those years. But do you know why I'm breaking the rules and coming to your house?"

I shook my head.

"Because I guarantee you that by the end of tonight, you will believe in the Christmas Spirit like every other child who's ridden this train."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure. Let's go with that. You know what? I'll save you all the trouble of using the train this year. You can take it right back where it came from and wait till the next year it's scheduled to run." I turned around and started walking back to my house.

The man shook his head. "Like father, like daughter, I suppose."

I stopped and turned around. "What did you just say?"

"I said, 'Like father, like daughter'."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You mean he never told you?"

"Well…yeah, he told me," I said, walking back over. "I mean…yeah, Dad told me about the train and how he rode it and blah, blah, blah."

"He ever tell you he was just like you?"

My eyes widened. "No."

The man nodded.

"Get out. Dad was just like me?"

"Yep. The year he rode this train, he had the same doubts as you."

"No way! Dad was never like that! He's too…I don't know, full of Christmas Spirit or whatever. He's always believed. I know he has. You are SO full of baloney, man."

"You don't believe me? Well, then, see for yourself." He stepped aside, making way for me to climb the steps.

"Okay…I don't get it," I said.

"You don't believe me? Well, I can give you proof. As soon as you step foot on this train, you and I will be transported back in time to the night your father rode this train. I will not remember you until the whole experience is over. And fair warning: if you call him 'Dad', he'll know. And it will freak him out. So please…don't do that."

"You serious?" I asked. "You want me to get on the train?"

"Yes."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. You know, you're lucky I'm in such a generous mood."

Little did I know what I was getting myself into.