Joe was coming to the fast conclusion that he hated the whole Secret Santa idea.
He had no idea what to get girls — well, okay, Kris was a girl, but she didn't count. She liked cool stuff like he and Frank did, even if some of it was spooky and weird. But real girls? Regular girls, who giggled and squealed and talked in those whispery huddles while making puppy-eyes at the boys?
Kris wouldn't be any help. Joe didn't dare ask Chet, who was Iola's brother — Joe definitely didn't want any word to get back to Iola that he was her Secret Santa. At least, not until the day they were supposed to reveal it. Joe did not want Iola giggling and googly-eyeing him and getting all the wrong ideas.
He finally settled on stuffing a bag full of Christmas chocolates for the first surprise, all wrapped in bright Santa- and Christmas-tree-printed foil. Monday morning, he got lucky — Iola's locker was unlocked. Joe was able to drop the bag into it before anyone saw him…except Sharon. Sharon had just shut Joe's locker, saw Joe coming up, and reddened.
Well, that was okay. Sharon knew anyway.
"That's for Kris?" Joe said quietly — other kids were running through the hall now — and Sharon nodded. "Let me check her locker real quick, and you can move it. She didn't walk to school with us, for some reason." It was the work of a moment to open Kris's locker and check to make sure nothing nasty was in it — no baby powder, no sour milk — then he slipped Sharon's small wrapped box onto Kris's locker shelf.
Then Joe saw another wrapped box on his own shelf, bright green patterned with red holly berries, with his name on it.
He looked at Sharon, who blushed again. "Um, it was already there," Sharon mumbled. "I — uh — didn't see who."
Joe sighed. "I know." She'd had Iola before he'd traded her, after all, not him, and they weren't supposed to tell if they found out who other people's were. But that meant that whoever had his name also knew his locker combination, or they'd bribed Frank. Thinking that over, Joe got his math books and binder for first period, grabbed the box, and moved a ways down the hall, keeping an eye on Kris's locker to make sure none of Angie's crowd messed with it.
But Frank and Callie showed up, and settled near the lockers, talking — there was an idea. Maybe Joe could ask Callie about what girls liked for Christmas. Then Frank caught his brother's eye and nodded at Kris's locker, and Joe went on to homeroom.
"I saw you at Kris's house yesterday," Joe said to Sharon, as he slid into his seat. She sat right in front of him.
Sharon nodded. "You didn't tell me her mom was an Indian. And she's got all these great books on ghosts and stuff!"
That sounded promising. "Kris's adopted. Mar's from the Arizona reservation. Kris got to go there this summer and now she's got all these aunts and uncles who are all Indians, too," Joe added, jealous. "She got me and Frank all kinds of cool stuff."
"She told me." Sharon looked wistful. "You think they allow visitors?"
"Uh-huh. Mar wanted to take me and Frank along, but Dad said not this year. Maybe next year."
"Joe!" Kris came in, right over to his desk; she looked flushed and happy, clutching books and the little wrapped box. "You won't believe it — I just told Frank. Mar got a phone call this morning, that's why I didn't walk with you guys. But Charlie's got leave. He's coming in for Christmas and spending a whole month with us!"
That was totally killer news! "He is? Wow!"
Kris was bouncing on her feet. "Yeah. He just finished his second tour of duty, and they offered him a thirty-day leave if he signed up for another 'Nam tour. He's taking it — he told Shimá that he's up for promotion when he gets back."
"Who's Charlie?" Sharon said.
"Mar's son," Joe said, with hushed reverence. "He's a fighter pilot." Joe had seen a lot of old movies on World War Two flying aces, and he imagined Charlie a lot like Michael Caine in Battle for Britain.
"He's in 'Nam," Kris said. "He's lots older than me. I've never met him, but he sounds really nice. I told him about you and Frank and he said he can't wait to meet his new kid brothers."
"Really?" An Air Force fighter pilot, a real Indian warrior, wanting to meet him and Frank? Calling them his new kid brothers? Joe felt like his grin would split his head in half; he barely heard Miss Hawkins call them all to order for the Pledge and to take attendance.
Wendy poking him in the back brought him back to earth with a mental thump, as she passed him a red envelope marked "TOP SECRET!" in Kris's heavy-handed printing and a horribly-drawn skull and crossbones on it. Joe blinked, then quickly hid the envelope as Miss Hawkins walked by his desk. Somehow he waited until the homeroom bell rang, then looked around for Kris.
She still sat at her desk, staring at the little wrapped box from Sharon, now unwrapped. Joe couldn't see what it was — something that glittered in a patch of sunlight on her desk — but Kris looked up at him, openly stunned.
He grinned at her, but ducked out of the room before she could get any ideas or ask him any questions. The note was itching at him, and he tore it open. Folded inside was yellow goldenrod paper, with smudgy type-written letters:
++ TOP SECRET ++ HIGHLY IMPORTANT ++ CLASSIFIED ++
++ YOUR MISSION, IF YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT ++
Valuable objects are vanishing without a trace. No one knows how. Report to Mrs. Edna Bell at Bell Book And Candle for full mission details. If you or Frank get caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions.
THIS MESSAGE WILL SELF-DESTRUCT 10 SECONDS AFTER YOU READ IT.
Now Joe was grinning; Mission Impossible was his and Frank's favorite show. Dad always let them stay up late on Saturday night to watch with him, with a big bowl of popcorn, Dad with his beer, Frank and Joe with root beers — Saturday night was Dad's night to goof off with his sons, and he never, ever, let anything interfere with it.
Further down the page, in a smaller, barely-legible handwritten scrawl:
(Merry Christmas, Big Brother! This is your early Christmas gift. Enjoy the mystery! Kris)
Then, to his shock, the paper started to smoke — he let go just in time, as it went up in a quick burst of sparks, just like flash paper.
"You got your marching orders, too?" Frank said, from behind him.
"How did she do that?" Joe stared at the ashes as they drifted in the air currents. His classmates were pointing, whispering.
"The tagalong and her magic tricks," Frank said. "She won't tell, you know that. Some chemical reaction from body heat, I bet."
Now Joe started to grin again, and walked with Frank along the hall. "I can't wait. Bell Book and Candle? What do you think's going on?"
"Tag claims it's haunted," Frank said. "Maybe it's the ghost."
"Maybe Mrs. Bell found out all those books melted your brain and it's really a trap to take you away to the funny farm." With that, Joe and Frank got into a brief mock-shoving match, then Joe ran to get to his math class. Only then did he remember the wrapped package.
He plopped down in his desk, pulled the package out of his book bag and opened it…and sat back, staring in disbelief.
Old Spice Aftershave…?
That made absolutely no sense. He was nowhere close to shaving, not that he wanted to. It seemed like nothing but a lot of hassle, and besides, all the cool musicians wore beards.
He hated the smell of Old Spice, on top of that. Uncle Jack wore it, and wore it too heavy. Between that and the smell of whatever Uncle Jack had been drinking, Joe always kept at least two of the other uncles and aunts between him and Uncle Jack whenever there was a family get-together.
Joe scowled at the bottle. His Secret Santa was a loon, if they thought Joe wanted this stuff. Either that, or it was something meant to be funny — if that was it, Joe didn't get the joke — or just flat-out mean.
Just great. Just absolutely great. He'd gone to all the trouble of making sure Kris had a good Santa, and he'd only gotten the short-end of the stick in return.
Then Joe saw the gift tag, stuck to the inside of the wrapping paper, something hand-written in heavy black marker…and he went cold all over:
For you and your little whore girlfriend…