A/N: Thanks for the reviews & follows, everyone! To answer the questions: "Shimá" is Navajo for "Mom" or "my mother", when the speaker is the daughter or son — Navajo words change based on the relationship of the speaker to the person in question. Kris doesn't know Navajo, just the family words; she uses "shimá" because of all the baggage she has with the word "Mama", due to the abuse her original parents put her through.

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She hadn't seen that, she hadn't, she hadn't!

Trembling under an overwhelming surge of betrayal and fear, Kris fled to her room, to her closet, slammed the door behind her so hard that the door nearly went off the track, and burrowed into the mound of blankets and pillows she'd piled inside it.

Kris knew Angie and her crowd didn't like her; she expected trouble from them. But to turn a holiday that everyone kept saying was all about peace and love into something mean and evil…

Into what Mama and Papa had always claimed it was.

Huddling in the dark of her closet, Kris gave in to tears and shock. Whore was what Mama and Papa had called her. That was all she was good for, Papa had said, because of the sin of Eve. That was what they had been saving her from, not that Papa ever included himself in that saving.

But Iola liked Joe. She wouldn't do that to him, would she? Unless someone else had gotten into Joe's locker…

Bright, wonderful evening with two new friends and Frank and Joe, ruined, totally ruined.

"Tag?" Frank's voice sounded like he was in her doorway, then, when she didn't answer, he moved closer. "It's me and Joe." Noises right outside the closet door, the brothers settling down onto the carpet.

"There's no one out here, Tag," Joe said, from the other side of the closet door. "We won't let anyone hurt you."

Wiping at her face, Kris cracked the closet door open, just enough to see Joe and the bottom of Frank's socks.

"Hey," Joe said to her. Leaning back against her dresser, he picked at a piece of lint on the carpet. "What happened?"

"You recognized it," Frank said, muffled a bit by the closet door.

Kris shook her head hard.

"We know you didn't do it," Joe said. "But if you know who did, Dad wants to make 'em stop."

"I don't know," Kris whispered, hugging the pillows tight. "I don't know, I don't know!" She did know, that was the problem. They wouldn't believe her, because Iola was Chet's sister, and Chet was their best friend. They'd call Kris a liar, just like Mama and Papa had, just like the cops and social workers and doctors had, just like everyone else had…

"What don't you know?" Frank always sounded so grown up, so calm.

She only shook her head harder, still hugging the pillows.

"Hey," Joe said, "c'mon, Tag. We'll believe you, no matter what."

"Except for ghosts and fairies," Frank said.

"Well, yeah. But even then, we know you see something. We just don't agree on what it is." Joe's voice turned fierce. "Whoever put that in my locker's just mean. I'll believe you over them any day."

"But…but I know your combination," Kris said, fighting back tears. "They had to know it, so you'll blame me and I didn't!"

"Tag, c'mon," Frank said. "You wouldn't do something like that."

"They probably stole it off Sharon. I…uh…gave her my combination to help her with her Santa." Joe picked at the carpet again. "Dad's gonna have us change all our locks."

"Is that why you're scared?" Frank said. "You think we'll get mad at you?"

Shaking her head, Kris closed her eyes, rocked back and forth. Breathe. Focus on where you're at. "That word. The bad one. Papa used to…used to call…" She had to stop, swallowed hard, hugged the pillow harder.

Silence. She saw Joe looking towards his brother.

"A lot of adults use that word," Frank said. "I mean, the Pentecostals were out front of City Hall last week, and Preacher Bob was using it. And a lot of guys wear Old Spice."

"Uncle Jack does," Joe said.

"Uh-huh," Frank said. "So that doesn't mean that guy's here. Joe thought it might be Angie because of the girlfriend thing, but we couldn't figure out how she got in his locker."

Kris knew a way; she'd done it with Sharon's and Tina's lockers, after all. She'd found out Sharon was Gifted, so there were probably others. One in twenty, Mar had said, when Kris had asked. That's how many might have the potential. What if Angie was, too? Or one of her friends? What if they'd read her head and found out about Papa? That'd explain how they'd gotten into Joe's locker. What if she told about Iola and they found out and decided to get back at her?

Not that Frank and Joe would believe that. They just thought her Gift was 'magic tricks', like that Blackstone guy Mar had taken her to see last month.

"Is it okay if we tell Dad?" Joe said. "Dad can check with his NYPD buddies and see if that man's still in San Francisco. He did that when we were kidnapped last year."

Still not looking at him, Kris nodded.

"I'll check it for fingerprints, too," Joe said. "I'm gonna get the kit and we can print Sharon and even Tina."

As if that would help. If it was Angie's crowd, they outnumbered Kris easily. Even though they were girls and only sixth graders, Angie was pretty big. Fingerprints wouldn't protect Kris, no matter what Joe thought.

"Boys." Mar's voice, from somewhere near the doorway. "Let me talk to her alone, please."

Rustling sounds, as the brothers got to their feet. Kris heard Joe say something quiet to Mar, but Frank knelt in front of the door-crack and reached through, just enough to touch Kris's arm.

"We're your big brothers, Tag," Frank said, his eyes intense-blue, adult-serious. "We won't let anyone hurt you. That's what big brothers are for. Promise."

"Thank you," Kris whispered.

After the brothers left, Mar eased to sit right on the other side of the cracked-open closet door. There was the scratch of a match being lit, followed by the sweet smell of burning tobacco leaf.

"Beauty is before you," Mar said quietly. "Beauty is behind you. Beauty is below you. Beauty is above you. May it be beautiful all around you."

An invocation from the Navajo Night Chant, one of the major medicine ceremonies. Tears trickled down Kris's face again as she hugged the pillow tighter. Mar wasn't a medicine person, but her father was, and she'd picked up a lot from him.

"You're safe here, little squirrel," Mar said, still quiet, gentle, calm. "No one will hurt you."

Easy for her to say. Kris couldn't look at her.

"Soon you will be a woman." Mar eased into a more comfortable position, and set the bundle of tobacco leaf down into an abalone shell she'd brought upstairs. "Children must run, for they are not big nor strong enough to prevail, and running ensures they survive. But a woman must be brave. A woman must act with honor. To run from a shadow, from mere words on paper…" Mar's voice trailed off.

Kris hung her head.

Mar reached through the open crack and touched Kris's hand. "You were hurt badly. That you survived tells of your courage. But one who has been through what you have often has trouble telling a shadow from a true beast. Shadows can look like monsters, if one expects monsters behind every bush."

"I know who Joe's Secret Santa is." Kris's voice shook.

"Does that knowledge scare you?"

Nodding, Kris settled, breathing in the scent of the sweet smoke. "That word. Papa…Papa would call me that. Just…before…I mean…whenever he…" She had to stop. Breathe. She had to breathe. "And he wore Old Spice."

"You're scared he's here in Bayport."

"I don't know, I don't know. It makes no sense, Shimá." Great, now she sounded like Frank. "If it is, why Joe? Papa wouldn't know who Joe is."

"Likely it's not that man," Mar said. "From San Francisco to Bayport is an expensive move, just to chase down a child. Especially for such as those people."

Mar's calm helped Kris calm down, helped her think. "We're nothing but white trash," Papa had ranted whenever he was drunk, "poor white trash good for nothing but making more trash." Poor was an understatement; they'd lived wherever Papa and Mama had been able to guilt-trip the landlords whenever Papa had an all-too-infrequent job, or they'd just move into an empty flat and squat there, until they were found out.

Kris took another deep breath. "Iola has Joe's name. She's his Santa. And that makes no sense, either, Shimá."

That frown deepened. Uh-oh.

"It can't be her, it can't." Kris tightened her grip on the pillow. "She likes Joe. She talked with me after school. Sharon was there, she can tell you, too. Iola wanted help with what to get Joe and she wanted to get him nice stuff. I thought she did the Old Spice and I told her Joe hated it, but she didn't know what I was talking about."

"Fenton will talk to the Mortons, I'm sure," Mar said.

"No!" Kris caught herself and lowered her voice. "Shimá, if he does that, then Iola'll know I told, and it'll get back to Angie, and she'll —"

"…and you'll stand up to that spoiled brat and let it be known what she did. You tell everyone how she's trying to poison Christmas for a little handicapped girl. Evil thrives when people keep quiet, squirrel. Have you given no thought to how many others that brat may be bullying? What would happen if you all stood together?"

Kris looked down.

"You've already told Sharon and Joe," Mar said. "Did they get mad at you for it? I see both of them downstairs, having fun with Tina just as you are."

"Joe said he'd tell Frank."

"And Frank is down there, too. The world is full of decent people. Sometimes all they need is support behind them — knowing someone else feels the same as you do can be a powerful impetus." Mar stood, opened the closet, and held out her hand. "Come. You've hidden enough."

Kris looked up. Mar was wearing her Implacable Indian Warrior face. Kris swallowed hard, and took Mar's hand, let Mar help her up…then Mar enveloped her in a long, tight hug.

"It's okay to be scared, shiché'é." Mar rocked her back and forth, slow, warm, and comforting. "Being brave is being scared, but doing the right thing anyway."

Fighting not to cry, Kris said nothing, letting herself be rocked.

"You are brave, little squirrel. My brave little squirrel-daughter." Then there was a smile in Mar's voice. "Oh, and you certainly have my permission to spend the night at Bell Book and Candle with Frank and Joe."

"Huh?"

That Implacable-Warrior face stretched into a grin, as Mar released her. "They'll tell you."

Sometimes Mar could be annoying like that. But then Kris had a thought; she went over to the window sill where she kept all her Arizona crystals, and chose one of the larger ones that had a fairly stable base. "Shimá…do you think Shi cheii could send more crystals here before Christmas?"

"Call him tonight and ask. Or you can always wait until we go out there. I'm sure Tina wouldn't mind an after-New Year's gift." Then Mar tipped Kris's chin up to look directly in her face. "One other thing, my daughter. That man and woman are no longer your parents. They don't deserve any such title or respect from you. I'm your mother. That's what all that court stuff meant last year."

"But…"

"No buts," Mar said sternly. "Don't give them that power over you. No more 'Papa' or 'Mama' for them, hear? They're not." Then Mar smiled. "I'm a bit jealous that way."

That did it. Tears streaked her face again, and Kris threw her arms around Mar. "Shimá," Kris whispered.

"Shiché'é," Mar said, returning the hug. "Time to let the brave show, squirrel."

On the way back downstairs, Kris detoured to the bathroom to scrub her face with cold water so it wasn't so obvious she'd been crying, washed and dried the crystal to remove dust and fingerprints, then she rejoined the others. Sharon watched her, openly curious, but didn't say anything.

"Y-y-you…g-got sc-scared…K-Kris?" Tina said, as Kris sat back down next to her.

"I'm okay." Kris focused on the salt dough. She had Frank and Joe, her big brothers. They backed her against Angie; they knew about her original parents. For that matter, even Callie had smarted off to Angie that morning. And now Sharon, who'd joined in with giving Tina gifts to make up for Angie.

Shimá was right, Papa — no, no, the Joneses — couldn't afford to come all they way out here; the old junky station wagon would barely make it across town, let alone across the country. But that left a big question: who?

"I g-get sc-sc-scared, t-t-too," Tina said. "M-M-Mommy…hugs m-me and-and I'm…n-not sc-scared anymore. D-does y-your…m-m-mommy hug y-you?"

Kris nodded.

"Her mom's an Indian, Tina," Joe said. "Like Tonto and Tiger Lily."

Joe and his Indian-craziness. Kris mock-glared. "Don't let Shimá hear you say that. She'll scalp you. Tonto was Potawatomi, not Navajo."

"The actor was Mohawk," Frank said. "So that means Mar'll scalp you twice, Joe."

"Aunt Gertrude says I need a haircut anyway," Joe said.

"I…kn-know…h-h-ow t-to…sp-speak Indian." Tina held up a hand and screwed up her face like Big Chief in Peter Pan. "H-how! H-h-how!" She collapsed into more giggles.

Okay, probably not a good idea to let Shimá hear this conversation…

"Make that three scalps," Frank said, grinning. "'How' is from a Sioux word. That's what the encyclopedia said. I looked it up," he added, when Kris looked at him.

"Indians have different languages?" Sharon said.

Really not a good idea to let Shimá hear this conversation. "Four scalps," Kris said, to Frank.

"The Navajo don't take scalps." Joe stuck his tongue out. "So there. We're safe."

"We most certainly did," Mar said, from the hallway, and that got a group eep as everyone jumped; she and Aunt Gertrude carried cookie sheets for the first round of the Nativity figures, and helped set the figures carefully in place. But Mar eyed Joe speculatively. "If you behave, maybe I'll show you my collection later."

"Oh, heavens, Mar, don't give him any more ideas," Aunt Gertrude said, as they carried the cookie sheets back into the kitchen.

Silence.

"Does she really…?" Joe said in an awed voice, to Kris.

Kris schooled her face into her best Implacable-Indian-Warrior-Mar imitation and scowled at him.

"H-h-how!" Tina said again, and made the Big Chief face back at Kris. "H-how!"

"Someone's going to get added to the collection, if you're not careful," Frank said.

"Anyway," Joe went on, to Kris, "Dad said he'll talk to my Secret Santa's mom and dad. Sharon told him back in the garden room, but Dad won't tell us. He doesn't think it's that person."

"It's not," Sharon said, then blushed when Joe looked at her. But Sharon kept watching Kris.

Kris kept her gaze down. She and Mar were going to have to find some way to teach Sharon a little control in her Gift. "Here," Kris said, handing the crystal to Tina. "It's your Nativity scene, so it needs a pretty rock, right?"

Tina's face lit up. "W-we…c-c-can…p-p-put an-an angel on it!"

"We've got a couple bags of glitter," Frank said. "We made our own Christmas cards and had a lot left over. We could put that all over the angels. I'll go get it." He got up, then smacked Joe lightly on the head. "Don't forget to tell 'em about Bell Book and Candle."

"I didn't!" Joe protested, but Frank was already out the front door.

"Bell Book and Candle?" Sharon said.

Joe nodded. By the time Frank came back with the glitter (silvery, sparkly stuff he called 'diamond dust'), Joe had told them all about the mystery and what Mrs. Bell wanted, and then, unexpectedly…

"Mrs. Bell thinks it's the ghost," Frank said, as he handed the glittery bag to Tina. "So Joe asked if you could come along, too, Tag. You and Sharon, if you both want. Me and Joe'll look for the real thief, and you and Sharon can look for the ghost. Um…" Joe looked at Tina, "Mrs. Bell didn't want any more people there, sorry."

"What?" Kris said, unable to believe she'd heard that. "You're asking me to look for a ghost?"

"Merry Christmas, Tag," Joe said, grinning.

"Me, too?" Sharon said, wide-eyed. "You mean it?"

"Uh-huh," Joe said. "Friday night, if your mom and dad say it's okay. Mrs. Bell said it wouldn't be right if it was just us and Tag, so I asked about you coming along, too, and she said okay, since your mom's a deacon and everything."

"That way we can cover upstairs and downstairs," Frank added.

"That big Book of Kells went missing," Joe said. "So I really want to find that."

"It did?" Kris stared at him. "But that's huge. That couldn't have been the ghost. It couldn't have been."

Frank and Joe looked at each other. "Did you just say something couldn't be a ghost, Tag?" Joe said incredulously.

"She's right," Sharon said. "Ghosts can't manage stuff that big. If they do, you've got a bigger problem than ghosts."

"Of c-c-course it's…n-not a…gh-gh-ghost, s-s-s-silly J-J-Joe," Tina said. "It's…th-the b-brown…m-m-man. He l-likes p-p-pretty…st-st-stuff. S-s-silly, silly, s-silly…J-Joe."She giggled again.

Silence, except for Tina humming as she sprinkled glitter all over one of the angels.

From the looks on Frank's and Joe's faces, they hadn't expected that — and Kris looked down; it was too easy to pick up that Joe wasn't sure he believed Tina, either. Hopefully he wouldn't say it out loud.

"The brown man?" Frank said.

Tina nodded. "He…r-r-really l-likes…c-c-candy c-canes."

"What's he look like?" Joe said.

Tina looked at him, an obvious I-just-told-you. "B-b-brown, s-s-silly."

Joe's expression…now Kris giggled, Sharon with her.

"Yeah, silly Joe," Frank said, grinning. "Okay. A brown man who likes pretty stuff. He lives in the book store, Tina?"

Tina nodded. "M-Mommy! L-l-look! K-Kris g-g-gave m-me a…c-c-crystal…f-f-for m-my angel!"

Smiling, Mrs. Collins came into the living room. "Did you tell Kris thank you?"

"Th-thank…y-y-y-you, K-Kris," Tina said.

"You're welcome," Kris said, smiling; she'd been doing that a lot tonight. It didn't feel forced or weird, for a change. "I don't know how to get the angel onto it, though."

"Chet's into building models this week," Joe said. "Maybe he'll know. He was going on about some special new glue."

"Loc-tite," Frank said. "We should've had him come over to build the stable for us."

Joe snorted. "Are you kidding? He would've made it out of cookies, and then eaten it before we had Baby Jesus done."

"St-stables…aren't c-c-cookies…s-s-silly J-J-oe," Tina giggled, and Joe rolled his eyes.

Mrs. Collins sat down cross-legged next to her daughter, looking over the various Nativity scene pieces. "I heard you asking about the brown man."

"Mrs. Bell asked me and Frank to solve a mystery for her," Joe said proudly. "She's got stuff disappearing."

"Oh." Mrs. Collins looked at Tina. "Well…the brown man isn't the one doing it. I wouldn't worry about him."

"Is t-t-to! H-he…l-l-likes…Chr-Chr-Christmas st-stuff!"

"It's an elf that Tina says she sees every time we go to the bookstore," Mrs. Collins said to Joe and Frank.

Kris went still. She hadn't heard that. She couldn't have heard that.

"She says she gives him her candy canes." Mrs. Collins was smiling again. "And he gives her Christmas ornaments in return. She always has an ornament with her whenever we leave — Mrs. Bell knows about that, and she always gives Tina extra candy canes for the elf." She touched her daughter's nose, and Tina giggled. "I think someone's just pretending to get candy."

"Where's he live, Tina?" Kris said, trying to sound casual. "I mean…like…upstairs? Behind the counter?"

"Th-the k-k-kids…r-room. H-he l-likes…D-d-doctor S-Seuss. F-f-fox…in…S-s-socks."

The kids' section was in the basement, which Mrs. Bell had refurbished into a comfortable, colorful reading space, complete with bean-bags and reading "cubbyholes" shaped like trees and rabbit-burrows. Kris and Sharon looked at each other — Kris had told Sharon about what had happened last Christmas, with Kris, Frank and Joe getting kidnapped by the Sidhe, though Frank and Joe didn't remember that part, thanks to the Sidhe curse.

So maybe Bell Book and Candle had a brownie living in it…?

But Frank and Joe were looking at each other again, and oddly, they didn't look like they disbelieved Tina; Frank looked thoughtful.

"Anyway," Mrs. Collins said, "we have a doctor's appointment early tomorrow, before school, so we'll have to leave, Tina."

"Sharon," Dr. Anderson said, as he and Mrs. Anderson came into the living room, "we have to go, too, since I'm the doctor in question."

"B-but…we…we're st-still m-making…ang-angels!" Tina looked like she was going to cry.

"Everything has to bake," Kris said, still watching Frank and Joe and wondering. "So we wouldn't finish it all tonight anyway, Tina. I'll bring 'em over to your house tomorrow, okay?"

"You can come back later to finish it, Tina," Mrs. Collins said, smiling. "Or everyone can come over our place, for a change."

"If it means I'll get to hear Joe called 'silly' all night, we'll be there," Frank said, grinning, and went with Kris and Joe upstairs to get all the coats.

"Make sure you ask your mom and dad about Friday," Kris whispered to Sharon, as everyone was saying goodbyes at the door.

Biting her lip, Sharon glanced at her parents, who were laughing over some joke on the front porch. "Don't say anything about ghosts," she whispered back, "or they'll say no." But then she smiled. "You're really lucky, having Joe for a big brother. I can't wait to tell you how lucky."

And with that little bit of mystery, Sharon ran to catch up with her parents.