Fright Christmas (2 page)

“See anyone laughing, Kenny?” he asked.

“How could anyone do that to these little children?” a salesperson grumbled.

“He should be ashamed of himself,” another man agreed.

“He's a dreadful boy,” a tall woman muttered as she glared at me. “No—not a boy. A monster.”

A quick-thinking elf stood up on the sleigh and called everyone to attention. “Don't worry, folks. Santa is just fine. His beard is magic, you know. Sometimes Santa has to take it off—so he won't be recognized.”

The little kids believed him. They wiped their eyes and stopped crying.

Behind the sleigh, another elf helped Joe glue his beard back in place.

“Now, if you'll just get back in line, boys and girls,” the elf on the sleigh announced, “you can still tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”

“Kenny!” My mother's sharp, angry voice rang out from the other side of the sleigh. “Come over here—this instant!”

Kristi grinned for the first time all night.

I gulped.

“Be there in a few minutes, Mom.” I had to slip away. Hide someplace. Until Mom had time to cool off a little. Mom cools off pretty fast.

But where could I go?

I made my way around the back of the sleigh—and spotted a door. A sign hung on it. In big, bold red letters it said:
DANGER! KEEP OUT! AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Talk about a lucky break!

I'll duck in here for ten minutes. When I come out, Mom will be in a hurry to get home. She won't have time to yell at me—at least not much.

I could hear Santa greeting the crowd again from up on the sleigh.

I glanced over at Mom. She and Kristi were studying a display of ballerina dolls.

Nobody else was looking at me either.

Great! A perfect time for my escape.

I tiptoed over to the door.

I turned the doorknob.

Yes! It was my lucky break! The door wasn't locked.

I quietly slipped inside the small room.

I quickly pulled the door closed behind me—and gasped.

What a room!

Floor-to-ceiling computers filled each wall—with hundreds of switches and buttons. Every inch of wall space was covered with them—switches, buttons, levers, and dials—all lit with tiny lights in
a zillion different colors. Glowing and blinking lights—brighter and better than any Christmas tree I'd ever seen.

I heard a low hum coming from all directions. And through the soles of my sneakers I felt the floor softly vibrate.

Wow! This is like the space-capsule simulator ride at AstroLand. Only this was better.

And here I was. In the middle of it all. By myself.

I was in complete control—but of what? I wondered. What do all these switches do?

I peered closely at the switches.

I searched for writing underneath them—some sign of what they did.

Nothing.

Well, there was only one way to find out!

My fingertips tingled with anticipation.

Santa's beard? Kid stuff!

Merry Christmas, everyone, I thought with glee. Get ready for some
real
excitement!

I slowly reached out my hand—to a big red switch in the middle of the control board.

I grasped it between my fingertips.

And flipped it.

I waited.

And waited.

And listened to the shoppers' voices outside the
door. Listened for their shrieks—as the lights went out. Or the sprinkler system went on. Something.

No cries of surprise.

Nothing.

I sighed and flipped a big blue switch right next to the red one.
Bam!
I jumped.

The door locked—with the sound of a heavy bolt.

I flipped the blue switch again. I listened for the bolt to slide open. It didn't. I was trapped!

I
grabbed the doorknob and turned it. The door remained locked.

I jiggled the knob.

Tugged on the door again.

It didn't budge.

It was bolted shut—from the outside.

A small wave of panic rose up inside me.

I stared around the room.

The lights seemed to blink more wildly. The humming sound seemed to grow louder.

Relax, Kenny, I told myself. If you bang on the door, somebody will hear you and let you out.

I listened.

I heard only the low hum of the control panels.

“Hey, could someone open this door?” I shouted. “I'm stuck in here.”

No one answered me.

“Hey, I'm stuck in here!” I yelled, pounding my fist on the door. “Somebody open up!”

No one came to the door.

With all the people out there, why didn't anyone hear me?

“I'm a kid trapped in this closet!” I yelled as loud as I could. “Help me! Somebody! Get me out of here!”

I banged on the door with my hands. I kicked it hard with my feet.

There! Somebody had to hear that!

Silence.

An uneasy feeling crept into the pit of my stomach. I stood back from the door and took a deep breath.

Then I took a running leap at it, throwing my shoulder against it hard.

Nothing.

I banged on the door until my knuckles hurt.

Still nothing.

Where is everyone?

I glanced at my glow-in-the-dark watch: 8:15!

Dalby's closes at eight.

Did everyone go home?

How could that be?

How could everyone have gone home and left me in here? My mom must have told someone I was missing. Why weren't they looking for me?

My hands began to sweat. I had to get out of this place. But how?

I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and checked my watch again: 8:20.

It wasn't that late. There had to be someone in the store. A manager. A security guard locking up. One of Santa's stupid elves. Someone.

Oh, I get it! They know I'm in here, I realized. They're trying to teach me a lesson or something dumb like that.

“Come on, you guys!” I yelled. “Please. Let me out of here! Now!”

No reply.

I grabbed the doorknob and pulled with all my strength.

“Help!” I screamed. “Help!”

I twisted the knob. Then I pulled again, as hard as I could.

“Let me out of here!” I shouted.

No one answered my calls. I backed away from the door, wondering what to do next.

That's when I heard the sizzling sounds.

I gazed around the room. I couldn't tell what was making that noise.

Then, suddenly, the hum in the room grew louder.

And the floor began to vibrate.

My legs shook hard.

The humming grew louder. Louder. It filled the room now, shrill and strong. It seemed to come at me from every direction, all at once.

The floor quaked under my feet.

I started to lose my balance.

Started to slam into the control panel—when the door slowly swung open.

I
grabbed onto the control panel and caught my balance.

I stared at the door.

It swung open some more. A pale red light glowed through the opening.

I staggered toward the door on shaky legs.

“What took you so long?” I demanded as I stepped outside. “Something crazy was going on in that room!”

Huh?

No one stood outside the door.

The toy department sat in silence. Except for
the dull red glow from the exit signs, it was totally dark.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I glanced around. In the shadowy light, I could make out the outline of Santa's Village.

In the glow of the red light, Santa Street looked eerie—like a miniature Fear Street. The deserted end of Fear Street. The part with the abandoned mansions. The mansions that people say are haunted.

I live on Fear Street. I have to admit it—the mansions do look kind of creepy. But haunted—come on! How could anyone really believe in ghosts?

I took a step forward.

“Hey!” I shouted. “Anybody here?”

My voice echoed back to me.

I took a few more steps. My sneakers squeaked on the marble floor.

I stood perfectly still and listened. All I heard was my own heart beating. Really loud.

Then I heard something else.

I held my breath. What was it?

It sounded like—bells.

Sleigh bells. Louder now. Coming closer—from Santa's Village.

I took a few steps through the village gate.

“Hey, is someone there?” I yelled.

Footsteps. Slow and heavy.

I squinted in the darkness. I saw something move—down by Santa's sleigh.

I could make out a shadow now—the shadow of a man. A man sitting in Santa's sleigh.

He stood up and stepped out of the sleigh.

Even in the shadows I could tell he was big. And tall. He walked slowly down Santa Street—right toward me.

“Who's there?” I shouted. “Who is it?” My voice squeaked a little.

The man didn't answer.

He came closer.

I heard his heavy shoes scrape the floor.

And with every step he took, I heard the faint sound of jingling bells.

Barely breathing, I stood there and watched him. Now I could make out his fur-trimmed red coat and red pants.

Joe!

Joe—still wearing his big white beard. Didn't he ever take that thing off?

“Hey, did you unlock that door for me?” I called out to him.

He shrugged. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't.”

“Give me a break, Joe.” I rolled my eyes at him. “It sure took you long enough,” I complained. “I yelled my head off in there. Didn't you hear me?”

“I'm a busy guy tonight,” Joe replied. “Tonight's the big night.”

“All right. All right. You're still mad at me for pulling your beard off,” I said sarcastically. “You wanted to teach me a lesson, right?”

Joe walked up to me and stared down into my eyes. He shook his head slowly from side to side. I noticed a funny little smile under his beard.

“Are you sorry about what you did, Kenny?” he asked.

“What's the big deal?” I scoffed. “Those kids will get over it.”

“You've been naughty all year, Kenny,” Joe said grimly.

“Naughty?” I mimicked his voice. Then I chuckled. “You can save the Santa act for next year. Okay, Joe?”

Joe wagged his finger, frowning.

“Come on, Joe. Lighten up,” I teased. “You don't have to drag out this Santa act for me.”

Then I reached up. I grabbed hold of his beard—and gave it a good yank.

It didn't budge.

I pulled on it again—harder this time.

It didn't come off.

With a shaky hand, I reached out to give it a really hard tug.

“W
-what did you stick this thing on with anyway?” I stammered.

Joe's round cheeks puffed out. They turned really red.

He gripped my hand strongly. He pried it off his beard. But he didn't let go of my wrist.

I stared up into his face—and studied it closely. Even in the shadowy light this guy didn't look that much like Joe to me anymore.