The Saturday Boy

“I would say you’ve been very good, Derek,” said Mom. “It’s been tough and you’ve handled yourself well and I’m proud of you. You might not always use the good sense that God gave you but you are only eleven years old and sometimes eleven-year-olds just don’t act the way you’d like them to.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“But,” said Mom, holding up a finger, “your heart’s in the right place, Derek. You’re a good kid—a great kid. I can see it. Your aunt Josie can see it. Ms. Dickson can see it. And I’m pretty sure Santa can see it, too.”

“When do you think he stops watching?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s got to load the sleigh and stuff.”

“Are you worried he saw what happened today?”

“Yes.”

“I hate to tell you this, Piggy, but he probably did. Don’t freak out, though—Santa takes the whole year into consideration and not just the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas,” said Mom. “And he doesn’t load the sleigh, anyway—the elves do. It’s a union thing.”

I guess I knew that, too. I mean, I’d seen a lot of Christmas movies and it seemed like the elves did most of the work and Santa just stood around eating cookies and taking all the credit.

* * *

After dinner we decorated the tree. We strung lights all around it and hung ornaments from the branches and I got to stand on a chair and put the angel on top. When we were done decorating Aunt Josie turned the room lights off and the tree lights on and we all sat on the couch and looked at them for a while in silence. Snow was falling outside the windows and I was glad to be inside, safe and warm, snuggled between Mom and Aunt Josie. I could have stayed like that forever.

“What time is it?” I mumbled, feeling all fuzzy-headed and sleepy.

“Hm?”

Mom sounded like she was half-asleep. Aunt Josie was out completely. Her head was leaned back and her mouth was open and she was snoring.

“Time?”

“Hm? Oh… oh shoot! How’d it get to be nine thirty already?” she said, pushing herself up off the couch. “C’mon, c’mon. Let’s brush teeth.”

I rubbed my good eye, scratched my head, and yawned. Then I rose slowly and zombied through the kitchen and up the stairs to the bathroom. Mom had put my toothbrush on the sink for me. She was in her bedroom, probably putting her pajamas on.

“Where’s the toothpaste?”

“Next to your toothbrush.”

“Where’s my toothpaste?”

“Just use mine.”

“I like mine better,” I said. “Mine tastes like bubblegum.”

“Please use mine.”

“I’ll just use the mouthwash instead.”

“Derek, don’t—wait! Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It sounded like an elf! Hurry! Brush your teeth and get in bed! Quick!”

I grabbed Mom’s toothpaste, squeezed some onto my brush, and started brushing. It tasted awful. Thankfully, it wasn’t in my mouth very long because I only brushed once in each direction before spitting it out. Then I ran down the hallway and into bed, kissing Mom good night as the quilt was still settling around me.

“Derek?”

“Yes?”

“Did you turn the water off?”

“Um… yes?” I said, pulling the quilt over my head.

“Derek.”

“I forgot. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry I’ll get it,” Mom said. “Good night, sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” I fell asleep a little while later, listening hard for Santa’s reconnaissance elves.

18

ON CHRISTMAS MORNING, I got out of bed, put on a sweatshirt and slippers, and snuck downstairs, careful not to wake Mom because it was still a little earlier than she would have liked. I peered around the doorway into the living room and in the dim light coming through the window could see Aunt Josie was asleep on the pullout with one of those mask thingies over her eyes. Which meant I could plug in the tree without waking her. So I did.

I could see my stocking hanging from the mantel. It reminded me of something I saw on Adventure Kids once where they showed a python swallowing a goat, only instead of a leg sticking out of it there were candy canes, which was just as cool but in a totally different way.

I walked around the pullout to the fireplace, took down my stocking, sat on the floor, and dumped it out. Chocolate Santas and a bag full of tiny plastic ninjas tumbled into my lap. I held my stocking by the toe and shook it until a package of batteries and a couple of packs of Dinoboy cards fell out. There was something left in the stocking, though, so I stuck my hand in and grabbed it and wiggled it until it got loose. I pulled the package out and turned it over. It was an official Zeroman watch.

“Coooool.”

The watch was encased in plastic and I turned it over and over in my hands, trying to figure out how to open it. I tried tearing it. I tried biting it. Nothing worked.

“Need some help?” Aunt Josie’s voice made me jump. She was sitting up in bed with the mask thing pushed up on her forehead.

“Look! Look! Santa came!”

“I see that,” said Aunt Josie. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”

“Merry Christmas!”

I climbed up onto the bed, gave her a giant hug, and dropped the package in her lap.

“Can you help me open this?”

Aunt Josie picked up the package, turned it over in her hands a couple times, and then pulled it apart. The watch fell out onto the bed and I scooped it up and strapped it on.

“Now open mine,” she said. “It’s under the tree.”

I scrambled off the bed and found Aunt Josie’s gift to me. It was a book. And its shape and weight suggested it was an educational one. I looked at Aunt Josie, hoping I didn’t seem too disappointed.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s not a book.”

“It’s not?”

“It’s a football.”

“Really?”

She didn’t have to tell me to stop being ridiculous. The look she gave me did that well enough. Maybe a little too well, actually.

“Just open it,” she said.

I got back up on the bed and sat next to her. She put her arm around me and held me close as I removed the wrapping paper.

“He-ey, cooool!”