The Battle of Jericho by Sharon M. Draper Page A

coffee,” Geneva said. “Merry Christmas, Jericho.”
    â€œMerry Christmas, son,” his dad said.
    â€œSame to both of you. You have to work today, Dad?” Jericho asked as he searched on the floor next to his bed for his bathrobe.
    â€œYeah, I have to go in at three. Let’s go down and do this so I can get another nap. I’m getting too old for this,” he chuckled.
    Todd and Rory had already skipped down the steps and were bouncing in the living room like hot popcorn when Jericho and his dad got downstairs. The brightly covered boxes and packages, the lights on the huge tree, even the fake fire in the fireplace—the little red streamers waving in the wind from a little blower—reminded Jericho sadly ofwhat others did
not
have, and once again he felt a little guilty for his good fortune.
    He sipped the coffee Geneva fixed for him while they watched the boys gleefully rip open their packages. Just as he had predicted, they received everything they had asked for, and more. Then he opened his gifts, and thanked his father and Geneva for the watch and the jeans and the black sweater.
    The phone rang. It was Uncle Brock, calling to wish them a Merry Christmas. The two brothers talked a few minutes, then Jericho asked to speak to Josh before they hung up.
    â€œWas Santa good to you, Cuz?” Jericho asked.
    â€œYeah, he dumped a small load under my tree. But you know what I miss, Jericho?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œRemember when we were little and we got so many toys that the whole living room looked like a toy store? I miss the toys!” he said with a silly laugh.
    â€œI know what you mean. You’d come over here with your new toys, then we’d go over there with my new toys, and we played till we dropped.”
    â€œGettin’ older is the pits!” Josh wailed.
    â€œTodd and Rory got laid out with toys, though,” Jericho said. “At least I get to play with their stuff!”
    â€œHey, I gotta go. Mom’s got breakfast ready. Maybe I’ll come over later and help you play with Rory and Todd’s toys!” Josh laughed and hung up.
    Jericho was content at that moment, as he gazed at the sparkling lights on the Christmas tree, giving a feeling of safety and comfort to the family scene in front of him. Itwasn’t perfect, but it was what he had, and it was enough, he thought. Geneva was curled up on the sofa with his father, Todd and Rory ran around the living room like they were on batteries, and Jericho thought about the joy in the homes of the families they had reached, and he hoped their holiday was as happy as his.
    â€œHey, Jericho,” his father said after all the gifts were opened. “Can you go out and get the newspaper?”
    â€œAw, Dad, it’s cold out there,” Jericho complained. But he slowly got up and set his coffee down. He put his coat on over his bathrobe, stuffed his bare feet into a pair of his father’s tennis shoes, and opened the front door. A blast of cold air rushed inside.
    â€œClose the door, Jericho!” Rory yelled. “You crazy?”
    But Jericho didn’t hear him. For sitting in the driveway, with a huge red bow tied across it, was a bright red 1994 Pontiac Grand Am! He bounded across the deepest part of the snow, losing the tennis shoes in the process. But he didn’t care. Screaming and jumping barefoot in the snow, he shouted, “You got me a car! I don’t believe it! You got me a car! You’re the best parents in the whole wide world! I love you! I love you! You got me a car!”
    â€œMerry Christmas, Jericho!” his father called from the door. “And get back in here before you wake up the neighborhood and freeze your loud, silly self to death!”
    Jericho ran back through the snow and into the house and hugged his dad and Geneva until they almost choked. He was so excited he couldn’t breathe. Todd and Rory jumped and screamed in the living