Tracy Tam: Santa Command by Krystalyn Drown Page A

Don't you want to know how he did it?”
    “No, I don't.” She folded her arms across her chest, which was kind of hard, because the Santa coat bunched up in weird places. “I told you. We have a huge problem to fix. Don't you care?”
    “Nope,” he said bluntly. “My aunt works at Santa Command. If the old man misses my house, she'll still bring my presents home. Besides, you didn't look too worried when you were passed out in Chris' library. When did you start caring?”
    “When we…” Well, the truth was, she didn't know exactly what had made her change her mind, but it had been sometime after she had stepped through that mirror. She didn't care if there were jets on the sleigh or if it had all been a ride. “It doesn’t matter. At least I care about something more than getting my presents.”
    “That's not what I—”
    Chris hopped down from the sleigh and landed in between the children. “How about we go inside and warm up?” he said as he rubbed his hands together briskly. “My wife makes a mean cup of hot chocolate.”
    “But—” Tracy began.
    “Patience.” Chris put a finger to her lips. “I promise you, we'll take care of your problem, but there's something else that needs to be done first.” And with that, Chris turned on his heel and walked out of the barn. The two children followed behind, but they refused to look at each other for the entire walk.
     
    ***
     
    Chris' wife, he introduced her as Mary, placed four steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the tiny breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen. It tasted just like the one Tracy had found in the library, sweet and spicy, and Tracy settled back into her chair.
    Mary looked like an older version of a 1950s housewife, with a puffy skirt, lacy apron, and wavy, gray hair. Both the kitchen and her appearance showed that she liked things neat and orderly. Tracy could appreciate that. She couldn't sleep if her desk had a pencil out of place.
    Mary's kitchen smelled like the Main Street bakery at Disney. Her parents had told her that Disney piped in that smell to sell more cookies, but Tracy had a feeling the scent in Mary's kitchen was the real thing. It was odd to think anything about her night was real, when she had found so many things that made her question what she knew. That was the very nature of science, to raise questions and seek answers, no matter how unexpected those answers might be. She stuck her hand inside her coat pocket and felt the turtle zip drive.
    Despite the confusing answers she'd gotten, she still had so many questions. What were those elf creatures? Where did she go when she went through that mirror? She didn't feel like they were in Alabama anymore. Was it really a portal? Did Santa Command have transporter technology like on Star Trek? And last of all, who was Chris? Of everything she had discovered, he felt the most real, but she still didn't know what that meant. He said he was the original Santa. She agreed with Jared on that one. It wasn't possible.
    She studied Chris across the table. He had red cheeks and dimples, no beard, just some scruff, but whiskers come and go. If she tilted her head and squinted her eyes just a little bit, she could sort of see how he looked like Santa.
    Chris noticed Tracy studying him. He wiggled his fingers, and for a moment, he transformed into Tracy's perfect image of Santa—red suit, fat belly, warm smile—but a second later, he was back in his navy blue suit, looking very much like a retired business man.
    Jared noticed it too and spit his hot chocolate all over the table. “I knew this stuff was tainted!”
    “Jared!” Mary scolded him as she handed him a wet washcloth to clean up his mess. Her hair was neat and her back was straight, and she was not the type to clean up after children who were perfectly capable of doing it themselves.
    Chris laughed it off. “It's all right, my dear. It'll wash.”
    Mary raised an eyebrow.
    Tracy pulled her cup closer to her and swished it