Santa's Newest Reindeer

Santa’s

Newest

Reindeer

Santa’s

Newest

Reindeer

Denis Trom

J a b b e r w o c k y b o o k s

M i n n e a p o l i s , M n

Copyright © 2013 by Denis Trom

Jabberwocky Press

322 First Avenue N, 5th floor

Minneapolis, MN 55401

612.455.2293

www.Jabberwocky-Books.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

ISBN-13: 978-1-62652-341-8

LCCN: 2013946769

Distributed by Itasca Books

Cover Design by Kristeen Ott

Typeset by James Arneson

Printed in the United States of America

Foreword

This novel is dedicated to all girls and boys,
regardless
of their ages, who continue to believe in the mysterious, majestic, and

magical world of Santa Claus, Mrs. Claus, the elves, toys, the

North Pole, Santa’s workshop, a miniature sleigh drawn by

eight tiny reindeer, and, as always, led by Rudolph, the Red-

nosed Reindeer.

All that really matters is that you and I continue to believe

in Santa Claus.

Believe!

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It had finally arrived! Just what Ellie, Will, and all their fourth-grade classmates had been looking forward to since Septem-

ber—winter vacation, but more importantly, Christmas!
No

more school, no more books, and no more teachers’ dirty looks
. . . at least until next year.

All the plans Ellie and Will Taylor had dreamed about would

now come true. Awaiting them were the family traditions of

baking holiday goodies with Grandma Tina, playing games

with Grandpa Layne, and opening gifts on Christmas morn-

ing after Santa Claus had come. Helping Mom decorate the

Christmas tree was also a real treat, as Mom never did anything

the same way twice.

Their mother, Peg, was a very creative person. Her artistic

talents included decorating cakes and showing them on her

website, painting china, and sketching portraits. And tolerating

Dad’s annual attempt at leading the singing of “Jingle Bells”

was, at best, an endurance test, but, nevertheless, a family tra-

dition. Their father, Bill, was much better at public speaking

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than singing. And his self-taught knowledge of computers was

something to brag about. By now, their grandparents would

be at the Taylor household after driving from their home in

neighboring Cedarville, and Dad and Mom would be on their

way home from work.

The shrill of the last bell rang throughout the school as the

children stowed their books in their desks and stuffed their

backpacks with the Christmas gifts, candy, and cards they had

received from their classmates. Classroom doors flung open,

and bodies flowed into the hallways like two unruly seas crash-

ing into each other. The rush caused the seasonal decorations

adorning the walls and lights to sway uncontrollably. Shifting

forces, as if magnetic, pul ed at each opposing human wave,

causing bodies to bounce off each other. The lawless jostling

swept them toward a perilous collision with anyone and any-

thing in their paths. A petite student stooped to recover her

dropped green scarf only to be carried by the wave toward the

front door. Exchanges of “Merry Christmas” and “Happy New

Year” filled the air as teachers and students said good-byes until school reconvened after the holidays.

The commotion continued out of the building and onto the

playground. It was as if an undisciplined army of ants had left

its nest, unsure of its direction. Brightly colored scarves, mit-

tens, coats, and stocking caps contrasted sharply against nature’s cotton-white blanket. It wasn’t just any snow; it was the first

snowfall of the year. It was so thick, and the Idaho sky was

equally as white as the snow. It was wet and perfect for mak-

ing snowballs. As expected, a barrage of snowballs found their

marks on unsuspecting targets, including Mr. Allen, the school

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s a n ta' s n e w e s t r e i n Deer

principal, several screaming girls, and the school buses, affec-

tionately referred to as “yellow zingers.” Angel-wing imprints

and snow forts dotted the playground. In a larger area of the

schoolyard, older children were fashioning a pie-shaped wheel

in the snow for the popular fox and hen game.

Boys were chasing girls in hopes of catching their prey, only

to force snow down their necks. Many children were leaning

backward with open mouths, hoping to catch every snowflake.

Even Frosty the Snowman was taking shape, minus his corncob

pipe! The green scarf that had been lost in the hallway hubbub

was wrapped around his neck.

As Ellie and Will met at the corner crosswalk, they looked

at each other and laughed. “I know just what you’re thinkin’,”

blurted Ellie, reading Will’s mind.

“What?” demanded Will, as he tried not to look directly at

his twin sister. “Look!” Will quickly pointed at a car that had

just slid sideways into the curb.

As Ellie turned in the direction of the careening auto, she

dropped to her knees and a wet glob of snow skidded across

her back. Will had tried to trick her many times, but she was

not fooled by it this time. For some reason, they always knew

what the other was going to do before it happened.

“Will Taylor! I will get even with you,” Ellie threatened,

shaking a clenched mitten in his face. She reached down,

grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it at Will, hitting him

squarely in the chest. That started the war. Will grabbed Ellie’s arm, and together they fell to the ground, rolling like one giant snowball. They tried to stuff snow down each other’s necks and

any other convenient place. Will sat on Ellie’s back and pressed

her face into the cold, slushy snow.

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“Do you give in?” demanded Wil as he began shoving snow

down her neck.

“Never!” she shouted. With a burst of energy, she flung her

arm around his back and kicked her leg over his feet, enabling

her to slide out from under his grasp. They rolled again, but

this time Ellie was in control. She scooped a handful of snow

and jammed it down the backside of his pants.

Will jumped to his feet and tried to dislodge the snow from

his pants, but the snow had slid down beyond his reach. He

could only remove the snow if he dropped his pants, but that

wasn’t going to happen—at least not where someone could see

him. How would he ever explain that to his friends? Even if it

were the truth, they would probably tease him for a long time.

“How are you going to explain your wet pants?” Ellie teased

him, putting her thumbs in her ears and wiggling her fingers.

“I’ll get even,” he threatened.

“You’ve said that before. Besides, that’s my line,” she smirked,

sticking out her tongue at him. He returned the taunting gesture.

This year was going to be the best Christmas vacation ever.

In addition to al the family activities, for the first time the

merchants of Holly Valley were sponsoring a contest for the

top three homes that had the best and brightest Christmas

residential displays in Holly Valley. Not only would the winners

have the top advertisement in the city paper for the “Tour of

Christmas Lights” route, but the first, second, and third place

winners would earn cash prizes, with one hundred dollars as the

first-place prize. Ellie and Will knew their family would win

the top prize. After all, no one decorated for Christmas like the Taylors. Last year, the family strung more than ten thousand

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bulbs on their home, draped hundreds of feet of garland, and

landscaped their yard with numerous inflated Christmas char-

acters. They had the money already spent. But something was

about to happen that would change their lives forever!

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While Ellie and Will trudged methodically across the street,

the wet, heavy snow stuck to their boots. Each step splashed

brown slush on their already wet pants and coats.

“What would you do if we could not have Christmas?”

inquired Will, who always seemed to ask perplexing questions

that he already knew how his twin sister would answer.

Ellie paused, as she was caught off guard by the question. She

looked to see if Wil was smiling. It was difficult to see his imp-ish face, which was partially hidden by his hooded sweatshirt.

“I guess I’d cry a lot,” she replied quietly, as if letting the air eke out from a balloon. “Why did you ask such a dumb question just before Christmas? You know how much Santa Claus

and the holidays mean to us—our family. You still believe in

Santa, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but probably not as much as you do,” baited Will,

looking for a reaction from his sister.

Ellie became unusually quiet. Unlike his other tricks, which

generally amused her, this one made her sick to her stomach.

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They were always playing mind tricks and practical jokes on

each other.
What if there was no Christmas and Santa didn’t come?