Carol for Another Christmas Read Free Page A

who the desk belonged to.
    She had been lying there on Halloween night, looking up at the computer while outside Grandpa went from office to office, vacuuming, emptying trash baskets, cleaning glass. She had been wishing she had someone to talk to. She wasn’t feeling very sleepy and she was lonesome. She was lonesome a lot. Mama and Grandpa had to sleep during the day, so she had to be quiet then, too. Uncle Jamie and Aunt Brianna were in school most of the time or playing with their friends someplace else or doing homework while “watching” her. Their school didn’t have the money to take care of crippled kids like Tina, Mama said. Mama and Grandpa had to home-school her. Grandpa said it was that Senator Johansen who had taken away the school money for crippled kids, but Tina didn’t know him. She didn’t know much of anybody outside of her family.
    But she knew from what all of them said that you could meet lots of people on computers. Talk to people all over the world. She struggled to her feet and stood by the keyboard. She was just really sort of running her hand over the keys, thinking about all those people, when her finger had accidentally pressed the power button.
    Well, it made a beep and a clicking sound, and then all at once there was something that sounded like church music and words at the top read, “Program Manager.”
    â€œHere’s your miracle, Banks. Make this good. You’re on.”
    â€œI won’t let you down this time.” Then, “Hi. Who’s there?”
    â€œTina,” she typed, one letter at a time.
    â€œYou’ll have to input faster than that, Tina. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
    â€œI’m only eight,” she protested.
    â€œEight? Perfect. I wasn’t programming when I was eight yet because the stuff wasn’t available, but I would be, if I were eight now. Now then, what you and I have to do is design a little game. You like games, Tina?”
    â€œYes,” she typed cautiously. “What game is it? I don’t have to do anything dumb if I lose, do I?”
    There was a long wait at the other end. Then the typed words: “It’s not that kind of a game. It’s one we’re making up. It’s a secret. The winner—I hope—will be somebody the game helps if we play it right.”
    â€œOkay. How do we play?”
    â€œWe make it up. I’ll show you how, only—look, it’s a good thing you’re a kid. That Program Manager is really sharp to have partnered me with you. When I was a kid, I never read storybooks. I always liked instruction books. Can you tell me who we should get to help somebody become a better person?”
    â€œUmm—Mama likes Dr. Ruth.”
    â€œNo, it’s not that kind of change.”
    â€œOprah?”
    â€œIt’s be better if it wasn’t somebody who’s still . . . around.”
    â€œI know! Scrooge!”
    â€œNo. No Ducks.”
    â€œNot Scrooge McDuck! That’s different. I mean the Scrooge from the story. You know, the one who went from saying, ‘Bah! Humbug!’ on Christmas Eve to ‘Merry Christmas’ the next morning.”
    â€œYou’re a very smart kid. Scrooge it is. We’ll use old Scrooge. Okay with you?”
    Tina started to answer when the Program Manager button, which had been dark, suddenly started glowing red and a symbol came on the screen that looked to Tina like the Star Trek Tricorder that Brianna got out of a cereal box a couple of weeks ago. Across the tricorder, words wrote themselves in fancy golden letters: “Make it so.”
    They had been working on the project for a while when Tina, weary of the words and symbols she didn’t understand in spite of the computer guy’s even less understandable explanations, asked, “Where are you? Do you work here?”
    â€œI used to own the place. I guess you might say I’m on sabbatical now. Only