Fright Christmas Read Free Page A

shook his head slowly from side to side. I noticed a funny little smile under his beard.
    â€œAre you sorry about what you did, Kenny?” he asked.
    â€œWhat’s the big deal?” I scoffed. “Those kids will get over it.”
    â€œYou’ve been naughty all year, Kenny,” Joe said grimly.
    â€œNaughty?” I mimicked his voice. Then I chuckled. “You can save the Santa act for next year. Okay, Joe?”
    Joe wagged his finger, frowning.
    â€œCome on, Joe. Lighten up,” I teased. “You don’t have to drag out this Santa act for me.”
    Then I reached up. I grabbed hold of his beard—and gave it a good yank.
    It didn’t budge.
    I pulled on it again—harder this time.
    It didn’t come off.
    With a shaky hand, I reached out to give it a really hard tug.

5

    â€œW -what did you stick this thing on with anyway?” I stammered.
    Joe’s round cheeks puffed out. They turned really red.
    He gripped my hand strongly. He pried it off his beard. But he didn’t let go of my wrist.
    I stared up into his face—and studied it closely. Even in the shadowy light this guy didn’t look that much like Joe to me anymore.
    My mouth suddenly felt very dry. I licked my lips and tugged my wrist out of his hand.
    I took a quick step backward. Away from him. Whoever he was . . .
    â€œThat beard. It’s—it’s real, right?” I murmured.
    â€œThat’s right.” He nodded slowly. A small bell on his cap jingled. It sounded creepy in the silent department store.
    â€œAnd you’re not Joe,” I blurted out.
    â€œRight again.” He crossed his arms over his wide chest. “It’s time we had a talk, Kenny,” the stranger said to me. His deep voice boomed through the empty store.
    He moved even closer.
    â€œTalk? About what?” I asked slowly.
    â€œAbout you, Kenny,” he said.
    â€œWhat do you mean, about me? Who are you anyway?” I shot back.
    â€œHo-ho-ho!” he laughed. The sound came from deep in his belly. His entire body shook. “You’re kidding me, Kenny. Right?”
    â€œI’m not kidding,” I shouted at him. “How am I supposed to know who you are? You stomp around here, dressed in that stupid Santa suit. Trying to scare me, or something—”
    â€œAre you sure you don’t know me, Kenny?” He leaned over, his face very close to mine. “You’re a smart kid. Think about it.”
    I stared up at him.
    I thought about it.
    Only one answer made sense.
    No. Impossible.
    â€œWell?” he asked.
    â€œThis is a joke, right?” I answered. “Pretty good.” I forced a laugh. “You really had me going there for a minute. Well, see you around. My folks must be looking for me. They must be worried.”
    â€œYou can’t go yet, Kenny.” The big man shook his head. “Not until we’ve had our talk.”
    â€œHey, I’m sorry about the beard,” I said in a rush. “It was just a little joke. I’m really sorry, honest.”
    â€œYou’ve got a lot more than the beard to apologize for,” he replied in that booming voice. “You’ve done a lot of bad things. It’s time for you to learn-before it’s too late.”
    â€œCome along,” he ordered me. He grabbed my sleeve and led me to the ballerina-doll display.
    He reached down and pulled out a doll from the bottom of the pile. The ballerina doll Kristi had shown me.
    The doll’s hair was totally flattened. Her eyes, permanently jammed shut.
    â€œDid you do this?” he asked me.
    â€œI was just teasing Kristi a little. No big deal,” I said. “It’s not as though I hurt anyone for real. The doll can’t feel anything.”
    â€œBut little girls can,” he said, gently lifting the doll’s lids. “And so can classmates. And parents. And school custodians.”
    He set the doll carefully