Ho-Ho-NOOO! (10 page)

It was worse than she feared. Remember Violet’s thermometer chart, showing how much money she needed to raise to buy the TV? Well, it was not only colored to the top, but Violet had drawn a big puddle at the bottom showing how much was overflowing.

“Wonderful,” TJ muttered as she pulled back from the doorway and headed for her own room. “Just wonderful.”

She was so tired, she didn’t bother to turn on the lights or even change clothes. She just staggered to the bed and dropped onto the mattress. But the mattress was a lot lumpier than she remembered. Not only was it lumpy, but the lumps talked.

“OW!” they cried in a voice that sounded a lot like her littlest sister.

“Dorie?” TJ said. “Is that you?”

The lumps squirmed.

“What are you doing here?” TJ asked.

“I can’t breathe,” Dorie gasped.

“Oh, sorry.” TJ rolled off her and to the other side of the bed.

Dorie took a deep breath. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, I miss you too,” TJ said. “But why are you here?”

“It’s the only place you come when you’re home.” Dorie curled into a little ball, snuggling in nice and close.

TJ definitely got the message. And it was stronger than any flashing disco alarms or 23rd-century comedians. “Yeah,” she said, “I’ve been kinda busy. But it’ll all be over in a few days. And come Christmas Eve, I’ll be giving Daddy the best gift he’s ever had.”

But Dorie didn’t answer.

TJ gave her a nudge. “Squid? You awake?”

Her only answer was Dorie’s slow, heavy breathing. She’d already drifted back to sleep.

TJ gave a weary sigh and moved in closer. It was nice to be next to someone who loved her so much . . . and whom she loved. Of course she could never tell Dorie that. After all, she was the big sister, and she had a reputation to keep up. But it felt good to snuggle next to her . . . no matter how freezing her little iceberg feet were.

TIME TRAVEL LOG:

Malibu, California, December 24

Begin Transmission

Subject still not getting Christmas. We want to help, but some things have to be learned the hard way. In our subject’s case, the VERY hard way.

End Transmission

One day dragged by after another until it was the afternoon of Christmas Eve—the last day TJ had to work. It was also the day for Chad and Hesper’s “Feed the Homeless” program. But unfortunately for the couple, things were not going well in a very unwell sort of way. For starters, Chad had a long talk with the minister of his church. For finishers, Chad had to give Hesper (and her posse of Hesper wannabes) the bad news.

“What do you mean he won’t serve caviar cream puffs?” Hesper demanded.

“Yes,” her wannabes repeated, “what do you mean?”

“He just thinks there’s better food to feed them,” Chad said.

“The caviar puffs cost $39.99 apiece. What could be better than that?”

“Yeah,” her posse repeated, “what could be better than that?” (Instead of a posse, Chad wondered why Hesper didn’t just buy a bunch of parrots.)

He braced himself to give even more bad news.

“He also thinks we’re somehow missing the spirit behind the evening.”

“The spirit?” she asked.

“You know, baby Jesus, peace on earth, goodwill to men—that sort of thing.”

“Oh, he’s right!” Hesper nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely! Bernie already thought of that.”

“He did?” Chad asked hopefully.

“You bet. That’s why we’re bringing in a giant snow machine.”

Chad frowned. She still hadn’t exactly grasped the reason for the season.

“And later, when the orchestra starts playing the Hallelujah Chorus, I’ll fly down in all my glory. Then I’ll walk amid those poor, wretched souls and feed them my caviar puffs.” She clapped her hands. “Won’t that just be fantasmo?”

“Yes!” Her wannabes clapped. “Fantasmo!”

Chad swallowed. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” Hesper said, linking her arm through his. “But don’t you worry. I’ll have plenty of bodyguards in case any of them want to touch me with their filthiness.” She gave a shudder, which meant all her wannabes shuddered.

Hesper was definitely not making this easy. Still, Chad had to make sure she understood the church’s concern. “Actually—” he cleared his throat—“the reverend thinks it’s all just a little too much.”

“Too much?” Hesper asked.

“He’s afraid it’ll make the people feel like we’re just using them. Like they’re somehow inferior to us.”

“Well, of course they’re inferior. Why else would they be homeless?”

“He doesn’t see it that way. And to be honest, I don’t either.”

“Then maybe you two need to start seeing things differently,” Hesper said. “Honestly, how else does he expect to get on prime-time television?”

Chad shrugged. “He doesn’t. He just wants to remind the community that there are people less fortunate and we should pitch in to help them.”

“Well, if he doesn’t like the way I’m pitching in, maybe he can just do it himself.”

“No, he still wants to work with you, but—”

“Maybe I don’t want to work with him.”

“Hesper—”

“Besides, we’ve already notified the press. All my fans will be watching. So if your church doesn’t want to be part of the show, they can go somewhere else and put on their own.”

Chad looked at the ground. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this.

Seeing his expression, Hesper debated whether to yell and throw a fit or just break into uncontrollable sobs. Since she was a professional, she decided to do both. “If (
sob-sob
) they would rather do some pathetic little program instead of working with sweet, famous me (
stomp a foot here
), then they can just go ahead and (
sob-sob
) . . . they can just go ahead and (
stomp another foot
) . . . they can . . . they can . . .” Hesper could go no further. She had worked herself into such a fury that she rolled her eyes up into her head and collapsed into the arms of her wannabes . . . who quickly rolled their own eyes and collapsed into each other’s arms.

Chad looked on. It was quite a performance. He knew there would be no changing her mind, not when she got like this. The program would go on just as she had planned. And if his church wanted to hold something less flashy, they’d have to find someplace else to do it. There was no question about it.

Unfortunately this led to an even bigger question. Which program would Chad be part of? Sadly, he already knew his answer. And sadder still, he knew Hesper would be even less pleased.

TJ was dealing with a big question of her own.

Could she make it the entire day playing Santa Claus while running on autopilot?

So far, she’d done okay. She’d managed to

her way through the morning hours while half a trillion kids (give or take a billion) sat on her lap reciting their same worn-out

And she managed to

her way through the afternoon hours with another half-trillion critters of greed.

Of course there were the usual

and

But as long as TJ kept her mind on all the money she was making, she did just fine. By the end of the day, she figured she would have:

That was a ton of cash. And already she could picture handing it over to Dad as they sat around the Christmas tree tonight. Talk about a moment to remember. Yes, sir, things couldn’t have been better.

Actually, they could have been just a little better, if during the last 20 minutes the store was open, she hadn’t seen Violet passing by with two hulking deliverymen. The men carried a huge cardboard carton with lettering on the side that read:

Eat Your Hearts Out

This TV Screen Is Way Bigger Than Yours

TJ went cold (and it had nothing to do with the rainbow snow cone little Josie had just spilled down her front). Instead, it had everything to do with Violet’s buying a TV that obviously cost more than TJ’s measly $775.00.

There was no question about it: TJ had to make more money and she had to make it fast!

But how?

Luckily (or unluckily, if you’ve read enough of these stories) the answer came sooner than she expected. Her cell phone began playing the love song from
High School Musical 17
. This, of course, was the ringtone she’d programmed for Chad Steel’s calls.

Leaping to her feet, she dug the phone out of her pocket while dumping little Josie onto the floor. (Hey, we’re talking Chad Steel here.)

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hi, uh, um, er . . .”

“TJ?” she said, helping him out.

“Yeah, TJ. Listen, I’ve got some good news and some bad.”

The good news had obviously happened—she’d received a call from Chad Steel. She braced herself for the bad.

“I won’t be helping Hesper with feeding the homeless tonight.”

“Why not?” TJ managed to croak.

“My church wants to hold a smaller, quieter version at their place.”

TJ’s heart sank to her stomach. “So . . . you don’t need my help?”

“I don’t think so.”

Forget the stomach. Now her heart was on the floor swimming in melted rainbow snow-cone juice.

“But Hesper still does.”