Page 61 of Hacking the Holidays
Then it was time for the next child…
A boy with dark curly hair and troubled brown eyes approached slowly, hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure this was a good idea.
“Come on up, Michael,” I encouraged gently, noting the way his mother stood off to the side, her own expression anxious. “Santa would love to meet you.”
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa boomed when Michael climbed onto his lap, though I noticed him immediately softening his tone when he saw the boy’s serious expression. “And what’s your name?”
“Michael,” the boy whispered.
“That’s a fine name—one of my favorites. Now, what would you like for Christmas this year?”
Michael was quiet for a moment, his small fingers twisting together in his lap. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“I’m not sure …”
“Yeah? Why is that? Most kids know exactly what they want.”
“I’m a little sad this year.”
Sam’s jovial expression shifted, becoming gentler, more present. “I’m sorry to hear that, Michael. What’s making you sad?”
“Kids at school make fun of my big sister.” Michael’s voice got quieter. “Because she talks funny.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Michael’s mother pressing a hand to her mouth, her eyes already glistening.
“That’s not very nice of them,” Sam said, his Santapersona full of genuine compassion. “Your sister is lucky to have a brother who cares about her so much.”
“It’s her teeth,” Michael said, the words spilling out faster now, like he’d been waiting a long time to tell someone. “They’re in the wrong place, so her tongue can’t move right. That’s what the dentist said. So when she talks, it sounds weird to other kids. I don’t think it sounds weird because I’m used to it, but they laugh at her all the time, and she gets sad.” He twisted his fingers together in his lap. “The dentist said he could fix it with surgery so she could talk normally, but it would cost a lot of money. Like,a lot. My mom said we can’t afford it right now.’
Michael looked up at Sam with those serious, hopeful eyes that broke something inside me.
I understood why Sam did what he did.
How could someone not care?
“So ... can you help my sister this Christmas?” Michael asked. “I promise I’ll be good for the whole new year. All the way until next Christmas. I don’t even need presents or anything. Just ... just help my sister. Please, Santa.”
The photo area suddenly felt too quiet despite the surrounding chaos. Michael’s mother had tears streaming down her face now, one hand covering her mouth while the other hand gripped her purse like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
Sam was quiet for a moment—longer than usual—and when he spoke, his words were thick with barely contained emotion.
“Michael, that’s the most unselfish wish I’ve heard allyear. You’re an excellent brother.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll do my best to help, but I need you to make sure your mother fills out the contact form with Miss Rose, my elf. Okay? That’s very important. Can you do that for me?”
Michael nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir. I mean, yes, Santa.”
I glanced at Sam and gave him a thumbs-up—that I already had the mother’s information. I gave her an encouraging smile despite the lump in my throat. She nodded, wiping her tears, and said thank you.
Then my stomach twisted with guilt.
Because I knew what was going to happen next. I knew what Sam would do. He’d find a way to help Michael’s sister, just like he’d helped countless others. He’d use his skills and his resources to make it happen.
And I’d be there to document every second for the FBI.
I forced the thought away and turned my attention back to the long line of children. One hour went by, then two, then three. The crowd had thinned dramatically, but there were still ten children in line, their energy still electric despite the late hour.
My lower back had developed a slight ache from standing around, but I kept smiling and playing my role of the helpful elf.
Until the last person in line moved forward …
