Melissa stomped the slushy snow off her boots so she wouldn’t get the floor of the school bus wet when she climbed the rubber-treaded bus stairs. Melissa loved the bus ride to school. Usually. Today was different because she was worried and needed to talk with her best friend, Camille, about whether something sad and scary she had heard on the radio last night was true or not. Camille’s older brother, Jimmie, taught Camille more grownup stuff, like sex stuff and life stuff so maybe Camille would know the truth.
Reaching the top stair, she grabbed the post and swung around to sit in her usual seat, the first seat, near the door. That way she could get out and run to her first class, avoiding any kids who pushed and shoved and making sure she was always on time.
Today, preoccupied, she missed Becky-the-bus-driver’s tip of her cap and “Mornin”, and she didn’t see much of the snowy scenery passing by either.
Melissa couldn’t stop the replay in her head of the radio talk show she heard her mom listening to last night:
Radio Host: Well, Arthur Godfrey, you are known as America’s Uplifter; how are you doing with your Christmas preparations for your family?
Arthur Godfrey: My wife, Mary, has things under control, but this year we’re not doing as much because Richard—now knows there is no Santa Claus, and we are thinking of letting Michael and Patricia know too.
Radio Host: That’s a hard thing. What makes you want to let them know?
Arthur Godfrey: Well, it’s an issue of trust. You tell a kid something and then they find out you’ve been lying to them all along, it makes them feel betrayed and not trust you for a while. And that’s not even counting how depressed they can get.
Radio Host: How do you think the younger ones will feel when they find out. . .
Just then her mother had turned off her radio.
Melissa sat up in bed, gnawed on one hangnail, then another. Arthur Godfrey. Oh, no. You had to believe him. He never lied. And the host had said, “When they find out” as if he knew the truth was: There Is No Santa Claus.
If that’s right, it would mean that the one day Melissa looked forward to most in the whole world would be gone forever. Mom was usually okay on that morning, and Daddy at least tried not to yell when he got mad and Mom and Daddy smiled—even with their eyes—as the girls opened their packages from Santa.
Melissa’s eyes filled with stingy tears. This was something horrible. She pictured their Christmas tree with the three sisters sitting at its base, looking down, silent and sad, and her parents in their wing chairs, blank faced. Then Mom would drink some more, and Daddy would yell and maybe spank us. She most definitely did not want to believe Santa was just a myth. Maybe Camille would know more about it and help her to keep on believing in Santa Claus.
But then, again, maybe Camille would tell her there is no Santa Claus, and maybe Camille would also ridicule her for not knowing already. So maybe it’s not such a good idea to ask her and feel like a dunce.
The bus driver slammed on the brakes and the bus skidded a few feet forward. The kids squealed. The bus corrected its course and stopped at the school entrance.
Melissa looked at her Wonder Woman watch, a favorite present from Santa last year. From Maybe Santa. She had fifteen minutes to talk to Camille and get to her seat. Would Camille get here in time to talk? Getting places on time never seemed to worry Camille the way it did Melissa.
Melissa ran to their room, put her books down at her desk, hung her clothes, and went to the front door entrance to wait for Camille. Now ten minutes left.
Camille appeared at the entrance and Melissa waved. Whew. What a relief. Now, how to bring it up with her? She might think I’m a Ninny for not knowing this already and that will be embarrassing.
As Camille walked down the hall towards Melissa, classmates Bobbie, Suzie and Carol ran up to Camille all asking her, “When will you let us know who you picked for your math team?” Camille stopped and pulled out a paper with a list of names and read the names out to them. Bobbie and Suzie smiled and high-fived, Carol turned away and ran into the girl’s bathroom. Darn. There’s not going to be enough time to talk. Try again at recess.
Class had started and since Camille sat two seats behind Melissa, getting a note to her needed to be done carefully. Melissa wrote out a note to Camille. “Meet me in the girls’ room at the beginning of recess?” She folded it, wrote Camille’s name on it and put her arm behind her back to pass it to Billy on the way back to Camille.
Miss Bowles said, “Melissa, you’re in the first reader seat, would you please read the next paragraph.” Caught, Melissa jerked in her seat.
Melissa could feel her cheeks burning beet red and her eyes opened wide. “Where are we, Miss Bowles?”
“David, would you read it?” The teacher gave her a pointed look. Melissa wanted to hide under her desk, but that would have attracted even more unwanted attention.[AKP1]
When the recess bell rang, Melissa again worried about whether she wanted to risk finding out two bad things. One, that there was no Santa, and another, that Camille would think she was a Ninny.
She took a huge breath for courage, ran back to Camille’s seat and said, “I have something to ask you about that Jimmy may have told you.”
Camille started laughing. “Yeah, Jimmy has taught both of us a lot about sex—drawings of boy parts included—and other grownup life stuff.”
Good. Camille seemed to be in an especially friendly mood—remembering their closeness, and the fact that she didn’t always know everything—so that gave Melissa more hope that if there was bad news, there might be only one bad news. The news about Santa, not her own Ninnyhood.
As they walked outside to the playground, Melissa tried to sound casual. She bent down to pick up a prickly sycamore ball. “I heard Arthur Godfrey on the radio last night, talking about planning to tell his youngest kids there is no Santa.
She bounced the sycamore ball on her palm. What do you think of his plan?” There, that wouldn’t give her away completely.
Camille said, “I think that’s a terrible plan.”
Smiling widely, Melissa bounced the sycamore ball several feet high: hope too, sprang up. “I think so too.”
“Yeah, because they find out on their own anyway,” Camille said.
Melissa’s face fell. She threw the prickly ball to the ground. “Oh.” That felt like a punch in her stomach. She put her hand on a nearby tree trunk for balance and took several deep breaths.
Camille rattled on, oblivious to Melissa’s reaction. She said, “So saying it to their face just seems mean.”
“The whole thing seems too sad,” said Melissa, turning away so Camille wouldn’t see the full impact of this information on her face. Melissa pictured her bad picture of a family Christmas with no Santa in it: Three sisters sat at the base of the tree, looking down, silent and sad, and their parents in their wing chairs, blank-faced. Then Mom would drink some more, and Daddy would yell at them and maybe spank them.
“When you first find out, yes, it’s sad,” said Camille. “But there are good parts to knowing there’s no Santa.”
“I don’t see any good parts.”
Camille said, “If you just pretend you believe, you can keep getting good stuff from the parents.
“But I want it to be real. And I don’t so much care about good stuff as I do about everybody being happy.”
At the end of recess, the bell rang and Melissa and Camile ran inside while Camille was still talking. “Jimmy and I made up that Pretend Santa plan when I was little.” She laughed at her clever scheme. [AKP3]
On the way back to her seat, Camille continued, now in a whisper, “We both make long lists of what we want from Santa. And if I sneak downstairs and eat the cookie they leave out for Santa, no one will dare yell at me because that would give it away that there’s no Santa.”
Melissa had trouble paying attention in class the rest of the day. She was preoccupied with the question: How could she save Ruthie and Josie from finding out so young? Ruthie was only six and Josie was three. Melissa could take the pain herself, but them? Too terrible. Way too terrible. If they found out, it would ruin Christmas for the whole family, and without a happy Christmas maybe Mom and Daddy would even get divorced.