Naughty Or Nice
written by: Author B.A. Rose
Thomas Bailey was walking home from school. He had been sent to the principal’s office for fighting. It wasn’t his fault. The other kid pushed him at the lunch line and spilled his milk. Now he had to face his father. Laid off for almost two years, the man was in a consistently bad mood. This would set him off for sure, and Thomas would be his punching bag. He wished he were older and could defend himself, but he was only ten. He thought of his sister Susie. She was two years younger and scared of their father. If he hit Thomas, he usually left her alone, but she cried when she saw his bruises. His sister was the only person he loved in this whole world. He didn’t hate his mother, but was angry with her for not standing up for them. He would never understand why she didn’t just leave him.
Their house had been nice at one time, but now it was run down. His father preferred to drink these days rather than fix anything. He was teased constantly at school, and the kids on the block called his house the poor house. He dreaded going in now, as he heard his father yelling. The school must have just called. Taking a deep breath and hoping this time would be different, he walked inside.
The minute the door opened, he heard his father’s voice. Damn, he was already drunk and furious. Where was his mother? Was Susie home yet? He hoped not. Putting his book bag down, he walked into the living room to see his father drinking a glass of cheap alcohol. Why his mother bought it for him, he didn’t know. They barely had money for food, and his mom was working two jobs to support them all. Looking up, his father’s eyes were red, and he scowled. “Come here, boy! Now!” Thomas talked to himself as he slowly walked toward him. ‘Don’t be scared. Don’t let him see you cry. Be brave.’
Inches away, his father grabbed his jacket, roughly pulling him close so Thomas could smell the booze on his breath. “What did I tell you about fighting? You never listen. The other boy has a broken nose, and now we’ll have to pay the medical bills. You’re lucky they didn’t kick you out. What have you got to say for yourself!” Thomas knew that no matter what he said, it would end up with a beating, so he said, “I’d do it again. That kid pushed me first.” Knowing it would infuriate his father, he closed his eyes, ready for the first punch.
An hour later, he was in his room, putting a frozen bag of peas on his eye. How was he going to explain this one? He tripped down the stairs? Walked into a chair? The teachers were already speculating. Tears slipped down his cheeks. What did he do to deserve a father who hated him? Hearing a knock, he wiped his face. Slowly opening, Susie walked in. “Tommy, are you okay? Mommy said you hurt yourself. Is that true?” Walking over, she saw his eye, which was now swollen and bruised. Tears fell down her cheeks as she cried. In a whisper so that she wouldn’t be heard, she said, “He did it. Didn’t he? I know that boy pushed you. My friends told me. Why didn’t he believe you? Mommy said she’ll write a note for you tomorrow.”
Sitting up, he took his sister’s hand. “Don’t cry. One day, we’ll be out of here, and he won’t be able to hurt us anymore. I’ll be okay. I’ll always take care of you.” Sitting next to him, she looked up. “I’m going to write to Santa for help. I’ve been a good girl all year, and you’re only naughty when you’re fighting. He’ll help.” Thomas didn’t want to tell her there was no such thing as Santa Claus. She still believed. What could he do about this anyhow? Nothing. “If you want to, but don’t be upset if he doesn’t answer. He’s a busy person.” She nodded, leaning on him for comfort. “I love you. It will be okay.” Putting his arm around her, he smiled, his eye aching. “Ditto, little sister.”
Dinner was spaghetti with a little ground beef, as his mom tried to make meals to feed a family of four. She put a bit of string beans on the plate as they needed some vegetables. Their father didn’t join them anymore. He was already asleep from drinking all day. His beautiful mother was looking tired, but she still sat with them. If only she would leave him and take them somewhere new. To start over. In his head, he didn’t hear Susie telling their mother about writing to Santa. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. He may bring that doll you want, and Tom Tom could use a new bicycle.” He looked up, feeling angry. “How about Santa bring the drunk a job, so he stops beating on me. It’s not my fault. It’s his!”
He knew it was out of line, but he didn’t want a bike. He wanted parents who cared about him and Susie and wouldn’t hurt him anymore. His mother was a calm person and felt guilty about letting her husband take his frustration out on their son. Matt always had a hot temper, but losing his job had made him lose control. She hid the bruises he inflicted on her well, crying alone when everyone was asleep. Her parents were dead, and she didn’t have anyone who could help. She felt helpless and didn’t blame Thomas for being so angry. Patting his hand gently, she said, “You’re right. Add to the list that Daddy finds a job and stops drinking.” He saw tears in her eyes, and she turned away, getting up to pour them some water.
Now he felt bad for yelling. Tears threatened to fall, and he had caused it. The last thing he wanted was to become his father. Christmas was two weeks away, but he had stopped believing in miracles a long time ago. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Lara squeezed his hand gently, love in her eyes. “I’m sorry too, Tom, Tom. For everything.” He knew she meant for not stopping his father from hitting him. Nodding, he went back to his dinner. Were things ever going to get better?
A week before Christmas, Susie told him that she had written to Santa. They always talked before going to sleep. Thomas had tried to be on his best behavior at school, and when explaining the black eye, his teacher gave him a look that said she didn’t believe a single word. Even his mother’s letter didn’t convince her. He began focusing on his schoolwork and ignoring the teasing. His father still got drunk, but he managed to stay out of his way. One night he had heard his mother crying, and snuck out of bed to see her in the bathroom, putting antiseptic on a bruise. It looked new, and she winced while applying the ointment. His father was hitting her, too. They had to get out of here.
As his sister told him about writing to Santa, he asked if she did what their mother asked. “Oh yes, I asked him to give Daddy a new job, and stop him from drinking as he was mean when he did.” Thomas lay there wondering if, in fact, there was a Santa Claus, would he be able to stop his father from beating up his mother and him? He hoped so. That would be all he wanted for Christmas.
Christmas Eve was quiet for a change. His mother had to work a late shift, so she prepared a small dinner for them. She had managed to save some money to bake cookies, and there were a few small gifts under the small tree they had. Their father was already drinking and mumbling under his breath. That was never good. Susie sat on the floor, looking at Thomas. She was scared. “Well, we should get some sleep. Santa will be coming to our house. Bring the cookies and milk.” Nodding, she got up slowly and walked to the kitchen. His father turned, eyes red, and a face full of anger. “We don’t have money for that. You two are a drain on us. I’ll be talking with your mother later.”
Thomas felt such anger that he wished he were older and taller. Susie walked back inside, a small plate of cookies in one hand, and a little glass of milk in the other. About to place it down, their father stood up and knocked it to the floor. The plate broke, and the milk spilled as Susie cried. “You’d better stop those stupid tears, or I’ll give you something to cry about.” Thomas took her hand as she leaned into him, afraid. “I’ll wipe it up. You go upstairs and get ready for bed.” Not even looking at her father so as not to provoke him, she quickly ran off. Coming back with a dish towel, he began to clean up the milk. “Make sure there’s not a drop of milk on that floor, and wipe up the cookies. I don’t want to see a speck of dirt. Do you understand?”
Nodding, he made sure it was clean, feeling angrier as he cleaned. He knew it wasn’t right to hate anyone, but he did. Why couldn’t his father just go away and never come back? Once it was wiped up, he stood throwing the crumbs in the garbage and washing the dish rag. He took more cookies and another glass of milk, hiding them behind his back as he slowly walked toward the steps. His father was slumped in his chair, asleep.
Walking into Susie’s room, he saw her wiping her face. “Santa won’t find us now.” Thomas smiled, producing the cookies and milk. Placing it on her small desk, he said, “Sure, he will. Just don’t eat them. I know you like cookies.” Susie laughed. “You’re the best big brother. ever.” Thomas didn’t believe in Santa or anything anymore, but he didn’t want his sister to stop believing. “I try. Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?” She nodded, and he moved to lie beside her. Taking his hand, she said, “Merry Christmas, Tommy.” He smiled, and she held her stuffed bear, closing her eyes.
A noise woke him up, and he saw his sister fast asleep. Leaving her room, he heard a growl. ‘What was that?’ His mom wasn’t home yet, so he decided to see what it was. Looking at the clock, he saw it was after midnight. Walking toward the steps, he heard his father’s voice, and it sounded scared. Slowly walking down, he stopped, seeing Santa holding his father by his shirt as he hung in the air. His father’s legs were flailing, and he looked pale from fear. The voice of Santa wasn’t gentle at all. It was deep and harsh. “How dare you harm those children. You’ve been naughty. Santa told me to visit you. I’m his twin, Krampus. I punish those who deserve it.” Thomas’s eyes widened. Santa had a mean twin? Why wasn’t it in any of the books? He listened as his father tried to explain. The mean Santa growled, shaking him. “Lies! There is never an excuse to beat a child or a female. You are naughty and need to be punished.”
His father started crying, but the evil Santa just laughed. Throwing his father into his chair, he opened a large sack and, walking toward him, picked him up by his feet, dumping him inside of it. He heard his father scream, but the evil Santa didn’t care. Laughing cruelly, he lifted the bag over his shoulder and turned, dropping a piece of coal on the floor. About to leave, he saw Krampus turn, his eyes yellow and glowing as his fangs dripped with saliva. “Take heed, young Thomas, for if you don’t learn, I’ll be back for you one day.” Moments later, he disappeared with his father. Walking down the stairs, he picked up the coal. How could he tell his mother what happened? Who would believe him?
Going back upstairs, he made sure Susie was still asleep. Once he did, he walked into his bedroom, placing the coal on his desk. The Santa downstairs had been a monster who punished evil people. His father may have had a rough time, getting laid off and all, but he didn’t have to be mean to them. Lying in bed, Thomas began to think that Santa was real after all, and he had better never be naughty again, or his evil twin was going to visit him.
Christmas morning, Susie woke him up. “Santa was here, and he ate all the cookies. Get up, Tommy. Hurry.” At first, his head was fuzzy. He had been dreaming of evil Santa all night and replaying what happened. Had it been a dream? He saw his sister looking at him. “Have you been downstairs yet?” Shaking her head no, he told her to wait for him. After washing up, he walked out with Susie by his side as they descended the stairs. His mother came out of the kitchen, a big smile on her face. “Merry Christmas, you two! You must have been very good. Look under the tree.” Thomas saw his sister run toward the tree, where a pile of gifts lay. Susie laughed, looking up at him. “Santa answered me. I just know it.”
Looking around, he didn’t see his father. His mom saw and stood beside him, whispering, “There was a note. Your father decided to leave and said we shouldn’t bother looking for him. I know he wasn’t very good to us, but I do wish him well. As for the gifts, I’ve been saving for months. I also got a job offer last night. Day hours, better pay, and benefits. We’re going to be fine, Tom, Tom.” He saw his mother smile, and she looked happier than she had in a long time. His sister called him over, and he sat as she handed him a box. “It says it’s from Santa.” Opening it up, he saw a snow globe, and Santa was in his sleigh, the reindeer pulling it. A note fell out, and opening it, his eyes widened. It said, “Merry Christmas, Thomas. In the end, you were nice. Keep it up. Ho, ho, ho, Santa. P.S. Krampus says hello.”
Thomas made a vow to never become his father, no matter what. He didn’t want a visit from the evil Santa or to find out what he did with those who deserved to be punished.
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