The Paper Bag Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

long as you wash your hands very thoroughly before each visit. Also, you may choose to don the elf costumes if you wish, but it is not mandatory.
    I will not be around for a few weeks, as I have some important business to attend to at a children’s center up north. Please remember to collect any remaining Christmas lists and save them for my return. You have also been granted permission to take part in our annual Christmas pageant to be held on Christmas Eve. Parts will be handed out this Friday night at
7:00 so don’t be late.
    Finally, do take the time to get to know Madhu and Katrina. They are your most important assignments while I’m gone!
    Sincerely, Dr. Christoffer K. Ringle, MD
    Once we were on the fifth floor and had signed in at the nurses’ station, we decided to start our evening by making rounds to each of the rooms in search of red papers. Aaron knocked on the first door.
    “Come in,” came a voice. Opening the door we found a young boy sitting up in bed watching television. I recognized him immediately as Timothy, the boy who wanted the Air Jammer Road Rammer.
    “Hi Tim,” I said. “We’re the elves who were here the other night with Santa.”
    “Oh hi!” he replied. “I didn’t recognize you without the costumes.”
    “Yeah,” said Aaron. “We felt kinda girly in those tights so we left them downstairs. Anyway, we’re just going around trying to collect any Christmas lists that weren’t already given to Santa. Do you have one?”
    “Nope. I gave mine back to Dr. Ringle. I wanted to make sure he had it before he left for the North Pole.”
    Aaron and I looked at each other.
    “What do you mean? Why would he go to the North Pole?” I asked.
    “Well you should know since you work for him. That’s where he lives—at the North Pole. Duh, where else would Santa Claus live?” said the boy in all seriousness. Tim folded his arms tightly together across his waist.
    Aaron and I traded glances again.
    “But he’s a doctor. Even you called him Dr. Ringle,” I responded. “He’s just a regular guy.”
    “Yep. He likes to make people think he’s just a regular guy. But the nurses say every year he goes away suddenly for several weeks right before Christmas. I heard he goes to the North Pole! And what about his name? You can’t say he’s not Santa with that name.”
    “What about his name? Dr. Ringle. It’s just a name. Dr. Christoffer K. Ringle, MD.” And then, as I repeated the full name aloud, I understood what Timothy meant—Dr. Ringle’s name
was
suspiciously close to that of Santa’s famous alias: Chris Kringle. And he’d written in his note that he was going up north to a children’s center, which confirmed the nurses’ stories about annual trips.
    Is it possible, I wondered, that the children’s center is just a crafty name for the toy factory where he and his elves make toys for children? No way.
    “But . . .” said Aaron, “there’s no such thing as a real Santa Claus so it’s not worth talking about.”
    “Right,” I agreed tentatively. My brother was wise, I knew, but I still found the parallels perplexing. Even the remote chance that Santa Claus might actually exist was thrilling. “Well, sorry to bother you, Tim, but we’ve got to go to the other rooms now.”
    “No bother. Come back any time!” he yelled as we closed the door behind us. “And put in a good word for me with Santa!”
    For the next thirty or forty minutes we continued knocking on each of the patients’ doors on the fifth floor. Not surprisingly, behind each door we found a child who had already given his or her list back to Dr. Ringle during the party on Monday night. Still, all of the children were genuinely pleasant and were more than eager to talk with Santa’s helpers, even if we lacked the appropriate attire.
    In much less time than we would have liked, we finished speaking to almost every child. There remained only two doors, Katrina’s and Madhu’s. A pit grew in my stomach as I