The coach’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Benny lost the fight to stay quiet. He scrambled to the gate and flipped the latch, his brain in high gear, which was saying something. “Uh, excuse me? I have an idea!”
Every head turned.
He swallowed hard but powered through, stepping out onto the ice in sneakers, moving gingerly toward Red and the coach.
“What if Santa…had a helper? Like, um, an elf who skated with him? The elf could help toss the gifts.”
“I can’t spare a skater to use as an elf,” she said.
“I’ll do it,” Benny offered. “He’s my great-grandpa and we actually have an elf outfit in the attic.”
The coach blinked at him as though he’d suggested turning the whole show into a zombie musical. Then—miracle of miracles—her face lost some of its nasty pinch. “Go put on rental skates, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Red groaned. “Oh, for crying out loud.”
Benny shot him a look. “It can’t get any worse, Grandpa.”
Five minutes later, Benny was wobbling across the ice in skates that were a little big. His jeans were rolled and his helmet sparkled with a red bow—the only one they had available in his size.
“Ho-ho-ho,” Grandpa muttered as Benny clung to his sleeve. “This’ll end well.”
“Just don’t fall, okay?” Benny said. “If you go down, we both go down.”
“Oh, I’m aware.”
The music started again. Red lumbered forward, muttering his distaste for everything about this. Benny tried to match his pace, which was like chasing a refrigerator on wheels.
When the toy-throwing cue came again, Benny whispered, “Okay, Grandpa, you do the waving, I’ll handle the pitching.”
“Grumpy Santa doesn’t wave,” he grumbled.
“You’re right, but just greet the crowd. Not with the, uh, wrong finger.”
Grandpa snorted a laugh and squeezed Benny’s shoulder, his watery old eyes looking down with that face that always preceded something like, “You’re a keeper, Benny-bean.”
But he just swallowed hard and mouthed, “Thanks.”
“Don’t worry, Grandpa. I got your back.”
“It’s not my back I’m worried about, it’s my backside.”
“You’ll be fine.” Benny grabbed a handful of soft toys and started tossing them gently toward the small group of spectators along the fence. The toys sailed through the air, landing perfectly in eager hands. Cheers erupted.
No-Name Coach instructed them to throw the toys back, since this was just rehearsal and she was Grinchy like that.
“Ho-ho-HO!” Red bellowed, voice suddenly booming. He even managed a small shuffle—his version of dancing.
Benny laughed and forgot the cold, forgot his wobbly knees, forgot everything but how proud he was of this ridiculous, wonderful man.
When the girls in the front row finished with a big circle around Santa and Benny, the rink exploded with applause. Red and Benny took a bow—well, Benny bowed. Red kind of bent forward to catch his breath.
The coach skated up, eyes shining. “That was fantastic! Perfect energy! Benny, you’re officially part of the show!”
After the rehearsal, Benny and Red trudged up the street toward Sugarfall, where Red had parked.
Inside, his mother greeted them from behind the display case, where she was lining up mini-cinnamon rolls slathered in icing. “Hello, Santa and unofficial helper.”
