I shot him a look. “Don’t ask.” To the class I said, “Santa questions and beliefs are not something we should be talking about in school. The same is true for our Elf on the Shelf. You don’t have to believe in Bertram, but it’s not your place to ruin someone else’s Christmas magic.”
Hands shot into the air. I realized too late, in my effort to protect more kids from Brody’s Scrooge behavior, I’d opened the door to a hundred questions I didn’t want to answer.
“Erm, Audrey?”
“Why wouldn’t someone believe in Santa? Does that mean he’s not real?” Her big blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
“Yep!” Brody hollered from the back of the room. “Sure does!”
This was the product of having too many older siblings. “Brody,” I snapped for the hundredth time today. “Stop being mean.” He raised a singular eyebrow, unphased by my command, ready for battle.
“Ms. Haden,” Audrey hiccupped, on the verge of tears.
I was losing them. The whole class was going to be sobbing before I could get a handle on this.
“What do you think?” It was Sam’s calm, authoritative voice, demanding the kids listen to him. I was shocked into silence. All I could do was turn and look at the man—the man I’d been spending evenings with, grabbing takeout with, driving around to look at lights with, teaching how to bake cookies with, curling up next to so I could read my Christmas smut while he replied to emails with, making plans for Christmas break with, falling in love with.
Audrey let out a shuddering breath and said, “I think he’s real.”
Sam winked at her, and even though she was only six, I knew she was as gooey as I was under the charm of those green eyes. “Then that’s all that matters, kiddo. Who cares what that little clown thinks? If you believe in Santa, then he believes in you too.”
Her face instantly cleared up, as did half the classes. I jumped back into teaching, ignoring the hammering of my swooning heart, the flutter in my belly, the way I wanted to take Sam’s hand and pull him into my storage closet so I could have my wicked way with him.
“Bam Bam’s right,” I told the class with a genuine smile while he growled at the use of his nickname. “No one can tell you whether you should believe in Santa or not. That’s up to you, babes. Christmas is full of magic. We see magic everywhere.” I pointed at Bertram. “Our elf friend is hanging from the ceiling. That is magical. The lights outside this classroom, in the hallway, and on the building, and all throughout town—they’re magical too. I went ice skating at the new outdoor ice-skating rink a week ago. And I thought that was incredibly magical.” Their expressions had started to change. Their eyes were full of wonder again. Brody was in the corner sulking, armscrossed over his small chest, but he was quiet—another magical moment. “Everyone, get out your journals. That will be our final assignment for today: draw the last time you got to experience Christmas magic.”
While I helped some students get out their supplies, Sam walked over to Brody and squatted down to look him in the eye. I wasn’t sure what exactly was said between them, but Sam was firm, serious, gentle. Brody argued at first but eventually backed down, his tense shoulders softened, his furrowed brow relaxed.
It was the most incredible thing to watch Brody respond to an adult he respected. Yes, Sam was his uncle, but even Dr. Hobbs couldn’t get Brody to settle down when he was worked up.
The Brody who returned to his desk and pulled out his journal was an entirely different Brody than the one who was trying to ruin everyone’s Christmas and incite a rebellion. This Brody was excited to do his work, was kind to his tablemates, and had focused all his chaotic energy into diligent effort. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, and his brow crinkled over his eyes in the most adorable rendition of a serious student I’d ever seen.
“What did you say to him?” I whispered when Sam made his way back to my desk.
He grinned conspiratorially. “He didn’t think Santa could afford to get him what he really wanted for Christmas. I think he was trying to convince himself Santa wasn’t real so he wouldn’t be disappointed when he didn’t get what he wanted this year.”
“What did he want?” I asked, imagining the most extravagant request from Brody Perkins. A house on the moon? The continent of South America? His regular teacher back?
“His very own Meta Quest 3S, so he doesn’t have to share with his brothers anymore.”
“Oh, my gosh, no wonder he was pre-preparing himself. That sounds very expensive.”
Sam chuckled. “Yes, it is.”
“You’re going to buy it for him, aren’t you?”
Sam dipped his head to hide his smile. In the calmest and most collected voice ever, he said, “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
I stared at him, mouth agape. “It sounds exactly like you.”
“Look at him go,” Sam murmured, pride warming each word. “You just have to find the right carrot sometimes.”
I huffed out a deep sigh. “This might get us to Christmas break in . . .” I looked at the wall clock, “fifteen minutes, but I can’t give him a new VR every time he makes a fuss.”
“Oh, no, he’s a terrible kid,” Sam agreed, chuckling. “And he has a lot of school left to go.” Another grin, another flash of that cozy pride for this little boy in his bright eyes. “But school doesn’t last forever. Look at me. I hated every second of it. Now I’m out there thriving.”
I snorted a laugh, remembering Cooper and Sam’s antics from high school. They both truly hated school. They were both absolute hooligans. And now they were both incredibly successful men. Still, I couldn’t help but give him a hard time. “Define thriving.”
He mock scowled at me. “I know you’re new around here, Haden, but people know me as the Christmas King.”
