Mr. Felton had put the Christmas tree lights back into place, and a pile of presents was spread out under the tree. Philip’s heart gave a jump, but then he remembered they were Francis’s presents.
“There are no candy canes on the tree any more, Francis,” his mother reminded him.
“Where are they?” Francis demanded.
Francis’s mother pointed to Philip’s mother. “Ask if you want one.”
Francis glared at his aunt, who quickly looked away.
Emery found his coat and bolted out the front door without a goodbye.
Philip looked out of the living room window at the snow still falling hard.
“We better go, honey,” said Francis’s father.
Philip’s father said, “Are you sure your plane will take off in this?”
“Oh, yes,” Francis’s father snapped. “Oh, yes. We found an earlier flight, and they’re . . . they’re very good with runways at the airport. Come on, honey.”
Francis’s parents quickly gathered their things. Francis’s mother called over her shoulder to her son. “Behave, Francis.” She and her husband stepped briskly out of the door.
“I hope they don’t trip and break their necks in the rush,” Mr. Felton grumbled.
“So, Francis,” said Mrs. Felton. “We’re having steak sandwiches for dinner. I hope you like them.”
“I don’t eat snakes.”
“Snakes? No, no. Not snakes. Steak. Beef. You’ll like them. Onions and peppers.”
“I don’t like onions and peppers. I won’t eat them. Or snakes.”
“We’re not having snakes, Francis. Oh, you’ll eat something, I’m sure. Philip, entertain your cousin.”
Mr. Felton walked off, saying, “I’ll get the other Christmas balls.”
Francis frowned at Philip. “See, you have to entertain me.”
“Mom, we’re going over Emery’s, all right?” Philip knew he hadn’t given Emery much time, but he didn’t want to spend a single minute alone with Francis. He hoped his mother wouldn’t use the terrible weather to ground him at home, but she seemed happy to see him go.
“Yes, by all means. Go visit Emery. Let me dress both of you warmly.”
Mrs. Felton fussed with the boys until they were wrapped like mummies, and then held the front door open for them.
“Hurry up,” she said. “You’re letting in the cold air.”
Philip and Francis stepped outside into the snowstorm.
“Everybody seems to be in hurry around here,” said Francis.
The boys stood still a moment and inspected the weather. The snow fell slightly sideways, and after a few moments their faces were wet, and snow covered their eyelashes.
“Where’s Elroy live?” Francis asked, trudging down the walk.
“His name’s not Elroy; it’s Emery. Seven houses down across the street. See the house with the Santa Claus on the lawn?”
“Hey, I forgot my candy canes. Go get them for me.”
“What?”
“In your house. Go get them. On the table next to the sofa. I’ll wait here.”
“Emery probably has candy canes.”
“I don’t want probably candy canes. I want for sure candy canes. Go get them. Hurry up. I’m cold.”
“Aw for Pete’s sake,” Philip cried. “You don’t need them.”
“Go get them or I’m not going.”
Philip growled helplessly and turned back. He was covered with snow, so he took off all the clothing his mother had wrapped him in and dropped it in the hallway on the newspaper his mother put out for shoes. He investigated both tables next to the sofa, one on each side, as well as the coffee table in front of the sofa. No candy canes. He looked around and saw the candy canes his father had taken off the tree spread out on the dining room table. He ran and grabbed two of them. Then he hustled back to the hallway and repacked himself in his coat and muffler and gloves and hat. He opened the door and stepped out into the storm. Philip looked up and down the street. Francis had disappeared.
Where could he be? Not back into the house, for sure. No, he probably didn’t want to stand in the snow, so he went to Emery’s house by himself. Philip lowered his head and set out through the blowing snow. He checked for traffic but not a single car came in sight. He crossed the street, and a moment later rang Emery’s bell. Emery opened the door.
“Not yet, Philip. I need a few more minutes to hide my stuff.”
Philip’s stomach dropped. “Isn’t Francis here?”
“Here? No, why would he be here? Don’t you have him?”
“No, I left him outside my door. He said he forgot his stupid candy canes and sent me back to get them. When I came out again, he was gone.”
“You think somebody snatched him?”
“Ha! If they did, they’ll give him back real fast. No, Emery. Nobody snatched him. There aren’t any cars or people around. He probably started walking and got lost or something. Put your coat on. We have to find him.”
“Can’t we leave him?”
“Emery, go and get your coat.”
A moment later Emery, bundled up the same as Philip, closed the door behind him.
“Where’ll we look?” Emery asked.
“I showed Francis your house. Maybe he passed it and kept walking. Let’s look up there.”
Philip and Emery, squinting through the falling snow, walked to the corner, heads swiveling right and left.
Philip pointed. “You go left around the block, and I’ll go right. I’ll meet you at the bottom of our street.”
The boys set out. Philip stopped every few houses to shout out Francis’s name, but in vain.
“Nothing,” said Philip when he met Emery at the bottom of the block.
“Me, too,” Emery reported. “You better tell your mother.”
“I told you Francis was trouble. I don’t want to tell her in person. Let’s go back to your house, and I’ll call her. Where could that . . . that . . .”
“Knucklehead?”
“Yeah, knucklehead be?”
“First you don’t want his presence, now you do want his presence.”
Philip ignored him. “Let’s go. I’m freezing.”
Once inside Emery’s house, Emery said, “Put your coat and stuff here on the papers.” Emery’s mother also spread newspaper out for wet shoes. “If we get the whole floor wet . . .”
Emery and Philip noticed it at the same time. A wet coat, gloves, and hat already lay on the newspaper. They looked at one another. Emery’s mother stepped out of the living room.
“Oh, there you two are. Your friend’s here waiting for you. Where’d you get to?”
Philip and Emery didn’t answer. Instead, they walked to the living room, and there lay Francis on his stomach reading a comic book, a plate of cookies beside him, Emery’s other comic books spread out within easy reach.
“What are you doing here?” Philip cried.
“Hey, they’re my comic books,” said Emery.
Emery’s mother interrupted. “Emery, be polite. Francis is your guest.”
“Pest, you mean,” Emery muttered.
“He’s been waiting patiently for you two. What kept you?” asked Mrs. Wyatt.
“We were looking for him,” Emery said in exasperation.
“Well, he’s been right here. I gave him your comic books so he’d have something to do until you got here. Why were they in the closet? I nearly couldn’t find them.”
Emery moaned.
Francis looked up from his comic and glared at Emery.
“You told me to be neat,” said Emery weakly.
“Well, you boys have fun. This is no day to be outside. Would you like to stay for dinner, Philip?”
“Yes!” Francis blurted. “What are you having?” He pointed at Philip. “He’s having snake for dinner.”
“What? Snake?” Mrs. Wyatt wasn’t sure she heard correctly.
Philip’s hands clenched into fists. “Not snake, Francis. Steak. Steak sandwiches.”
“Yeah, you say steak. Sounded like snake sandwiches to me. Sure, we’ll stay.” Francis dropped his eyes to his comic book.
“Wonderful. I’ll make spaghetti and call your mother, Philip.”
When Emery’s mother disappeared, Philip asked angrily, “Where’d you go? I thought you got kidnapped or something.”
Without looking up from his comic, Francis said, “I hid.”
“You hid! Why’d you hide?” Philip asked.
“I knew you’d get Ellery and look for me. Those two candy canes for me? I wanted to see for myself whether he had any good stuff.” Francis took the two candy canes from Philip and laid them next to two more lying on the floor beside him.
“Who’s Ellery?” Emery asked.
“You are,” said Philip. “Emery, Francis. His name is Emery. And you didn’t forget your candy canes, did you?”
“Whatever. Shhh, I’m trying to read.”
Philip and Emery looked at one another, and Philip whispered, “At least he’s quiet.”
“Don’t tear out any pages,” said Emery.
Francis ignored Emery and read on.
Philip shrugged. “Let’s read comic books, too,” he said softly. “We can keep an eye on him.” So the boys settled onto floor, chose a comic book, and spent a quiet hour until dinner.