Tracy
Tracy stood up and let Phil take the seat in front of the computer. He may have looked young, but his shoulders curled like he carried more years than her dad. He hunched over the computer, his head held up by one hand while he worked the mouse with the other. He mumbled things Tracy couldn't quite understand, although they sounded an awful lot like words she wasn't allowed to say. How did anyone get to be such a grump?
Phil double clicked on a folder on the desktop. A login box appeared with the user name already populated—Mary Christmas. Phil glanced at the hallway to make sure no one was coming, then typed in the password. Tracy watched his fingers very carefully as he entered Nicholas343.
Numerous files popped up with titles like The List, Inkling Profiles, Sleigh Routes, Employee Selection, Holographic Imagery, and Inventions. Phil skipped all of those, going straight to a file labeled Mrs. Claus. He double clicked that, and a list of names appeared.
Tracy gasped when she recognized one of them. “Edward Higgens.”
“Do you know him?” Phil asked.
Tracy felt like she was at school, being asked a question she didn't know the answer to. “No, well, it's just…um…” She stuffed her hands in the Santa coat's pockets.
“Ah.” Beth got it before Phil did. “The name tag.”
Phil nodded, then clicked on Edward's name. A full profile opened up, complete with a picture of a man who looked very much like Santa, one with a curly beard.
Name: Edward Cornelius Higgens
Age: 75
Address: 11 Maple Drive, Sarasota, FL 34230
Occupation: Retired air force pilot
Recruitment date: July 31, 2009
Recruiter: Phil Marlin
Side effects to Santa program: None
“Side effects?” Tracy asked.
“Nausea, vomiting, disorientation, memories of the sleigh ride…” Phil might have kept going with his list if Tracy hadn't stopped him.
“Memories. Are you saying this guy pretends to be Santa, then you take away his memory?”
Phil sighed. “It's more complicated than that. You wouldn't understand.”
Tracy placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head in a way that would have gotten her sent straight to her room if she'd done it in front of her mom. “I'm ten. Not an idiot. Try me.”
Phil looked to Beth like he was asking for help. The two of them exchanged a few silent gestures which Tracy took to mean they were fighting over who talked next.
“Oh, for Pete's sake. Someone answer me.”
“Hey,” Beth said. “Cut the attitude. We're trying to figure out the best way to address this.”
“Which is not at all,” Phil insisted. Again, he glanced at the door. “If Walt finds out, it doesn’t matter what you think or how much you trust this girl, he is going to wipe her mind.”
Beth didn't speak for a long time, and Tracy realized it was because the woman was scared.
Now, Tracy was scared. Who was Walt? “What's a mind wipe?”
“It's nothing you have to worry about,” Beth finally answered, but she didn't seem too sure about it. She shooed Phil out of the chair, and he went back to lean against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He looked like a statue that was about to crumble. For the first time, Tracy wondered if Santa's place was safe after all. Well, if they were in Alabama, it wasn't really Santa's place, was it? Who owned this operation? Who was in charge here? And if they wiped her mind, how badly would it hurt?
Beth took over the seat and babbled on about the process of choosing Santas. Tracy only half listened. What was the point if they were going to make her forget anyway? She had worked so hard to save Pim, and now instead of saving her, she'd gotten herself kidnapped. Would she ever see Pim again? And would she remember her if she did?
Tracy's knees started to shake. She clutched the edge of the desk, and her stomach clenched itself into a little ball. She felt herself sinking to the ground.
“Um, Beth…” Phil interrupted.
Beth stopped her monologue long enough to look at Tracy. Her eyes grew wide with horror. “Oh, honey. No.”
Tracy sat on the floor with her knees folded against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her mind felt as vacant as the pretend Santas.
Beth slid down to the floor beside Tracy and scooped her up into her arms. “Sweetie, no. We didn't mean to scare you. It's just, you've thrown us for a loop here. We're still trying to figure things out.”
“Are you…” Asking the question meant that she might get an answer she didn't want to hear, but she had to ask it anyway. “Are you going to let me go home, or am I trapped here?”
“Trapped is such an ugly word,” said a squeaky voice from the doorway, “but I'd say it's accurate.”