As she drifted to sleep, she thought less about her science project and Santa Command and more about the feeling the library gave her, that she was home and safe and happy.

Her dream started with her living room and the brown couch and the fishing line tied around her finger. It was Christmas Eve, and she was waiting for Santa to slide down the chimney. She was lying on the couch with her eyes closed, but was too anxious for sleep. Every time she heard a noise, she would peek at the fireplace with one eye. It wasn't until the house grew completely silent that he showed up.

“I'm here, Tracy,” came a soft, low voice from across the room.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Santa? I've been looking for you.”

He laughed in that merry way of his. His belly even shook. It made Tracy smile to see that he was just like the poem described him. “I see that. What can I do for you?”

“I need…something.” But she couldn't remember what. She knew it wasn't a toy or a book or a doll. It was something much more important.

“Did you send me a letter?”

“No, I don't think I did.” Tiny memories tugged at the corners of her mind, but they wouldn't form a complete thought. “A letter wasn't enough. It wouldn't work.”

Santa sat down on the sofa beside Tracy and sighed. “I get that a lot. Some kids have wishes, others have troubles.”

“Yeah. A trouble, and I need you to fix it.”

Santa wrapped his large, weathered hand around Tracy's small one. “You know,” he said in a way that made him seem very wise and very weary, “there are some troubles that even I can't fix.”

“I know that, but I'm pretty sure you weren't the one that was supposed to fix it.” Tracy shook her head. It was like she had a hundred different puzzle pieces floating around in her mind, but they were from a bunch of different puzzles, so only a few pieces matched up. “It was something I had to do, but it had everything to do with you.”

“Are you sure you don't need me? Sometimes, plans have to be modified.”

Tracy looked up into Santa's soft blue eyes, and was comforted by what she saw. Centuries of kindness and wisdom had been etched into his very core. This was Santa. Maybe he did hold the answer to her problem. She just had to figure out what the problem was.

She rubbed her fist across her eyes. “I should go back to sleep,” she said. Maybe her brain wouldn't feel so muddled in the morning. “Will I be able to find you when I wake up?”

“Most people wouldn't be able to, but I'll bet you're a little different than most.”

“Thank you.” Tracy laid her head on a fuzzy green throw pillow and as she drifted back to sleep, she heard Santa shuffling around in the living room, doing his job as only he could.

Tracy didn't know how long she slept. There could have been other dreams, but they were the unimportant kind, usually filled with talking spatulas and shifting landscapes. The dream about Santa sneaked through, his words stuck in her brain as if he had stitched them there.

Sometimes, plans have to be modified.

“Tracy?” A popping sound came from nearby. “Hello?”

Tracy rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, then blinked. Standing before her was a boy about her age. He was bigger than her though, like he might be a football player in a year or two. His hair was cut in a short, blonde buzz cut, and his head was tilted like he'd been calling her name for a while.

He snapped his thick fingers in front of her eyes, confirming her thoughts.

She pushed his hand out of the way and sat up straight in the chair. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I'm Jared,” he said in a tired voice that sounded like he had been dragged out of bed. “Beth sent me to get you.”