“We should play with the sleds first,” Timothy said, “before the other kids come out and ruin the snow.”
“I’m going to get a knife with a real L-5 crystal handle.”
Timothy shrugged. “My aunt’s going to give me one of hers someday.
She has lots of stuff from when she was a spacer.”
“Yeah, but my knife will be new. Then I’d like to see Bigfoot get away from me!”
“We can bring Bigfoot back on my sled,” Timothy said excitedly. He chugalugged the rest of his chocolate. “Early, right after presents. Meet me at the hill.”
“Why at the hill?” I said suspiciously. But Timothy was already heading for the door and pulling on his boots.
“Best place for sledding.”
“But what about your aunt’s mower?” I said, whispering now.
“Early,” he reminded me as he stepped out into the snow. I followed him, holding the door open. “And bring your sled.”
“What time do you open presents?” I said. But if Timothy answered, I didn’t hear.
The snow was falling in fat flakes, and the wind had come up and the snow was starting to drift over the hedges. Funny how it wasn’t really dark with all that white around, and funny, too, how I wasn’t so glad that it was coming down. What good was it without a sled? I could use the cardboard if I could find it again, which I doubted, for I could tell that if it kept snowing at the rate I was seeing from my doorway, there would be half a meter or more by morning, which also meant the grass cutter would get clogged before it got five meters from Timothy’s crazy aunt’s house. Timothy would let me try his sled if I pulled it up the hill, ‘cause if he didn’t I wouldn’t let him hold my L-5 crystal-handled knife… if I got one.
“Close the door!” my father shouted, and I closed it and went to bed early, knowing I couldn’t sleep but wanting to because morning would come sooner if I did, and when it did I would not have a sled — maybe not even an L-5 crystal-handled knife — only an old Adventure Station that Timothy didn’t want to play until after lunch, and who cared about snow anyhow, even if it did come down so fast and hard that it was catching on my bedroom window like a blanket before my sleepy eyes.
I woke to silence and the sure knowledge that it was Christmas morning. I didn’t know whether to look out the window or check under the tree first, until I heard my sister in the hall and made a dash to beat her to the living room, where my parents had piled all the packages, with their red bows and wrappings, under the tree.
