Page 10 of Santa Daddy, I'm Not the One

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.” He crossed his arms. “None of us like the fact that you are here, Landon, but we’ll have to make the best of the situation. Either you can make your stay here unpleasant, or you can, for once in your life, try to understand the concept of being good.”

“Why should I be good?” I fired back. “People only want you to be that way so they can take advantage of you. I’d rather just be myself, thank you very much.”

Santa stared at me, and I couldn’t look away. I wanted to continue my rant, but it was as if he was seeing into my soul.

“Someone hurt you,” he said softly.

I inhaled sharply and turned away from him. The bag the elves had thrown over my head lay on the floor, and I snatched it up. “Since no one wants to take me home, I’ll just take myself.”

“What is he doing?” Pix asked.

I flung the bag over my head. Nothing happened. “Come on, dammit!” I yanked the bag from over my head and threw it onto the floor. “Why won’t it work?”

“You don’t have the magic,” Dix said with a shrug.

“Magic isn’t real,” I yelled. “And you’re not real. Stinking bag.” I jumped on it, but nothing I did would put a dent in it.

“That’s enough, Landon,” Santa said sternly. “Now sit in the corner and think about your behavior and your attitude.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, you’ll never leave this room while you’re here. But if you behave, I’ll show you around, make it as pleasant for you as possible.”

I turned my back to him lest I caved in from looking at him for too long. “I don’t want to see your stupid North Pole. I just want to go home.” For so long, I’d been without a home, and now that I had one, they were going to rip me away from it?

“I’ll leave you to think about it,” Santa said. “Dix, Pix, see that he doesn’t leave this room. When he’s ready to change his attitude, you let me know.”

4

LANDON

For two long days, Santa and his elves kept me confined in the guestroom, making me a prisoner in a festive cage that did nothing to quell my anxiety. They treated me well, bringing me all sorts of delicious foods, some of which I’d never eaten before, but it didn’t take away from the fact that I couldn’t set a foot outside the room. The North Pole, as they called it, felt more like an elaborate setup for a Christmas-themed reality show. Every minute that passed, I expected to see a camera crew hiding somewhere, but I’d checked everywhere and hadn’t found any hidden cameras. Since my arrival, I hadn’t stepped out of the room, and my only glimpse of the outside world was through the frosted window. And the endless expanse of snow that stretched as far as the eyes could see didn’t fill me with joy.

After waking up on the second day to find myself still not home, I had to slowly accept that I might not be dreaming at all. Maybe I was dead, and this place was hell. It surely looked like hell to me.

The elves visited several times during the day to ensure I was okay, but Santa didn’t show up once, which was disappointing, given he was the main attraction. They’d brought for me several board games, but I’d stacked them in the corner of the room. I’d refused to let them entertain me, shunning every attempt to brighten my day. I was trying to escape, not becoming too comfortable in my prison.

Snippets of conversations and passing remarks from the elves gave me an inkling of a town nearby—Twinkle Glen. On the third day, I decided to make my grand escape through the window. The white landscape might have seemed daunting, but the four walls were closing in on me. But first, I needed to know more about Twinkle Glen or how to return to my home.

A knock sounded on the door, and Dix poked his head in. He pushed a food cart of more delicious items. The first day, I’d refused to eat, but hunger had gotten the best of me. Starving myself wouldn’t do because I would need all my strength to escape.

“I brought lunch,” Dix said with a smile. Whether it was because he felt sorry for kidnapping me or something else, I had no idea, but he was especially nice to me. “Do you want to eat now?”

“There’s nothing else to do besides eating,” I mumbled. “I swear you all brought me here to punish me by making me eat myself into a coma.”

Dix laughed. “You’re funny.”

I scowled. I wasn’t trying to be. But not even my scowl worked on him anymore. He removed the covers from the dishes as I took my seat.

The cart Dix wheeled in was laden with a spread that was both whimsical and mouthwatering. The aroma of the bowl of steaming soup was rich and inviting, with whiffs of roasted chestnuts and winter spices. Beside it was a platter of sandwiches, but not the kind I was used to. They were miniature, cut into festive shapes like stars and Christmas trees, with various fillings from sweet cranberry and turkey to savory roast beef with a hint of horseradish.

Next to the sandwiches was a colorful salad, the greens interspersed with pomegranate seeds, candied walnuts, and crumbled blue cheese, all drizzled with a light, tangy dressing. For dessert, Dix had brought a small plate of cookies, each a miniature masterpiece of icing and sprinkles, as well as a few slices of rich, dark fruitcake dotted with glistening candied fruits.

Dix poured a cup of hot, spiced apple cider, its steam carrying the scent of cinnamon and cloves, and set it before me. “I hope you like it,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

I grudgingly admitted that it all looked amazing. “It smells good,” I grunted, not wanting to give them too much credit.

---