Free Benny: A Tale of a Christmas Toy by K. C. Scott Page A

blinked, but the
muzzle didn't even twitch.
    "What's wrong?" Pam said, looking down on
them.
    "I don't know," he said. He tried some of
the other buttons. The volume went up and down. The narration
started over. The narration skipped ahead to another section.
Nothing changed the mouth.
    "Maybe you didn't turn the mouth on," Pam
said, standing next to him, arms crossed.
    "I don't remember hearing you had to turn on
the mouth," he said.
    She retrieved the directions from the box,
scanned them for a few seconds.
    "Well?" he said.
    "You're right. The mouth is just supposed to
work."
    "Benny's broken!" Annie said.
    "Well shoot," Benjamin said, feeling
depressed. He had braved those long lines for nothing.
    "Make him work," Annie said.
    "Now, sweetheart," Pam said, "he's broken,
but we can get him fixed."
    "How? Santa's gone now."
    Pam looked at Benjamin. Her expression said
it all: what should we say?
    "Oh, well," Benjamin said, fumbling for an
answer. "Santa is gone, that's true, but . . . he always sends one
of his elves around to pick up the broken toys and fix them. So
we'll get a new one for you."
    Her face brightened. "Today?"
    "No, no, not today. Santa and his elves are
very tired the day after Christmas. But tomorrow."
    "But I want him to talk now!"
    "Why don't we open another one of your
gifts," Pam said.
    "But Mom!"
    "Here, look at this one. It's certainly
heavy. Why don't you open it?"
    Annie stuck out her lower lip, but didn't
resist the square package Pam held out to her. She opened this one
more slowly, frowning each time she looked up, but once she had it
unwrapped, her expression changed.
    "A new bouncy ball!"
    "Go ahead and open it," Pam said.
    His wife took a seat next to him on the
couch, placing her hand on his knee. Together they watched their
daughter take the smooth green ball out of the cardboard
container.
    Annie sprang to her feet.
    "I need to get my red one too," she said,
and raced out of the room.
    "Dear, wait—" Pam began, but her daughter
had already disappeared down the hall. When she was gone, she
turned to Benjamin. "So where did you get it?"
    "Bluebear?"
    "Yes, did you get it at Penny's?"
    "No, Lindel's."
    "Think they'll be open tomorrow?"
    "Probably. I'll take it back first thing in
the—"
    Benjamin saw his daughter's shadow at his
feet. He turned, and there she was, looking shocked and confused.
The cassette player clicked as it came to the end of the tape, the
room silent except for a car sloshing over the street outside.
    "Oh dear," Pam said. "I thought you were
going to get your ball?"
    "I thought Santa bought it," Annie said. "It
said Santa on the card."
    "Well, he did," Benjamin said. "He just — he
couldn't pack it in his sleigh this year because he was so loaded
down, so he sent money to us, and—"
    "Dear," Pam said.
    "—and, so we, uh, we bought it for him,
and—"
    "Dear," Pam said. "Please. It's one thing to
let her harbor a harmless fantasy, and another thing to lie
blatantly. It's okay. It's time."
    "Lie?" Annie said.
    "You're old enough now to know the truth,"
Pam said. "I'm sorry, dear, but there's no Santa Claus. That's just
make believe for kids. Your Mommy and Daddy buy everything for you
because they love you."
    It was one of those moments Benjamin would
remember for the rest of his life. How his daughter's perfect skin
seemed iridescent in the wan, gray light from outside. How the
light in her eyes, always watery and shimmering, seemed to dim. How
her narrow shoulders slumped as if she had been dealt a terrible
blow.
    It tore Benjamin up inside. He wished she
could have gone on believing the fantasy for another year or
two.
    "I'm sorry, honey," Pam said. "Are you
okay?"
    Annie nodded.
    "I'm really sorry," Benjamin said. "I didn't
want it to slip out."
    She looked up, stared at them both for a
long moment, and then said with utter seriousness, "I'm glad I
know."
    "You are?" Benjamin said.
    "Because," Annie said. "Because what if . .
. what if I grew up and I became a