Free The Perfect Present by Morgan Billingsley Page A

anyway,” he said.
    We went back and forth like that all the way home and he wouldn’t change his mind. I probably shouldn’t have cared, but Max was my twin. If he was giving up on Santa, our bond was broken. My life was over. My twin was growing up and I didn’t even know him anymore. For all I know, he could be running a super spy agent business.
    When we got home, my mom was waiting with our snack and I ate in silence. Then, when my mom asked what was wrong, Max blurted out.
    â€œShe’s mad because I said there’s no Santa Claus.”
    â€œStop saying that!” I yelled.
    â€œYou two settle down,” my mom said as the phone rang. “I’m going to go answer this call, then we’ll talk about it when I get back.”
    She took the phone and went into her office. That’s when we had our argument that had me ready to punch him in the eye.
    But just as I felt myself getting mad all over again, it hit me. My brother was a nerd. I needed to get through to him in black and white. So, I wrote him a letter. Or rather, Santa wrote him a letter.
    Dear Max,
    I am sorry to hear you don’t believe in me from one of my elves that was watching you to see if you were being naughty or nice. You actually had been really nice lately and I was up here in the North Pole gathering up some really good gifts for you, but I guess I don’t need to anymore because you don’t believe in me. I’m sorry this is about to happen. Christmas morning, you’re going to wake up and go downstairs and your sister and your parents are going to have many gifts, but there will be none for you. Why? Simply because after you stop believing in me, I don’t exist in your head anymore.
    I saw your sister trying really hard to make you see the bright side in this, tell her I said thank you, but if he doesn’t believe, he just doesn’t believe.
    One last thing: don’t let any of your friends like Peter take the joy of what I bring from you. I know you don’t believe in me anymore but don’t let them make up your mind for you.
    Have a great Christmas. You might as well sleep in since you won’t be getting anything.
    Love, Santa
    How’s that for an eight-year-old? Pretty good, huh? I know.
    Christmas was still two and a half weeks away, so I gave the letter to Avery at school the next day. Her mom is a teacher, so she got to school before everyone else. We talked over the plan and Operation: Santa is Real was in full affect.
    The next day, Avery was going to put the letter in Max’s box at school so it would be there when we arrived. Since he and I arrived at the same time, he’d never suspect that it was me. Am I smart or what?
    Now, it was time. Max and I were all dressed and ready for school. Avery had sent me a text on my iPad about ten minutes ago.
    Operation: Santa is real is a go. The package has been delivered!
    I love my partner in crime!
    My part of the plan was to get Max to his cubby before class started. I did and held my breath as he pulled the letter out.
    Max read it (it took forever), and he turned to me as soon as he finished. “Did you write this?”
    â€œWrite what?” I asked, playing dumb. “I just walked in with you, how could I have written anything? What is it?” I leaned in to get a better look.
    He moved the letter away so I couldn’t see it, before turning to look around the room. His eyes stopped on Avery and I got butterflies in my stomach. I had forgotten one very important fact. Avery had a huge crush on Max. He thought girls were icky and never paid her any attention, but today, he must’ve knownsomething was up.
    My brother put on a super sad face and eased over to her desk.
    â€œAvery, be honest. Do you know where this letter came from? I know you’ll tell me the truth.” Then he flashed a puppy dog look at her.
    Don’t do it! I wanted to scream. Don’t fall for the dimples .
    Too late.