The days are growing shorter and shorter. In about a week we will have the shortest day of whole year. It was barely light when Sarah and I got up this morning, and now, in late afternoon, it is already growing dark again.
    Mrs. Benjamin has stopped by and picked up Sarah, and Evvie and I are sitting at the table in the kitchen, drinking hot chocolate. I stare out the window, to the back porch and our perfect Christmas tree. When we brought it home yesterday we stood it there in a bucket of water. Now it is waiting to be brought inside and decorated.
    I am still gazing out the window when Evvie says to me, "What are you thinking about, Tess? You have the weirdest expression on your face."
    What I am thinking right at this very second is that it isn't polite to tell people they look weird, and that Evvie could stand to be a little more tactful. But that sounds rude too, and Santa Claus might be listening. So I say, "I am thinking about Christmas Eve."
    "About seeing Santa Claus?" replies Evvie, and I am surprised she remembers.
    "Yes," I say cautiously.
    "Tess," Evvie begins, and she is using her most annoying big-sister voice. "Tell me...how, exactly, do you plan on seeing Santa?"
    "I am not just going to see him, I am going to meet him. I'm going to talk with him. I have a whole lot of questions to ask."


From On Christmas Eve. Copyright © 2006 by Ann M Martin. All rights reserved.