Read The Paper Bag Christmas for Free Online Page B

would go fine. She doesn’t seem too . . .”
    “Hey! I can still hear you! If you’re going to talk about me, at least do it to my face, you no good, clumsy servant of Santa!”
    We stood there for a few awkward moments, not sure whether to run and hide or just keep trying. Were it not for a promise made to Dr. Ringle that I would retrieve her Christmas list, I probably would have turned and walked back to Madhu’s room right then and forgotten all about Miss Katrina Barlow. But a promise is a promise.
    “Uh, okay,” I ventured. “Is that an invitation to come in?”
    “What?” she retorted sharply.
    “You said to come say it to your face. Can we . . . ummm . . . come in and talk to you then?”
    “That’s not what I meant. I meant you should just be quiet.”
    “I know,” I admitted. “But can we come in anyway? My brother is here with me this time, and we really want to talk to you.”
    It was silent for a few minutes. Then we head some soft ruffling noises followed by some shuffling and squeaks. I knew from my first visit that those noises were a good sign that she was getting ready for us, but I didn’t dare tell Aaron, lest she hear me and change her mind. After another minute or two of silence, she finally spoke again, this time in a much nicer tone.
    “Okay. You may come in—but only for a minute.”
    Because I’d already met Katrina before, if only long enough to make her cry, Aaron insisted that I lead the way into the room. With every ounce of caution I possessed, I carefully pulled the extra-large candy cane from the inside pocket of my coat and held it high in front of me, like a torch lighting my way. Then I gently pressed the door open and inched forward.
    “I’ve uh . . . I’ve brought you something, Katrina,” I said as my hand crossed the threshold, each finger holding tightly to the red and white striped peace offering I carried. “It’s bigger than the other candy . . .” My words cut off mid-sentence and my feet froze in place as I looked up and saw Katrina standing where she had the last time, against the opposite wall. Gone were the red pajamas wrapped in toilet paper, but she was still wearing the white paper bag over her head. I swallowed hard. “Katrina, is that a . . . another costume?”
    “You mean the bag? No, you dope!” she fired. “It wasn’t part of my candy cane costume either!”
    “Then why are you wearing it?” asked Aaron as he stepped to my side.
    “Are you serious? I guess my grandpa was right. He always used to say, ‘There’s no such thing as a dumb question, only dumb people.’ How about you take a guess, Mr. Genius?” Much to my relief, she was looking at Aaron. “Why do you suppose I have a bag on my head?”
    I couldn’t see the expression on her face because the bag covered it up, but her tone made it clear that this was a touchy subject.
    “Umm . . . ,” Aaron muttered, “maybe because your hair was messed up and you couldn’t find a hat to cover it?”
    “Wrong-o! How about you, Candy Man?” Now she was glaring at me.
    I lowered the candy cane as I weighed what I might say, but there were no good options. I knew full well that whatever I said would be wrong.
    “You . . . you probably have some bandages you don’t want us to see until they heal. Right?”
    “Wrong again! You want to know why I have a bag on my head?”
    It was a rhetorical question that required no formal response, but we both nodded our heads anyway while Katrina took a long pause. I could see through the eye holes in the bag that she was no longer looking at us but was staring down at the ground. She let out a big sigh, perhaps to release some anger before she exploded.
    “It’s,” she started again as her shoulders slumped forward. Her voice was barely audible. “It’s because I’m ugly. I wasn’t ugly before the cancer and all the treatments and stuff, you know. Now nobody would want to look at me without the bag. I don’t even like to look at