“I took it with me,” he replies. “I can play it in here just as easily as I can play it in my own room. I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight anyway. Santa’s here! Come see!”
With a groan, I let him pull me out of bed. “Just a quick look, but if it isn’t Santa at all and I’m right, then you have to be my slave for the whole day.”
“On Christmas?” Alex moans.
I can hear the disappointment in his voice. “The day after,” I concede. “But all day long.”
“And what if it really isSanta?” he asks. “What do I get from you if I’m right?”
“Respect,” I tell him, shrugging my long hair over my shoulder.
“Is that all?” he grouses.
“All day long,” I add. “Isn’t that enough?”
* * * *
I’ve known the truth about Santa Claus since I was ten.