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about hating the Misfits and being just like them gnawed at me and kept me from being happy because I wondered if she was right. It had always made sense to forget about the Misfits. The good girls and boys deserved the best toys. The bad kids got a lump of coal. That seemed like justice. But now I reckoned the Misfits were kind of in the same boat as naughty tykes. Maybe it wasn’t their fault that they were messed up, but the bad kids could say the same thing about their parents. If my trying to teach Raymond Hall how to be a better parent was so swell, could I ignore how we failed the Misfits? Nothing seemed as simple as naughty and nice anymore.

“Gumdrop, I’m afraid I owe you an apology,” Santa said. “I believe what Zsa Zsa said in her note to me is true and I am sorry that I ever allowed myself to think that you could have been capable of hurting a child, even a child that has grown up. Raymond Hall was, for the most part, a despicable boy and while it pained me to let you deliver coal to him, I only agreed because I believed it would help him learn. I think it did, in its way. Raymond grew up, became a father. He loved his children. That was his goodness.”

“Santa, what would you say if I told you that when I delivered coal to the kids, and even when I started roughing up those bad parents, that I enjoyed it a little bit?”

The twinkle never left Santa’s eye. “I would say you enjoyed it because you knew you were giving them a very special gift—the ability to learn and change. I believe that’s why you enjoyed it, Gumdrop. It wasn’t really the wielding of justice. That’s just what you thought. Deep down, I don’t think you enjoyed the violence; I think you took pleasure in sharing a lesson. Teaching someone how to learn from their mistakes—that’s your gift, my boy.”

I didn’t think Santa was completely right. Part of me liked knowing the kids were disappointed Christmas morning, that I was able to get in their face with the lesson. When they sobbed and promised to do better next year, I scoffed. I thought telling Santa that might make me feel better, but I was sure it would make him feel worse and I just couldn’t face letting anyone else down right then.

“Come along now, my boy,” Santa said. “Let’s give the Misfits’ confession to that lady friend of yours to write in the paper and get ready. It’s almost time for the Loading of the Sleigh Parade!”

CHAPTER 26

A-Wassailing

THE MARSHMALLOW WORLD GAZETTE

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Gossip with Butternut Snitch

Is it just me or when you were reading the Siren of Scoop’s riveting article about how a certain outlaw elf was really a hero, you could almost feel the authoress blushing? I half expected to see “Mrs. G. C.” written in the margins. I wonder if wedding bells will join the silver at the Loading of the Sleigh Parade and our hero will slip a cool breeze of ice on the reporter’s nonwriting hand? I wonder if I’ll cry! Stay tuned!

Dingleberry had read Butternut Snitch’s gossip because he was staring at me like I had three heads. We were sitting in the Blue Christmas having a cup of cheer, trying to relax after all my adventures, but the notion that I might settle down with Rosebud baffled sweet, simple Dingleberry. Dingleberry was really the only other elf I had ever let get close to me, so I guess he couldn’t figure me for getting hitched. I don’t know where Butternut got her information, but I imagine Rosebud fed it to her to needle me. She had forgiven me for thinking she was in cahoots with Cane, but wasn’t through making me pay for it. I figured getting my name in the gossip column was just another trick. Mind you, I wasn’t opposed to the idea of Rosebud being my better half, but I hadn’t really had time to think about it. I was thinking about it now and I suppose Dingleberry could tell. “Ding, you stare at me much longer, you’re going to hurt your eyes,” I told him. “The past few days roughed me up a bit, and I haven’t gotten all my beauty sleep yet.”

“I just can’t believe it,” Dingleberry said.

“Believe what?”

“That you would get married