g remember the question: third grade At 2:30, the bell rang. The children in Miss Foley’s they outside, cold the for tion class lined up at the door. In prepara Most fs. ear-muf and coats and mittens and boots had bundled into had a of them clutched some memento of the day, for they had Christmas party. Miss Foley had presented red and green pencils to each boy and a girl. Linda had chosen a green one, which she carefully placed in paper bag with her other treasures. Its eraser settled in the red an icing of an angel-shaped cookie. Its unsharpened point poked apple. Linda crunched daintily on a gingerbread man. She had eaten none of the other treats, preferring to keep them for later. Then, the lighted tree which the class had decorated and Christmas carols and the odor of pine boughs and wet wool would no longer distract her. The girl in front of Linda in the line turned around. Sandra looked vaguely like a palomino: her blonde hair hung in a soft ponytail down her back, and her equine nose dominated her face. In a tone not exactly a whinny but more of a squeal, Sandra asked, “Hey, you don’t believe in Santa Claus, do you 2 gq nemember the simply there is.” Santa Claus . . . I know Her voice laughed, There isn’t a Santa f remember 4 remember YQ nemember the the the “I knew home. She rested for a moment in a red wagon at the side of her house. Her hands stuck to the freezing metal. Her breath stuck to her throat and seemed to tear it as each gasp escaped from her mouth in a cloudy puff. I know end innocence. of remember ran the joking with that.” beginning of sophistication. Christmas of Santa, Claus. — . . LINDA WATTS AMERICAN I walk under and And watch lemon disillusionment: Her note had asked, in large and sprawling handwriting, for a talk with her parents. Linda waited then, trying to appear unconcerned, until her sister and brothers had gone to bed. She waited in the armchair, ancient-green, which belonged to her father. The lights on the tree reflected blue and red and gold in the shiny ornaments beside them. The reflections, however, blurred as Linda blinked back tears. | Her mother and father finally came. They sat together on the leather couch across the living room from her, but Linda refused “AN yellow over the a yellow dead skies yellow grass bird that flies and through g all along you were Claus. doubt: Linda ran home, not scuffing her boots, not aware of anything but running. She didn’t feel the hard balls of ice thrown at her from the courthouse lawn by three teasing boys. She didn’t smell the hundreds of Douglas firs in a truck by Later’s Market. She didn’t see a snowman which the faltering sun could not melt. She to join them. She swallowed once, then bravely ventured, “Mommy and Daddy, is there a Santa Claus? Please tell me the truth.” She watched the two adults. They glanced at each other and barely smiled. Linda’s mind sobbed, “They’re trying to fool me! There is a Into the wind the yellowing sunset and cries past that dies and all along the line the last Of them will do. I hear many people sigh, “America.” — LAURENCE 41 HUSTON me.