Max and Chelsea stepped out into the snow-dusted streets once again, their breath forming small clouds in the chilly air. Determined to keep trying with Jeremy, they followed the faint sounds of children laughing and playing. As they turned a corner into a quiet neighborhood park, the cheerful scene before them was quickly overshadowed by a familiar, troublesome figure.

Jeremy was stomping through the park, knocking over snowmen that young children had painstakingly built. His laughter rang out, sharp and mocking, as a little girl in a pink scarf burst into tears over her crumbled snowman.

“Too bad, huh?” Jeremy sneered, kicking the remains of the snowman into the street. “Maybe next time you’ll build one that doesn’t look so lame.”

“Hey! That’s not nice!” Max shouted, marching toward him.

Jeremy turned, his smirk widening when he saw who it was. “Oh, look who it is! The goody-two-shoes brigade. What are you gonna do? Give me a lecture?”

Chelsea knelt down to help the little girl gather the pieces of her snowman, speaking softly to comfort her. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll help you build it again.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Jeremy mocked. “Saving the day one snowman at a time. You two really need a hobby.”

Max’s hands clenched into fists, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Why are you doing this, Jeremy? What do you get out of ruining something that made someone happy?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “What do I get? I get to have fun. You should try it sometime instead of running around trying to ‘fix’ people. It’s pathetic.”

Max stepped closer, his voice firm. “Hurting other people isn’t fun, Jeremy. It’s mean. And deep down, I don’t think you’re actually having fun.”

Jeremy’s smirk faltered for a split second, but he quickly masked it with a laugh. “Wow, you’re really trying, aren’t you? Save your breath, hero. I’m not some sad little charity case you can ‘help.’”

Before Max could respond, a snowball flew through the air, narrowly missing Jeremy’s head. A group of older kids, clearly fed up with his antics, had taken matters into their own hands.

“Hey, leave us alone, you jerk!” one of them shouted, packing another snowball.

Jeremy’s face darkened. “You want to play?” he snapped, grabbing a handful of snow and hurling it back with surprising force.

The park erupted into chaos as a full-blown snowball fight broke out. Jeremy seemed to thrive on the disorder, laughing and shouting insults as he dodged and retaliated with precision. Max and Chelsea exchanged a look, unsure how to intervene.

“This is getting out of hand,” Chelsea said, brushing snow off her coat.

“We can’t stop him now,” Max replied. “But maybe we can show him there’s a better way.”

As the fight escalated, Jeremy took things a step further. He grabbed a stick and began swinging it at the snow forts the other kids had built, breaking them apart with ruthless efficiency. The other children shouted and jeered, but no one dared get too close.

“Jeremy, stop!” Chelsea called, running toward him.

He turned to her, his face red with exertion and anger. “Why? So you can lecture me some more? You don’t get it. None of you do. Everyone in this stupid town thinks I’m the bad guy, so why not act the part?”

Chelsea’s heart ached at his words, but before she could respond, one of the other kids muttered something under their breath—something mean, though not loud enough for Max and Chelsea to hear. Jeremy’s expression hardened, and he stormed off without another word, leaving a trail of broken snow forts and scattered snowballs behind him.

Max sighed, watching him go. “He’s so angry. It’s like he doesn’t know how to feel anything else.”

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Chelsea said quietly. “But we have to keep trying. No one else is going to.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon helping the younger kids rebuild their snowmen and forts, doing their best to make up for Jeremy’s destruction. Despite their efforts, the tension from the encounter lingered.

As the sun began to set, Max and Chelsea walked back toward the time machine, hidden to look like a Christmas Tree, both lost in thought. They knew Santa had warned them that this mission would be hard, but seeing the depth of Jeremy’s anger and hurt made the challenge feel even more daunting.

“We’ll talk to Santa again tonight,” Max said. “Maybe he’ll have some advice.”

Chelsea nodded, her resolve unwavering. “Jeremy thinks no one cares about him. We just have to prove him wrong.”