Max and Chelsea stepped out of the time machine and back into the warm glow of Santa’s workshop. The bustling energy of the elves greeted them immediately, with tiny figures darting to and fro, carrying armloads of toys and tinkering with new creations. The comforting scent of peppermint and cookies filled the air, but neither Max nor Chelsea felt much comfort as they replayed the chaos of the day in their minds.

Santa noticed their arrival from across the room and walked over with his usual hearty smile, though it quickly faded when he saw their downcast expressions. Clara, standing nearby and rolling dough for her next batch of gingerbread cookies, also looked up, her brow furrowing with concern.

“Welcome back, my friends,” Santa said gently. “How did it go?”

Chelsea hesitated, but Max spoke first. “Not great. Jeremy… he’s not just angry. He’s mean. He hurt those kids on purpose. He’s not just pushing us away; he’s pushing everyone away.”

Chelsea nodded. “And he acts like he doesn’t care, but… I think he does. He’s just so mad at the world that he’d rather ruin things than let anyone get close to him.”

Santa sighed deeply, stroking his beard as he listened. “Yes, anger like Jeremy’s often hides something deeper: pain, loneliness, fear. It’s not easy to break through those walls.”

“And it’s not just walls,” Max added. “He’s actively making things worse. Today, he destroyed snowmen, broke forts, and even swung a stick at kids. They were so upset, but… he just laughed.”

“And now everyone thinks he’s just a bully,” Chelsea said softly. “But I think he’s hurting inside. He’s so hard to reach, though. I don’t know how we’re supposed to help him.”

Clara set down her rolling pin and approached them, her warm eyes scanning their faces. She gasped softly when she noticed a small cut on Chelsea’s cheek, just below her eye.

“Oh, my dear,” she said, kneeling slightly to examine it more closely. “You’re hurt. What happened?”

Chelsea reached up and touched her cheek, as if only now remembering the stinging pain. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just a snowball that hit me. I think there was a rock in it.”

Clara’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she gently guided Chelsea to sit on a nearby stool. “Nothing, indeed. Let me clean this up before it gets worse.” She retrieved a small tin of salve from a nearby shelf, her movements efficient but filled with care.

As Clara dabbed the salve onto Chelsea’s cut, Max continued to speak with Santa. “Is there anything else we can do to get through to him? He won’t even give us a chance. It’s like he’s determined to keep everyone away.”

Santa nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful. “Jeremy’s behavior stems from something deeper, something he may not even fully understand himself. To help him, we need to address the root of his pain. But first, we need to find out what that pain is.”

“But how?” Chelsea asked, her voice muffled as Clara gently pressed a bandage to her cheek. “He won’t talk to us about anything real. He just mocks us and pushes us away.”

Clara stepped back, satisfied with her work, and exchanged a glance with Santa. “Maybe we need to show him kindness in a way he can’t ignore,” she suggested. “Something that cuts through the noise of his anger.”

“Exactly,” Santa agreed, his face lighting up with an idea. “We need to create a moment where Jeremy feels something he hasn’t felt in a long time: safety. If he feels safe, even for a moment, he might begin to let his guard down.”

“How do we do that?” Max asked, his brow furrowed.

Santa’s smile returned, warm and encouraging. “Jeremy needs to see that someone cares for him without expecting anything in return. Tomorrow, you’ll bring him something special—not to lecture him, not to convince him of anything, but just to let him know you’re there.”

Chelsea tilted her head. “Like a gift?”

“Exactly,” Santa said. “But not just any gift. It has to be something meaningful, something that shows you’ve been paying attention to him.”
Max and Chelsea exchanged a look, both thinking hard. Clara chimed in, her voice gentle. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be big. Sometimes the smallest gestures make the biggest impact.”

“Like fixing something he’s broken?” Chelsea suggested.

Santa’s eyes twinkled. “Now you’re thinking. Sleep on it, and we’ll brainstorm more tomorrow morning. But for now, remember this: Jeremy’s heart may seem locked away, but every act of kindness is a key. It may take many tries, but one day, you’ll find the one that fits.”

Clara smiled and patted Chelsea’s shoulder. “And don’t forget to take care of yourselves, too. You’re doing good work, even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

Max and Chelsea nodded, their spirits a little lighter as they absorbed Santa and Clara’s words. There was still so much to do, but for the first time that day, they felt a glimmer of hope.