“Grand Central Station, New York City, next stop!” the conductor yelled late in the afternoon.
Shana’s ears perked up, and she poked her head out the train. “Brr, it’s cold.”
“Woah!” The tall skyscrapers soared above her, taller than her house back home, taller than the boats at the port. She felt tiny and suddenly missed home.
“Should I turn back?” But the rowhouses sparkled with twinkling lights, and she smelled the faint hint of hazelnuts. Kids donned Santa hats and skipped along the boulevard, while couples wearing festive Christmas sweaters walked arm in arm.
“I love Christmas.” Shana spun around as her spirits rose. “And the Christmas squirrels are waiting for me. So, here we come, Elisa!” She followed her nose along the sidewalk and looked into windows for hazelnut cupcakes. “Mmmm…” she inhaled deeply.
They wandered under a decorated Christmas arch made of fragrant firs and pinecones and into an enormous, open square. The snow sparkled like the lights decorating the buildings lining the square. Shana squealed, taking in the sheer beauty.
“Wow! Elisa, look at the miniature houses decorated with holiday colors and the cheerful Christmas trees. This must be Christmas!”
Then, she noticed them. They sat on every ledge of every building, on every bough of every Christmas tree, and on every rooftop of every house—birds—everywhere, white birds, grey birds, and black birds. She stared at them, and they stared back.
“Umm, Elisa, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Shana froze. “There must be hundreds, and they’re all wearing Santa suits.”
Shana took a deep breath.
“Umm, hi, hi, hi.” She feigned a chuckle. “Excuse me, are you all Christmas pigeons by chance?”
“Depends who’s asking,” responded a bird with a thick New York City accent.
“Oh, well, hi, hi, I’m Shana. I’m, uh, just a Christmas squirrel, and this is Elisa, my ducky friend. We, um, well, we’re looking for the Christmas squirrels. Any chance you’ve seen them around?”
“Christmas squirrels?” bellowed the biggest bird, looking around at the others, “you’re looking for Christmas squirrels?” The other birds burst into a chorus of laughter.
Shana’s ears sank along with her confidence.
“Um, well, yeah,” she squeaked. Their laughter continued.
“That’s ridiculous! What in the world are you thinking?” the bird boomed above her. “There’s no such thing as a Christmas squirrel.”
“Yeah, boss, there are no Christmas squirrels!” another sneered, his feathers puffed out in mockery. “Where’d you get that idea?”
Shana hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper, “I … I saw it on TV.”
“On TV?” the boss squawked. “You believe everything you see on TV, kid?”
Laughter erupted and the birds flapped their wings with amusement.
“No Christmas squirrels here,” the boss declared. “This is New York City—the Big Apple! We’re the famous Christmas pigeons!”
Shana’s ears drooped, and her tail tucked between her legs. Desperation crept into her voice. “So … what about the hazelnut cupcakes?”
“Cupcakes? Kid, you’ve been duped.” Laughter swelled again. One pigeon wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.
Shana’s dream crumbled under their jeers. She shuffled under the Christmas arch with Elisa, her steadfast companion. They wandered aimlessly through the city, tears welling in Shana’s eyes.
“Elisa, what are we going to do? I wish you were real. You’d know what to do.”
“Squeak!”
“Psst! Hey, over here!” a voice hissed from a dark alley. Shana turned away, her heart too heavy to care, but the voice persisted.
“Psst! Hey, don’t just walk by.”
Shana glanced up and saw a sleek white cat emerge from the shadows, her green eyes glinting like Christmas lights.
“Don’t let those pigeons get to you.” The cat licked her paw. “They’re just a bunch of punks who think they own Christmas.”
Shana sniffled. “But they said Christmas squirrels don’t exist. And, now, what are we going to do? How are we going to get home?” Shana bawled.
“Home? Listen, kid, you’re not going home. Come on, you’ve got fire in you. Don’t let it go out. Besides, I’ve heard whispers, whispers of a place called Chi-town, where there’s a gathering of all kinds of Christmas animals.”
“Chi-town? Really?” Shana’s ears perked up. The cat purred.
“And I know just the crew to get you there.” She flicked her tail, beckoning Shana to follow.
Shana followed the cat down the alley, unsure what hid in the shadows. Around the corner, in a bright courtyard, a group of enormous red-tailed hawks perched on crates and windowsills. Their feathers gleamed in the setting sun, and their claws clutched reins adorned with bells.
“Hey, y’all,” the cat called out. “Think you can give my friends a lift to Chicago?”
The largest hawk turned. His piercing eyes scanned Sahana and Elisa before softening at the sight of the weary travelers. “Sure thing, Beatrice! We’ve got a delivery for the big guy up that way anyway.”
“Really? You’ll take us?” Shana’s jaw dropped.
“Absolutely, hop up onto my back! We’re happy to help. Christmas is about giving, after all!”
“You’ll need this.” Beatrice produced a tiny Santa suit and handed it to Shana.
“For me?”
“And one for your ducky friend, too.”
Shana beamed, tears of gratitude streaming down her face.
“Thank you. Thank you so much!”
Moments later, the nine hawks soared through the starlit sky. Shana looked down at the sparkling city and up at the endless night, her heart swelling with hope.
“Ho, Ho! Ho!” Shana cheered.