Tracy Tam: Santa Command by Krystalyn Drown

said to Jared. “Let's go.” At the first sign of a lie, she'd figure out a way to ditch him.
    “Fine.” Jared walked to the door/mirror, but stopped right in front of it. It didn't have that yellow glow anymore.
    Jared touched it, and…nothing happened. It didn't shiver or swirl or look anything like it did before. It was just a mirror, a lot like the one in Tracy's bathroom.
    She watched Jared's reflection as he leaned in close and squinted, like he was trying to see through it to the other side. His face was round and scrunched up like a cartoon character. He tapped the mirror a couple more times, then he took a step back, crossed his arms across his chest, and frowned. “Huh.”
    Tracy stepped up beside the mirror, put her fingers under one of the side edges, and lifted. Maybe a real mirror had slid into place, covering the doorway. When she peered behind the mirror, all she saw was a blank wall. She even slid her hand behind the mirror to feel the wall, thinking it could be another illusion. It wasn't. The wall was as solid as the mirror. That left her with only one logical conclusion.
    She turned to Jared with her hands on her hips and a nasty look on her face. “What's going on here? This isn't the same room I went to sleep in. You must have carried me here while I was sleeping.” He was big enough.
    Jared put his hands on his hips in a perfect imitation of her and snapped right back. “I didn't do anything. I came through that mirror, same as you. Maybe it broke when you looked at it.”
    The insult made Tracy turn her back to him and huff. Clearly, this boy had no intention of helping her get home. “Fine. If you're going to be that way, I'll find my own way home.” She headed for the actual door, which was on the far side of the room, to the left of the fireplace.
    Jared laughed as she opened the door. “Good luck with that.”
    Tracy stepped through and gave him a snotty little wave.
    He crossed the room like he was going to stop her. “Just see if you can find your way without—” His words cut off when Tracy shut the door in his face.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
     
    Tracy
     
    Tracy stepped into a hallway that had no trace of the plain white walls and fluorescent lighting she had seen in the rest of Santa Command. It was dark and felt more like she was visiting someone's home. Candlelight from the wall sconces gave her enough light to see that the hallway seemed to go on forever. Every square inch of the walls was covered with framed photographs of children on Christmas morning: little girls with baby doll carriages, little boys dressed as cowboys, riding pretend ponies, wide eyed toddlers getting their first view of the presents Santa left, and much more. They were all black and white, some so old and faded, she could barely make out the details. But as she walked down the hall, the pictures grew more recent. She saw color photos of kids holding up big chunky video games like her parents played when they were little, then kids sorting through stacks of CDs, and most recently, kids absorbed in their iPhones and iPads.
    She ran her finger across some of the photos, recognizing many of the toys that she had owned when she was smaller. Her finger stopped on one picture in particular. Tracy's mouth dried out as she gaped at the picture of her and Pim taken on the night before Pim's accident. It was Christmas Eve. The two girls had their arms around each other, and they were wearing the matching footie pajamas they had been given—red for Tracy, blue for Pim.
    Tracy remembered the night vividly. They were both missing a couple of teeth, and the two of them sang All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth about a hundred times that day. After the accident, Tracy had visited Pim in the hospital and played that song for hours, over and over hoping her cousin would recognize it and talk, or blink, or do something. It never happened and when nighttime came, her parents made her go home. Tracy hadn't been able