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Why do all of the rotten things happen to me? I thought that it was the other way around. 'Do good and good things will come to you,' yeah, Bull. I hold the door for someone; the next person slams it in my face. I give someone lunch money, I don't here from them afterwards. Is it even so much to ask for a damn thank you every once in a while?! I walk on eggshells and what do I get for it? Someone walking on me and pushing me down. Its times like this I wonder why I even bother. Sure, I get that small feeling that I did something good. But it really doesn't count for much if anyone doesn't realize it. If someone were to simply repay the favor, I wouldn't ask for anything for Christmas.

Why do I speak badly about Christmas? Simple, I hate the damn holiday. Why? It doesn't matter. It's a seasonal thing that makes people give crappy gifts to others simply hoping for something better in return. The whole thing is also a simple way to make little kids behave all year, and regardless of their behavior they get that perfect gift on that magical day of December.

Well, back to my story. Well, I'm sitting here in a science lab with a mop and pail, having my eyes burned out of my sockets from the cleaner in the water. Oh, and did I mention it's Christmas Eve? So naturally I'm already in a bad mood. I'm still here cleaning up at 3:30 pm because I helped someone. See, the kid that sits next to me was having a hard time with the lab equipment, so I asked if he wanted any help. He said yes, and I handled the acid and was bringing it to his table. Then Joey, the idiot ran into me and made me drop the sulfuric acid on the linoleum. Well, no one took responsibility for it, so naturally I did. And Joey didn't even get so much as a slap on the wrist.

"Well Corey, I hope you learned your lesson," said Mr. Sinclair.

"Yes sir," I replied, silently cursing under my breath.

"Joey could have been severely burned, and that glass could have-"

"But sir, it wasn't my fault! Joey was the one who ran into me!"

"Don't try to pin this on someone else. Now, are you nearly done?"

"Yes sir, I just need to clean this spot up."

"Good. For a 15 year old, I never thought that you could be so clumsy."

I hate that word; I am not clumsy. "Guilty as charged."

"Well, you seem to have done a good job, you can go."

"See you after the break sir."

"Merry Christmas Corey." I hate that sentence even more. "Do you have a ride home?"

"Yeah, but it left with all of the other busses," I said with a bit of sarcasm. "Don't worry, I'll 'walk.'"

I left the science lab, making sure to slam the door behind me. I left the warmth of the school and walked out into the cold winter world. It was not my idea to move to the Yukon. It was, in a way, my parent's idea. I live in northern Canada now with my aunt and uncle, and I have never been so cold in my life. No living thing can be up here, or so I thought. Turns out there are people who even live as far north as Iqaluit in Nunavut, and they get maybe 3 weeks of summer weather. We get 2 months. There is one good thing about the Yukon though; you can snowboard just about anywhere. And people are nice enough to not complain if you hitch a ride on the tailgate while they drive.

I unlocked my snowboard, clipped it to my boot, and made my way down the slope. I guess I am kind of lucky to have a school on a hill. I got down the hill, and hitched a ride on the back of some guys Chevy. Despite the danger of oncoming vehicles and sharp turns, you can't do this in the south, anywhere there is snow there the roads are plowed, and concrete is a killer on boards. Apparently the driver wasn't going where I was, he made an unexpected turn and I went flying and tumbling down a hill. The emergency released on my board and my backpack flew off. Eventually my face hit untouched snow. I just lay there for a moment, thinking about what had happened with my face in the snow. Even though I had spent most of my life in the warmer parts of Alberta, the cold of the north really didn't faze me. In fact, I like the cold more than the warm. So, I guess that is one thing good that comes with Christmas, snow and cold.

Well, I was done thinking, so I lifted my head out of the snow. As I pulled myself up, I found myself face-to-face with an arctic wolf! Okay, in Alberta we had the chance of running into a cougar in the woods if we weren't careful, but I had never even come close to an arctic wolf. And they were supposed to live a bit more north than here. The trick with most animals is not to make eye contact I heard, but it was a little late for that, the only hope I had was to keep eye contact and not make any sudden movements. As I slowly lifted myself up, I put my hand up slowly and started speaking to it, kind of like Steve Irwin.

"Look, I'm not looking for a fight, I'm just passing through," I said to the wolf, as if it could understand me.

It didn't bare its teeth or anything; it seemed really calm. I noticed how majestic its white fur coat looked, not a single stain. If not for the fact it was right in front of me, I would have never noticed it was there. It turned its head and ran into the woods behind me. It was so close I could feel it bump into me as it ran past me. I had never been so close to being a lunch, and yet it didn't appear to want to harm me. I climbed the hill and found my board and bag. Neither of them was damaged. I looked back, and well, you know how you should never look back on memories? Well, I made that mistake. See, there is a reason I hate Christmas more than anything else.

It was five years ago, on Christmas Eve. Me, mom and dad were on our way back from our last minute shopping. Back then we always came here for Christmas with my relatives. Anyway, my dad was driving, and we saw this idiot heading towards us, swerving between his lane and our lane. My dad made the wrong turn and he hit us, head on, truck vs. a car, both at 80km/h. I made it out with a fractured rib and some whiplash thanks to my being in the backseat. My parents: just another statistic to the investigators. Just another case of a drunken truck driver to add to the list, to me it wasn't another statistic. It was my god damned parents. The next day while I was in the hospital, our winter house there caught fire. It wasn't completely burnt, but we were told we couldn't live in it because it was unstable. The only reason it was left up was it was considered a historical house. Yeah, merry friggin Christmas.

Well, that's exactly what I found myself looking at. No cars can see it; it was on an old road that eventually fell off the map because there was no legal ownership of the property. It was still standing after 5 years, hard to believe it didn't suffer any vandalism. There were black parts where the fire had started inside, but the walls were still there and so was the roof. It was already getting dark; the days get a lot shorter up north. I ran up the hill, clipped my boot into my board, and hitched a ride on the back of a pickup. By the time I reached the house it was pitched black. I set the board up against the house and made my way through the door.

"Where have you been?!" bellowed my aunt.

"I took a small detour and I had to stay after school," I replied.

"Don't lie to your aunt boy," said my uncle.

"Hey," piped up a small voice, "he did have to stay after school, I heard it from a friend he had to clean up for Mr. Si-"

"Shut up!" said my aunt as her hand hit my brother. Tony's blue eyes looked so hurt and his brown hair was all messed up. I stomped up to my aunt and my blue eyes gave her a stare so immense she wouldn't forget it. She was about to slap me as well but I caught her hand.

"Don't you dare touch my brother again you wrench!"

I felt pain in the back of my knees and heard the crack of my uncle's leather belt. "Watch your mouth!"

My knees hit the floor, and that was that.

"Now," my uncle continued, "This house needs milk and bread, so go get some, boy."

"And go to bed Tony," said my aunt with a bit of distain in her voice.

I really didn't know how he expected me to go without a license or a car, but I wasn't going to argue with him. Plus I didn't want to spend another second in that god-awful house. I grabbed my board and hitched a ride on an oncoming SUV. One of the things I do when I tailgate is I think. I had thought of running off, running away, but there was always something that kept me. Like, what about meeting people from school? They would probably tell my aunt where I was. Or what if when I moved there would be an amber alert on me? But the biggest thing that kept me was Tony. See, my brother is only seven; he was only 2 when mom and dad died, so he didn't remember them, I could only tell them stories, but I never mentioned the house.

As I rode the SUV, I was beginning to feel the pain in my legs from the belt get worse. Eventually I couldn't take it; I let go and tumbled down the hill. Maybe Mr. Sinclair was right. Maybe I am clumsy. I fell down the hill once again, and once again I lost my board. And where did I land? Right in front of my old house. Okay, twice in one day is more than a coincidence. As much as my legs still hurt both from the fall and from the belt, I felt like I was here for a reason. And for all I care, my uncle can die of starvation with my aunt; I have a stash under a floorboard under my bed for Tony and me. I limped my way towards the house. When I reached the burnt door, through a hole I could see a faint glow, I opened the door and went in.

It felt so weird, not being in a place then suddenly coming into it years later. I couldn't let my guard down, there still might be some damaged places, and it would only take one step and I would be a goner. Once I got to the living room where I thought there was the glow, I found it pitched black, no light from the windows because it was still too early for the moonlight to shine in this part of the house. I used a lighter I had stolen from my uncle to light up the room. I found a candle in the china cabinet that wasn't completely melted and lit it for better light. Well, the tree was burnt, and so were all of the presents under it, Ironic. My foot brushed by a present that was labeled, "To: Cory From: Mom and Dad." I opened the half burnt present to find a note.

Suddenly I felt the pain in the back of my legs like never before. I dropped the note and rolled onto my side. My legs had become misshapen and my feet began to hurt just as much. I took off my boots to find my feet were changing too; they were growing claws and thick leathery pads on the bottom of them. My hands were also changing; growing the same pads and claws, but hey stayed the same shape. I could feel fur pushing up through my skin and covering every inch of my body, covering it in a thick white coat of fur. My spine jerked as a tail grew out from my backside. My face lengthened into a muzzle and the ears on the side of my head traveled up to the top of my head. I managed to fight off unconsciousness until the ordeal was over.

On a scale of one to ten on how much the transformation hurt, a fifteen! That was more painful than the time I broke my collarbone during ice hockey. I let myself fall and lie on my back, only to hear a loud rip as my new tail tore though my pants. Ok, quick recap; from what I could feel, I had changed big time. My feet were paws, I had white fur all over my body, I have a head shaped like an animal, a wolf I guess, and I have a hole in my pants... well, I guess they are more shorts now. I Tried to stand up, and surprisingly I could with ease. So I guess it's not a total loss, I can still snowboard. I walked over to where the note lay.

I picked it up, but it crumbled to ash except for a small piece that read, "... te the transformation. This is our Christmas present to you; use it wisely. We love you very much and hope that you have a merry Christmas and many more to come. Love, Mom and Dad."

_ _

_ _ I stood there for a moment in astonishment. This was a Christmas present, to me. I haven't gotten one of these in five years, and to believe that it was something I could have for a very long time. All this time I had hated them for leaving when I knew that it wasn't their fault. Christmas was a thing that we all did as a tradition, and I have ignored that tradition for too long.

I just remember at that moment, that Tony wasn't here with me. I ran out the door and forgot my boots. But I didn't feel cold at all, not on my paws, hands, face or tail. I guess that fur would come in come in handy after all. I couldn't risk getting seen, so I started towards my aunt's house on foot. I got there really fast; it only took a few minutes. I went inside the house, making sure not to wake anyone. The first room I got to was my room. I gathered up my stash and a few things in a backpack and made my way to Tony's room.

On my way there I heard a voice in one of the bedrooms yell, "Boy! Do you got that bread we want?" The words were slurred, meaning my uncle was yelling in his sleep.

Just in case he wasn't, I yelled back quietly, "Yes sir."

The response was, "Good boy..." followed by snoring. I was safe.

I found Tony sleeping in his bed; this was good. I picked him up and carried him in both arms, and he felt lighter, so I must have gotten stronger. Good thing he sleeps like a rock. I remembered just as I was heading out the door that he might not be as warm as I was, so I got a sleeping bag from the closet and draped it over him. My own body heat should keep him warm.

It was a lot slower getting back to the house, what with the supplies and my brother weighing me down. Once there, I carefully set him down in one of the beds that wasn't burnt or crumbling. I sat on the floor, just as the moonlight came through the window. I was surprised by what I had just done. I had turned into a half wolf, kidnapped my brother, and had no real plan for the future. Well, I would make one, tomorrow maybe, I didn't know. It was just about midnight, and as I left to get something for me to sleep on, I turned around and as my brother Slept, I said in a quiet voice, "Merry Christmas."