“Awesome,” Charlie said. “Let’s see if the snowplow works.” He pushed the pedals, and sure enough, the blade went up and down.

“We’re working now,” said André, his face lit up with excitement. “Let’s plow that field down there.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “We can make a path to the manger.” He pointed across the smooth white churchyard at the manger scene, which tonight would all be lit up for Christmas Eve.

The yard sloped downward, and the Bobcat leaned like a crazy ride. At first it was really fun, like the coolest ride on a sled, but then it felt as though they were going a little too fast.

“Hey, slow down,” Charlie said.

“I can’t.” André struggled with the levers. “It’s not slowing down.”

“Then you better turn around, because we’re heading straight for—”

“Duck!”

The manger was suddenly right in front of them. The plow blade hooked itself on something and then smashed into the manger.

André’s hand flashed up, and he punched a red button overhead. The engine died.

“Holy moly,” said Charlie. “We smashed into the manger.” He looked at the statues strewn around the snowy yard. “We ran over baby Jesus.”

“Oh man, that was not cool,” André said. “What should we—”

“What’s going on here?” asked a gruff voice.

Charlie’s stomach felt as if it had turned into a giant ball of ice. A police cruiser was parked in the lot beside the churchyard. “It’s Chief McKnight,” he whispered to André.

“We’re sunk,” André whispered back.

“You boys climb down from that thing.” Chief McKnight looked really mad. “Is anybody hurt?”

Charlie eyed the crushed fake baby head down in the snow. He and André scrambled out. “We’re okay,” Charlie said. “Chief McKnight, we’re really sorry.”

“We didn’t mean to do it,” André said.

“You kids are in big trouble,” said Chief McKnight.

As if they didn’t already know.

“Honest, we were just gonna do some plowing, you know, to help out,” André said.

“It was an accident,” Charlie said, snatching off his hat.

Chief McKnight leaned down and glared at them. Then his eyebrows shot up. “Charlie? Charlie O’Donnell?”

Chief McKnight had known him ever since Charlie was born. The police chief was married to Jenny, the bakery owner, and they lived in an old-fashioned house on King Street, and when the chief wasn’t on duty, Charlie was allowed to call him Rourke.

But right now it was Chief McKnight, all the way. “Y-yes, sir,” Charlie replied in a shaking voice. “That’s me.”

“You stole a piece of equipment. You committed vandalism...on Christmas Eve,” said the chief. “Bad timing, guys. Really bad timing.”

“We’re sorry,” Charlie said.

“Do we have to go to jail?” André asked in a very quiet, completely horrified voice.