Presenting Gary Christmas

By Katrin Zimmermann and Juan Pablo Cornejo Serrano

Thirteen-year-old Jendrik is annoyed - by his parents, his younger sister and the stupid, never-ending and irritating chores he has to do around the house. One day, while taking out the rubbish, he comes across another person who wants to make his life even more difficult. He finds a grandpa - not Jendrik's own - sitting in their shed, claiming to be Father Christmas. Great - that was the only thing missing in Jendrik's life!
But it's no good - if he wants to get rid of the strange old man, he'll have to help him …
A Christmas story to read to oneself or aloud to grumpy brothers, feisty sisters, and parents who should take out the rubbish themselves once in a while - it could just be worth it!
Charming, caring, and cheeky - presenting Gary Christmas!

• Language: English
• Publisher: tredition
• Release date: Oct 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9783746970455

Katrin Zimmermann

Katrin Zimmermann wurde 1981 in Hamburg geboren und wuchs zusammen mit ihrer älteren Schwester in einem Vier-Generationen-Haushalt in Schleswig-Holstein auf. In Lüneburg studierte sie Deutsch und Englisch für das Lehramt an Grund-, Haupt- und Realschulen. Nach dem Referendariat arbeitete sie an verschiedenen Haupt- und Realschulen. Zurzeit unterrichtet sie an einer Oberschule in Niedersachsen nahe der Elbe. Sie lebt mit ihrer Familie bei Lüneburg.

Book preview

‘Yeah, yeah, I'm doing it.’

Annoyed, Jendrik tugged straight his blue down jacket and slammed the door of the wardrobe shut. He pulled his red beanie over his brown hair, which looked scruffy even before putting on the woolly Christmas present from Grandma Christa. He stomped into the kitchen and, huffing, tore at the bin liner to lift the stupid and overfull sack out of the way-too-small bin.

‘For goodness sake, Jendrik. Why don’t you take the rubbish bag out of the bin before putting your boots on?’ His father shook his head in disbelief. ‘Look at the kitchen floor. Now your mother will have to mop it again.’

Joachim Oltmann yawned, scratched the thick hair on the back of his head and – as he did each morning on the weekend – disappeared with a mug of coffee and the newspaper into the living room.

Jendrik stepped outside into the cold and let the door slam shut behind him. He pulled the rubbish bag, which threatened to rip with every step, past the kitchen windows and laundry door to the back of the house. In disgust, he lifted the grey lid of the rubbish bin with the number ‘28’ on it and balanced the plastic bag, through which he could see rinds of cheese, tea bags, and scrunched up tissues, on top of all the other rubbish bags. He pushed the lid down, attempting at least to reduce the gap between it and the bin, which would not close completely. He hated touching the wet handle. It was gross when his fingertips came in contact with the liquid. Was that really just rainwater? Disgusting! It was probably fetid water. In summer, it was even worse. You never knew what was waiting in the grey pit of the bin. From furry mould to maggots of different colours and sizes – everything was possible. Why was he the one who always had to do the dirty chores? He was sick of it. As soon as his sister got through her first day of school, he would see to it that she did her part in the house. Just because she was a few years younger than him, she could wrap her parents around her little finger and get away with anything. And she liked using this abundance of free time to grate Jendrik’s already taut nerves. She left her stupid ponies and dolls lying all over the house, meaning you could be poked in the behind by a doll’s foot or horse’s hoof if you sat down to relax on the sofa with the console. All those Spotties, Brownies, and Black Beauties – he would have liked to throw them in the bin! They all looked the same anyway. He just had to wait until summer and the start of school – then he’d make some changes as the older brother in the Oltmann family.

A quiet bump snapped him out of his thoughts. Had that sound come from the shed? Jendrik looked over at the red wooden door. It was locked. He glanced at the window to the living room. His father was now reading an edition of ‘National Geographic’ about active volcanoes. It couldn’t have been his mother either, as she was up in the attic, from where she had threatened him with a football ban if the stinking bag of rubbish didn’t immediately disappear. And Clara? She was sitting in the bath with her herd of Schleich toy horses.

There it was again! That bumping noise. Probably just a cat … or probably not? How would a cat have got into the shed? They really only used the shed in summer. During winter, all the garden furniture and the lawn mower were stored in there. And an old refrigerator.

Cautiously, Jendrik approached the little window on the side of the shed, next to which the bicycles were stored under a roof. All was dark in the shed. He could hardly make anything out. He moved even closer and peered further inside. Bump! Again, the noise! But there was nothing to see. It was most certainly an animal that had trapped itself inside. Maybe a hedgehog wanting to hibernate for the winter. Or a confused owl searching for an escape. Well, he would help free the poor creature. Jendrik turned around, moved towards the door and – ready to assist – opened it and came face to face with an old man.

‘Whoops,’ said the man and ducked his head quickly between his shoulders. ‘I probably was a little too loud there. Good morning!’ He settled himself back into his deckchair slowly.

Jendrik stared wordlessly at the man in the green coat.

‘Could you close the door, please? There’s a draught.’ The man with the grey-white beard and blue eyes gave Jendrik a friendly smile.

‘What?’ Jendrik held his gaze on what he had expected to be an owl and wasn’t sure whether he should be afraid or annoyed.

‘The door, Jendrik. Please close the door so that it doesn’t get even colder in here.’

Without taking his eyes off the strange fellow, Jendrik closed the door. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘I’m Father Christmas. I know all children by name.’ The old man smiled and motioned to the garden chair next to him. ‘Take a seat. It’s your chair, after all.’

Jendrik took one step closer and stretched his arm