She could play computer games all day

and she had a dog

we could walk around the block

and there was always soda in her fridge

so when she said Santa isn’t real

I didn’t stop coming to her house

though her sister pulled my hair

and threw rice and blamed me

for breaking the good cups

I didn’t tell my parents

until 5 Christmases after

when I compared Mom’s handwriting

to Santa’s and it’s not like I was

devastated or mad or traumatized

just sour like almost-ripe cherries

because Samantha told on me

called me butterfingers to her mom

when I didn’t even break the good cups.

Her sister did.