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"What are you writing?" Nketiah looked over at the paper Smith Rowe was currently drawing a snowman on.
Smith Rowe gave up trying to make white crayon marks appear on white paper, using a pen to outline the snowman's body. "Oh, I'm just writing my Santa letter for this year. Wanna write with me?"
Nketiah shook his head at his friend's naivete. While Smith Rowe and Saka, and Martinelli when he joined Arsenal, had diligently written their letters to Santa every year and delivered them in the mail, Nketiah hadn't written one since he was seven. He remembered how much he'd wanted to be gifted that year. He'd written a list of all the things he wanted, including a new World Cup poster, but then he'd overheard some older kids at school talking about how silly it was that their younger siblings still believed in Santa. He destroyed his letter as soon as he saw it and he never wrote again.
"It's not like he's going to reply, you know. There's no such thing as Santa Claus, and there never was."
Saka and Martinelli looked up from the bags they were sorting through. They'd been collecting their teammates' things that they no longer needed to donate to a local charity, and right now they were dividing their spoils into cardboard boxes.
"Not with you, Eddie. Last year Gabi and I wrote Santa a letter asking for a reindeer. And look, reindeer!" Saka held up his twin reindeer plushies, chuckling at how the tiny bells tied around the stuffed animals' necks jangled.
Nketiah was not amused. "Granit gave those to you, not Santa."
"That's why we named them Donner and Blitzen." Martinelli held up a Christmas sweater that had way too many pompoms to be safe. "We're not two years old, Eddie. We already know Santa doesn't exist, but the spirit of giving still exists. We exchange presents because of that Santa spirit."
Nketiah didn't know why, but the fact that Martinelli was actually saying something wise amused him to no end. He cracked up, leaning against a bed for support, and the others followed suit. Even Martinelli laughed, if only because his friends' laughter was contagious.
"God, man, that's got to be the cheesiest thing you ever said," Smith Rowe said when he finally caught his breath. "But it's still fun to write Santa letters anyway. Want to write one, Eddie?"
Nketiah shrugged, taking up a piece of paper and a sparkly, dark green gel pen. He stared at it before dropping the writing materials and crossing his arms. "I know you guys don't believe in Santa, but I don't think that Santa letters are my thing. My mind blanks when I think about writing a letter to somebody I know doesn't even exist."
"It's okay, I guess it's not for everyone." Smith Rowe signed off his own letter with a wax stamp that he'd found in a random box. "Want to hear mine, anyway?"
Martinelli nodded enthusiastically. "Let's hear it!"
Dear Santa,
I have been a very injured boy this year, so I haven't had time to do anything naughty like slide-tackling people. However, I'm helping my teammates sort out knick-knacks and other stuff to donate, so I think that counts as a good deed, don't you?
Below is a list of things I'd like for Christmas. You can check them off as you get them, so you don't lose track and forget something.
A trophy that was won by going through a tournament and not just playing one match
To finish the season above Manchester City
Justice for Aaron Ramsdale
More consistent refereeing
A body not made of glass (actually, why not do that for all our other teammates? Small Gabriel could use it)
A break for Mikel
A LONG break for Martin (mental, not physical, WE NEED HIM ON THE PITCH).
Warm regards,
Emile
Saka nodded in approval. "I can vouch for that stuff. Especially Martin. He needs something nice this year, like a good vacation or something."
"You're right. I pulled all my best cheer-up pranks on him and nothing happened!" Martinelli furrowed his brow as he flipped through a notebook titled 'Martinelli's Pranks'. "Maybe he needs to write a Santa letter asking for one."
"Unlikely. Martin's already trying to grow up too fast. He's only a few months older than me and yet he tries to act like everybody's older brother." Nketiah shook his head. "He needs to learn that he can't do everything by himself."
"Who else would do things? Aaron and David are feuding, Mikel's stressed out over his FA charges, and Granit's not here." Smith Rowe picked up a sweater, knit in a blue and white snowflake pattern, and smiled. "But Martin's doing really well! I'm just worried about him.”
"Same, and that's how we know we're good teammates to him." Nketiah glanced over at the twenty boxes of stuff lying in the corner. "Now, are we going to sort through these or not?"
Smith Rowe groaned loudly as he saw just how much there was to unpack. "Wish we could write a Santa letter to ask him for help to sort these donations."