Date: December 24, 1987.
Location: Givens' Salvage Yard.
Weather: Freezing.
Football season was over. The cheering had stopped. The trophy was sitting in a glass case at the school.
But the grind didn't stop.
"You're crazy, kid," Mr. Givens said, exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke into the frigid air. "It's Christmas Eve. Go home. Watch Rudolph."
I was knee-deep in a pile of rusted alternators, wearing thick work gloves. My breath misted in front of me.
"Double time?" I asked, looking up.
Givens rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Holiday pay. You're bleeding me dry, Cooper."
I grinned and went back to work.
Most kids my age were at home shaking presents or eating cookies. I was stripping copper wire out of a wrecked 1974 Ford F-150.
Why?
Because in my old life, I was a terrible brother. I borrowed money I never paid back. I forgot birthdays. I showed up to Christmas dinner drunk or not at all.
This time, I had a stash.
[Wallet Inventory]
* Base Savings: $40.00.
* Championship Bonus (from Meemaw): $20.00.
* Holiday Pay (Today): $15.00.
* Total: $75.00.
Seventy-five dollars. In 1987, that was a fortune for a twelve-year-old. It was enough to buy a Nintendo game, a new skateboard, or a pair of Jordans.
But I wasn't buying any of that.
***
The Logistics of Santa
Later that night, the Cooper house was buzzing.
Mary was frantically baking cookies, looking like she was defusing a bomb. George Sr. was untangling a ball of Christmas lights that looked like a rat king.
And Sheldon was at the kitchen table with a calculator and a map of the world.
"It is statistically impossible," Sheldon announced.
"What is, baby?" Mary asked, dumping flour into a bowl.
"Santa," Sheldon said. "To visit 800 million households in one night, assuming a travel velocity of 650 miles per second, the centrifugal force would liquefy the reindeer. Rudolph would not glow; he would explode."
"Sheldon, stop exploding the reindeer," George Sr. grunted from the floor.
"I am simply stating the thermodynamics!"
Missy was sitting on the couch, looking at the empty space under the tree.
"I asked Santa for a Cabbage Patch Kid," she whispered to me. "But Mom says Santa is on a budget this year."
I looked at Mary. She looked tired. The Championship win was great, but a teacher's salary and a coach's salary with three kids didn't leave much room for luxuries.
"Maybe Santa picked up an extra shift," I whispered back to Missy.
Sheldon looked up. "Santa does not have 'shifts.' He is a singular entity operating a non-unionized labor force of elves. It is ethically dubious."
I walked over and ruffled Sheldon's hair. "Go to sleep, Shelly. If you're awake, the thermodynamics don't work."
Sheldon narrowed his eyes. "That... is not how physics works. But I shall comply to maximize the probability of gifts."
***
The Ghost of Christmas Present
Christmas Morning. 6:00 AM.
The sun wasn't even up yet when Missy jumped on my stomach.
"He came! He came!"
I groaned, rolling over. My ribs still ached from the Championship game, but the bruise was fading.
We all shuffled into the living room. Mary had her robe on, holding a cup of coffee. George Sr. was scratching his belly.
There were the usual presents. Socks for George. A sweater for Mary. A science kit for Sheldon. A generic doll for Missy.
They were nice. Reasonable.
"Okay," George Sr. said, rubbing his hands. "Let's get breakfast going."
"Wait," I said.
I reached behind the couch. I pulled out four wrapped boxes.
The room went quiet.
"Georgie?" Mary asked. "What's this?"
"I've been working at the junkyard," I said, handing them out. "Mr. Givens pays pretty good."
I handed the first one to **Sheldon**.
He shook it. "It is heavy."
He tore the paper.
It was a **Rock Tumbler**. Not a toy one—a professional-grade one I had refurbished from a motor I found at the yard and a heavy-duty canister.
"It's for your specimens," I said. "So you can polish the gravel you find."
Sheldon's eyes went wide. He touched the metal barrel. "It has a variable speed motor? This is superior to the commercial models! I can erode sedimentary rocks at 400 RPM!"
He hugged the machine. "Thank you, Georgie."
Next was **Missy**.
She opened her box. Inside was a **Rawlings Baseball Glove**. Genuine leather. It smelled like the sporting goods store.
"It's not a doll," I said. "I saw you throwing rocks at the stop sign the other day. You got an arm, Miss. Figured you should use it."
Missy put her hand in the glove. It was stiff, but it fit. She punched the pocket. She looked at me, her eyes shining.
"I'm gonna be a pitcher," she declared.
"I know," I smiled.
Next, **George Sr.**
He opened a small envelope. Inside were two tickets.
**Texas Longhorns vs. Texas A&M. 50-yard line.**
George Sr. choked on his coffee. "Georgie... these... how did you afford these?"
"I know a guy," I said. (Meemaw had helped me scalp them for cheap because of the rain forecast). "We're going in January."
George Sr. looked at the tickets, then at me. He didn't say anything, but his chin wobbled slightly. He just nodded, tucking them carefully into his pajama pocket.
Finally, **Mary**.
She looked terrified. "Georgie, you spent too much. You shouldn't have."
"Open it, Mom."
She unwrapped a small box. Inside was a silver locket. It wasn't expensive jewelry, but inside, I had put a tiny photo of the three of us kids—Sheldon, Missy, and me—from the Championship game. We were all smiling.
"So you can keep an eye on us," I said. "Even when we're driving you crazy."
Mary burst into tears. She grabbed me and squeezed the air out of my lungs.
"Oh, baby," she sobbed. "My sweet boy."
***
The Balance
Later that afternoon, the house was quiet.
Sheldon was in the garage, the rock tumbler whirring loudly.
Missy was in the backyard, throwing a tennis ball against the wall with her new glove.
George Sr. was in his chair, staring at the tickets and smiling.
I sat on the front porch steps, eating a leftover cookie.
[Wallet Status]
* Current Balance: $0.45.
I was broke. I had spent every cent of my "Secret Stash."
In my old life, I would have been furious. I would have felt cheated. I worked in the freezing cold for weeks, and I didn't have a single toy to show for it.
But then I heard Mary humming in the kitchen. I heard Missy laughing in the yard.
The System pinged.
[Quest Complete: The Provider]
* Reward: Family Stability (Max).
* Hidden Stat Unlocked: "Voice of Reason." (Your opinion now carries adult weight with George and Mary).
* XP: +1000.
I smiled, taking a bite of the cookie.
I didn't need money. I was twelve years old, I was the District Champion, and for the first time in two lifetimes, the Cooper family was happy.
"Worth it," I whispered.