Biff Meets A Cousin

One day, an older boy wandered into Santa's room.

I was sitting face to face with Santa, when I heard the door open.

"Wow" said a voice. I turned and looked.

The boy wore overalls, like a very young workman. Thick glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and white socks peeked out above his old, dirty sneakers.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Paul," he said. "My name is Paul. You must be Biff."

"What are you doing in my room, Paul?"

"Your stepmom told me I'd find you up here." He pointed at himself with his thumb, "I'm your cousin."

At this I stood up. I went over and shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you," I said. I kept my voice calm, just like Daddy would have, and hoped he didn't notice the slight quiver in my voice.

"This is, like, the coolest place I've ever been. Is all this stuff yours? Where'd you get the Santa? Can you play with this stuff?" Paul took a breath.

"Yes," I said, "Everything in this room belongs to me."

"Wow," Paul repeated. "It's sure great to be rich."

"Yes, it sure is." I could not help bouncing up and down on my toes. "It sure is."