This story was inspired by a real-life event. Anyone who knows about it will recognize where I put that in. If you don't actually know about it, then oh well, because it doesn't affect the story at all. I just have to warn you that I wrote this in a moment of uninspiration when I was thinking about it and had time but wasn't particularly in a writing mood. So don't be too harsh. ;)

Merry Christmas everyone!

The mall Santa groaned mentally beneath his fake beard. He had taken this job because, being a jolly man himself, he'd wanted to spread the joy to children. Now he was wishing he hadn't. If one more kid burst into tears in his lap or threw up on his shoes…

Anyway, he was getting sick of the job already, and he'd only been at it for a couple of hours. He was amazed at the number of kids coming up to him that he was sure should've given up on believing in Santa a long time ago. He looked out at the ever-lengthening line and bit back another groan.

Several hours later he was just getting ready for the end of his shift. The next Santa was getting into his costume even as he finished up with a few more kids. He raised one gloved hand to rub his eyes, sure that this headache was not going to go away anytime soon. He was amazed at the selfishness of some of these children. Most of the ones who came up to ask him for presents listed off a dozen or more extremely expensive items. Seriously, what was that 6-year-old going to do with a cell phone anyway?

There was a sudden large amount of weight plopped down in his lap, causing his hand to fly away from his face. He looked at the kid who had sat on his leg, only to find that "kid" was probably not the best term for this boy. He looked to be about 15 years old, and a brief flash of recognition showed in the Santa's eyes.

"And what do you want for Christmas little –err… boy?"

The African American teen in his lap sighed dramatically. "I want a girlfriend. I keep asking people and I keep getting rejected. But there's this one girl that I really want to ask out, but I'm actually afraid to. I've never had a problem with asking out anyone else, but this one is special. She's gorgeous, smart, funny, and nice, but she doesn't even acknowledge my existence half of the time."

Santa puzzled over this for a few moments. "I know what you need to do," he proclaimed. "You need to either ask her out and get over your fear, or you need to get over this girl."

The boy sighed and got off his lap, walking away dejectedly. Santa thought for a few more moments, then got an idea.

Jack Fenton arrived home that night still mulling over everything that the boy had said to him earlier that day. "Hey Jazzerincess!" he called. His daughter came down the stairs from her room. "I need you to try to cheer up Tucker. Danny and Sam are with him all the time, but they're off doing something." He quickly explained the basics of the situation to Jazz, and she just as quickly agreed to try to help, eager to put her psychology to good use on someone other than her brother.

Jazz arrived home that night in a daze and went straight to her room. Jack walked in about half an hour later. "Hey honey, what happened?"

She still appeared to be in a state of shock. "Tucker asked me out. He said he'd been thinking about it for a long time and finally worked up the nerve."

"So?" Jack prodded. "What did you say?"

Danny was just closing his locker door the next morning when Tucker came skipping, yes skipping, down the hallway. "Oh no," he groaned. "Who gave him coffee?"

Tucker stopped right in front of him and gasped, "Did you hear what happened?"

Danny shrugged, giving him a tired look. "I was up until 2 AM catching Skulker, then the Box Ghost showed up after at 4."

His friend belted, "I asked out Jazz and she said yes!!!!" He accentuated this joyful proclamation with yet another leap into the air, pumping up one fist.

Danny's jaw dropped as he went into over-protective-younger-brother mode. "What?!?!?!"

Well, what do you think? Did you figure it out completely during the first couple of paragraphs, or was it revealed gradually? Do I totally stink at revealing stuff gradually? What about the last line?