Page 41 - SpringBoard_Writing_Workshop_Grade7_Flipbook

Writing Workshop 4 (continued)
My Notes
I shouldn’t have bothered. Mom’s eyes lit right away, and even Danny stopped inhaling his frozen dinner.
“How much?’ they both asked. It was eerie how fast they got the words out.
There are people in this world who can lie. I’m not one of them. “A hundred dollars,” I said. “I found a hundred-dollar bill.”
“A hundred bucks!” Danny breathed. “Wow!”
“A hundred dollars,” Mom said. “Well you certainly can’t keep it.” “Why not?” I asked.
“It isn’t yours,” she replied. “You have to find its owner.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” I asked. Actually, it was a question I’d been asking myself ever since I checked the denomination. “Advertise in the paper? Ask its owner to describe what the money looks like? Does Ben Franklin wear glasses, or does he have his contacts in? Is he wearing a wedding ring? Mom, there’s no way to find out who lost it.”
“What if it belonged to some poor person?” she asked, but I could see she was weakening.
“Poor people don’t carry hundred-dollar bills,” I replied.
“I bet it’s mob money,” Danny said. “And when the mob finds out it’s missing, they’ll hire a hit man to shoot Chris. Terrific!”
“No one’s going to shoot me,” I told him. “Besides, I intend to spend the money so fast, there won’t be anything for the mob to collect. I thought I’d go to the mall tomorrow and pick some stuff up.
“You can’t do that,” Mom said. “You have to give me the money.” “How do you figure that?” I asked.
“We need it,” she said.
“I sure need it,” Danny said. “I want my share.”
“I’m not sharing,” I told him.
“Fine,” Mom said. “So you can give it to me.” I swear they must send mothers to school somewhere, when they’re in an embryonic mother state, kind of like the pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers, before they become fully formed humans. At mother school, they’re taught how to ignore the obvious to go after what they want.
“If I’m not sharing, I’m not giving,” I said. “The money is mine. I found it. There’s a lot of stuff I need, and I intend to get myself some of it.”
Mom snorted. “Wait until you see how long a hundred dollars lasts,” she said.
“I look forward to finding out,” I said, trying to sound dignified.
The rest of supper was kind of a drag, with Danny whining and Mom sulking and me thinking about the money sitting on my bed, waiting for the world to come and snatch it. As soon as I could, I went back to my room and shoved the bill into the toe of my boot. Then I hid both boots under my bed. No point taking any chances.
It was positively painful sitting through school the next day. Of course having a hundred-dollar bill shoved inside my boot didn’t make things any more comfortable. I kept wiggling my toe around to make sure the money was still there, until my foot started cramping. It’s not easy being rich.
4 SpringBoard® Writing Workshop with Grammar Activities Grade 7
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