Page 43 - SpringBoard_Writing_Workshop_Grade7_Flipbook

Writing Workshop 4 (continued)
My Notes
The problem wasn’t the money for the car, or even the sales tax. I figured I could always argue the owner down the extra couple of bucks. The problem was car insurance. Somehow I didn’t think I could count on finding the insurance money on the corner of Maple and Grove every six months. No insurance, no car. No car, no freedom. I still had my money, but the fun was fast going out of it.
Just to show myself that I could, I went into Woolworth’s and bought some chewing gum. They were out of my brand, but I bought a package of some other brand, and broke one of my singles. The change jingled as I walked away from the mall, chewing my gum, and limping. I found myself walking a half block out of my way, to return to the corner of Maple and Grove, but a scary thing happened once I got there.
I realized I hadn’t gone back to see if there was any more money there but to leave the hundred-dollar bill smack where I’d found it.
You know, I actually wanted the person whose money it was to show up, demanding that I give it back. I looked around for penniless orphans, or Mafia dons, or anybody who looked like they might be searching for a missing Ben Franklin, but the only people on Grove and Maple were the sorts of people who were always on Grove and Maple. I know, because I stood there for close to ten minutes, waiting for someone who looked a hundred dollars poorer than they had the day before.
It was then that I knew what I had to do. So I limped over to the bank. It was Friday, and they were open until five. I walked in, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world for me to be in a bank, and sat down in the section where they keep you waiting if you want to start a new account. For some reason, banks like to keep people waiting before they take their money.
I got comfortable and took my boot off. People looked at me, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I took out the hundred-dollar bill, and a couple of people actually laughed. I grinned, but it was mostly from relief at getting my toes unjammed.
I straightened the bill out, put my boot back on, and got in line. It took a while, but eventually I got to a teller.
“I’d like a hundred singles,” I said, handing her the hundred-dollar bill.
She looked at it like it must be hot, and she called some guy over to check it out. They held it to the light and crinkled it and read the serial numbers and practically asked me for its pedigree before they finally decided the money was legit. I had a bunch of lies available about how it was I happened to have a hundred-dollar bill, but they didn’t ask me and I didn’t volunteer. Instead the teller counted out a hundred singles, and then I counted them with her, and she gave me an envelope to put the dollars in. The envelope was pretty thick once they were all in, but the bank is only a couple of blocks from my house, and there was no way I was going to shove the money back in my boot. Instead I held on to it carefully and walked home, trying to appear inconspicuous. I probably did too.
At supper that night I handed thirty-three dollars to my mother, and thirty-three dollars to Danny. I kept thirty-three for myself, and the remaining dollar I sent to
my father’s post office box. I figured he could buy a Hallmark card with it, to send to himself for Father’s Day.
After supper Mom drove Danny and me to the mall, and we all went shopping. I bought the Walkman with my thirty-three. Good thing it was on sale.
After Reading
4. What is the main focus of this short story?
Students’ responses might include fantasy versus reality, greed versus generosity, growing up.
6 SpringBoard® Writing Workshop with Grammar Activities Grade 7
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