Twenty-eight Dollars

I grew up in Grover, a small town in Southern Ohio. Grover was a factory town, divided in two sections, the North and the South. The rich families (factory owners and management) lived in large houses in the North. The poor kids(factory workers) lived in the South and the poorest of the families lived in Park Valley apartments, where I lived. The apartment complex was next to the paper mill and the smell of burning trees could be smelled in every home. Most of us had gotten used to the smell but it was strong enough to take your breath away if you were from out of town. In the center of the smog covered, circular shaped complex was a park. The swing set had only one remaining swing and the small slide was covered in rust, but all of the kids in the neighborhood hung out there. We had nowhere else to go.

My best friend, Quinn, lived in the same apartment building as my family. Her family had lived in the neighborhood for over a year which meant she was now 'permanent' because very few families lived their longer than a year. As a perm you were treated with respect but your reputation was etched in stone. I was known as the quiet one, always lost inside my thoughts. It was an accurate reputation, but Quinn's reputation as a bully was not. Quinn got into many fights but only to defend the more weak and abused among us. The truth was that Quinn was a compassionate, fiery person. Someone I was proud to call a friend.

I was enjoying my last week of summer vacation on the swing. It was my place to go and think. I was in an unusually good mood but everything changed in an instant. I saw Quinn running toward me, her red curls bouncing behind her, and I got up from my place on the swing.

"He found it." Quinn yelled.

"Found what?"

"The money."

"Oh my gosh," was the only response I could muster. My heart began beating rapidly and I bit my lip to keep from crying.

"I know you told me to keep the money at your house but," she began crying, "I never thought he would look there."

Quinn's father had an addiction to painkillers. When his pills were gone, he would storm through the house looking for money or anything of value, as if his life depended on finding what he was looking for. Everyone in the neighborhood knew about him. Quinn had tried to hide it at first, but all anyone had to do was look at him to know something was wrong with the man.

"I spent my whole summer babysitting, just to have him steal my money," Quinn sobbed. School was starting in less than a week and Quinn knew her dad wouldn't buy her school supplies, so she had hidden the money in her tampon box. Normally hiding money from family was a sin in our neighborhood because we all had so little of it, but in Quinn's case, I don't think she had much of a choice. Besides, I had a small secret stash of money, too.

I reached for my small handbag and unzipped it when I heard the sound of my brother's voice. "What are you dummies doing?" Jimmy asked as he and friends walked into the park.

"Nothing," I told him, hoping he hadn't seen me unzipping my purse.

"Why do you look so suspicious?" Jimmy's best friend, Felix asked suddenly. I wasn't sure if he was joking or if he could really sense that I was trying to hide something.

"Look," Quinn said, "it's none of your business so just leave us alone."

"What's wrong with you?" Jimmy asked, now noticing Quinn's tear-stained face.

Quinn hesitated. "My dad found the money."

Everyone knew what she was talking about.

"Well," Paul said "I'm sure if we put our heads together we can come up with a plan." He was a very practical young man.

"I have five dollars," Felix said and handed him a five-dollar bill.

"I have three." Paul said.

Jimmy reached into his pocket and without a word handed Quinn nine dollars. My eleven made twenty-eight dollars. All of our secret, forbidden money had bought Quinn plenty of paper, pens, folders, pencils, and everything else she needed because Twenty-eight dollars was more than enough to buy school supplies in my neighborhood.