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by Susan Beth Peer I ound it on the corner o Maple and Grove streets. Tat isn’t the way I usually walk home rom school, but that day I had gotten lost in thought and orgotten to turn at Oak, which saves me a hal block. Which only goes to prove that daydreaming can be cost-eective. Anyway, there it was, not exactly glistening in the sunlight, because dollar bills don’t glisten. I knew it was a bill o some sort, because it had that well-used green look to it, but I assumed that it was a ve, or maybe i my luck were extraordinary, a ten. Whatever it was, I was going to be happy to have it, so I bent down ast, to make sure I got it beore anybody else walking down Grove or Maple could nd it. It’s a well-walked intersection. I bent down, scooped the money up, and started walking away ast, with that heartbeating sensation o having done something exciting and wrong, even though as ar as I know, there’s no crime in nding money on the street. I’ve read about people who do that or a hobby, jog with their heads down, collecting the nickels and dimes they nd as they run. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a dime, and I didn’t eel like taking any chances. So I bent, swooped, and increased my pace until by the time I reached Elm I was hal running. Not that anybody cared. Te rest o the world kept on walking toward whatever their lives were propelling them to. Te money was as much mine as i it had been lef to me by some municent great aunt. I was three doors away rom my house beore I took the bill out o my jacket pocket, to check its denomination. As I did, I noticed there was a hole in my pocket and the money had slipped into the lining. It took a bit o searching beore I ound it, but eventually my ngers made contact, and I ound what I was looking or. It was a hundred-dollar bill. I had never seen one beore, so I wouldn’t have recognized it, but it was clearly labeled. Ben Franklin stared at me—and I swear he winked—as I turned his bill over and over, not believing it could be real, not believing my luck. Once I knew what I had, I ran like the devil the three houses to mine. My ngers shook as I searched or the ront-door key, and I dropped my schoolbooks all over the ront stoop, I was clutching onto the money so hard. continued My Notes Activity 1.9 AcAdeMic vOcABuLAry Characterization refers to the methods writer uses to revel chrcter: • the chrcter’s ppernce • wht the chrcter sys nd does • wht others sy bout the chrcter. A H u n d r e d B u c k s of H appy Short Story © 2010 College Bord. all rights reserved. un 1 • The Choices We Make 19
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