Johnny stopped in the hallway, hearing them argue about Dad’s work. Just because he had money he wasn’t so big. It was only forty-five lousy bucks. If he had money he wouldn’t even need them. Then, Johnny decided he didn’t want their money anymore. He could mow lawns. No. He couldn’t either. Freddie Pomeroy tried it and the older kids beat him up so he couldn’t cut in. They’d do that to Johnny in a second. At that moment he hated his father, hated him for trapping him this way. He wanted to be alone, on his own, free from having to ask for his things. But Dad’s loud voice downstairs was like a thick hot blanket around him, smothering his life. He was fired up inside. He wanted to punch something hard. The wall. He flexed his fist at the wall. He was about to hit the wall and then...then, he held up, noticing the door of Mom and Dad’s bedroom. For some reason he thought of going inside. They were still arguing in the dining room. Johnny hardly thought about it but then he opened the door and went into their bedroom.

            It was cool inside and smelled fresh. Right on top of the bureau was Mom’s pocketbook. It was the first thing he spotted. He went over there like being pulled, his heart pumping in his stomach. What in the world was he thinking? Stealing? Yes…he was thinking about it. He picked at the clasp on the pocketbook…then got back near the door… Still arguing… Quickly he returned to the bureau and pressed on the clasp. It popped wide open! Over to the door again… Still arguing. Then, back to the pocketbook. He plunged into envelopes and brushes and keys, the sweet smell of lipstick or perfume made his head dizzy. Then, he saw money in an envelope! Right near the top!