Writing Challenge-Ten Dollar Bill

Marsha handed the cashier a ten dollar bill and accepted the change. She smiled at the cashier and, receiving no response, shrugged, found an empty table and seated herself. She opened her muffin and pealed away the wax paper, making a perfect, scalloped circle on which to set her snack. She sipped her over-priced, over-flavored coffee and couldn't stop the smile that formed on her lips. She'd finally sold an article and was reveling in her accomplishment. She'd rarely even glimpsed into the coffee shop on her way between the dormitory where she lived and the various other buildings on campus. “Scholarship kids” rarely had the time or money for such a costly treat. Today, though, Marsha felt the indulgence was well worth it, and she continued smiling while enjoying the food and drink so many others seemed to take for granted.

Trish counted the cash drawer a third time and realized she must have short-changed someone. The extra ten dollar bill lay next to her paperwork. Knowing her manager hated cash overages as much as shortages, Trish only felt a momentary twinge of conscience before pocketing the bill. It occurred to her that Troy wouldn't be home until midnight, and there was someone she'd so rather see than him. She quickly phoned Jack and found him free for a couple of hours. A call to her baby-sitter, and a ten dollar offer for extended services, put Trish in the best mood she'd been all day. She didn't have the heart to leave Troy, although their relationship had deteriorated to little more than hellos and good-byes, and she often found solace in Jack's arms. This unexpected money would be just the ticket to make her marriage more bearable.

Terrence thanked Mrs. Sanders for the money and thought, not for the first time since he'd been working for her, that she smelled of sex. Figuring it was none of his business, he put the idea away and began the walk to Joey's. Terrence hadn't told his mother about the extra two hours of baby-sitting he'd done. “This ten dollar bill is all mine. Not just more dough to put into Momma's hands,” Terrence thought aloud. For the first time in weeks, he was finally going to be able to pitch in for beer during his overnight stay at his best friend's house. Terrence whistled as he walked in the dark, not knowing there was a casual bounce in his step. Joey came from money. It didn't matter to the boys' friendship, but Terrence hated to feel like such a douchebag that he could never contribute like their other friends did. Feeling both more relaxed and just a little anxious to get his hands on some beer, Terrence walked the five blocks to Joey's.

Joey pushed the ten dollar bill back into Terrence's hand. He didn't need his friend's money, and Terrence was the last person he ever expected to give to the boys' weekend party plans. Harry and Mark, yes, but not Terrence. When Joey's return was refused, he sighed and stuffed the ten spot into his pocket. Knowing Joey's luck, that ten would be found in the dryer the next time the housekeeper did the wash. What was cash when you had your own credit cards? In your parents' names, of course.  Between accepting the bill and handing Terrence a cold bottle of beer, Joey quickly forgot about the money.

Mary Theresa found the crumpled ten dollar bill when she was going through Young Joey's jeans. The rule of the house was “Anything less than a one hundred dollar bill is yours.” She figured Old Joey had made that up because she refused to take tips when she was already on an hourly wage. She'd often left money only to find it tucked neatly into her purse. She continued sorting the wash, wondering just what she should do with the small bonus, when she remembered her granddaughter's asking for money to purchase a card for a school friend who was in the hospital. The cost of taking care of her grandchildren often found Mary Theresa stretching every last penny, since both of the kids' parents were in jail, and pride made Mary Theresa refuse help from the government. Before leaving for the day, Mary Theresa saw her ten broken into two fives so she could give one to each of her grandchildren, allowing Mary to keep her pride intact.