young man on his way to the N.B.A.
| The magic Twenty Dollar Bill
Walking down the road I found a twenty dollar bill, back in 1971. I stuffed it down in my ragged jeans. No one was around, but I guess the neighbors sensed that I found it, in a black ghetto, where I resided.
“Hey Tommy you want to walk to school with me?” I was shocked at a popular kid asking me if I wanted to accompany him to school. Richard Whitely was on the varsity school basketball team and all the girls loved him.
“You know you should buy some new jeans, and smile and say hi to the girls”, he said, not really paying much attention to the fact that my parents weren’t as affluent as his.
Their house was independent from most of the houses in the neighborhood. Most of the houses, including mine, were in need of many repairs that couldn’t be afforded by the renters, or landlords.
We got to the school and the people looked at me as though they envied me for being with Richard, while he was constantly saying hello to, it seemed; like everyone in the whole school! “So you can improve your grades, and make something out of your life and even go to college”, he said to me not knowing that I was an A + student with a low self-esteem, and didn’t want my teachers knowing how intelligent I was.
“Tommy I want you to meet me in the gym, at eleven o’clock”, he said, not being concerned about what I was doing at one o’clock. Feeling a little popular myself, I say, “O.K. I’ll be there”,
Walking down the hall to my next class the girls looked at my ragged jeans as if they had E.S.P. , and knew I had twenty dollars. Most of the people at my school were poor, like me. Some bully stopped me just before my social studies class, and went in my pocket and took the twenty dollars. Later that day I saw Richard, the thug that stole my twenty dollars, and two of the cheerleaders from the gym drinking and smoking marijuana, laughing. They didn’t see me. I peeked around the corner.
I sat in my home economics class, which I took up because of not being able to eat breakfast in the morning. My parents could only afford a big dinner that had to get us through the day. You see; I had four little brothers and a brand new baby sister.
I went to the gym feeling not very good with myself. There was a basketball in the corner. I picked it up and began throwing it in the basket. The coach of the varsity team came in and offered me a position, which happened to be Richard Whitley’s position, as guard. I now play for the NBA, and was just regressing back to those times. The thug that stole the twenty dollars ended up shooting Richard, and one of the cheerleaders that I saw drinking, and smoking marijuana ended up being thrown out a window by a senator that was charged with her death. I think we all know the moral of this story.