Beside them was a school cafeteria receipt several days old.
Something felt wrong.
That evening, after homework, I sat beside him.
“What did you eat for lunch today?”
He kept looking at his worksheet.
“Food.”
“What food?”
“School food.”
“What kind of school food?”
His pencil stopped moving.
“Noah.”
He looked toward the hallway.
Then he jumped out of his chair and screamed into his bedroom.
I followed.
He dropped to his knees, reached underneath the bed, and pulled out the pencil case.
One bill at a time, he emptied it onto his comforter.
Thirty-eight dollars.
Before I could ask what was happening, he walked to his closet.
And opened the door.
Hanging from the handle was a clear garment bag.
Inside was the little red dress.
For several seconds, I could only stare.
“You bought it?”
His face lit up.
“I got the last one.”
I looked from the dress to the money.
