Once upon a time there was a small little junior high school. At this little junior highschool the teachers all did their best, and the students, also, definitely tried their best. But you know, even when people try to do their best, they sometimes make very big mistakes. Sometimes children going through adolescence experience profound changes both in themselves and in their social environment, and as a result a young man or woman may feel deeply insecure about who they are. So adolescents experiment and try different things to establish a sense of security and belonging. 

One day a fantastic rumor began to spread throughout the school. The rumor, was that one of the newer kids was fantastically rich and would give you a hundred dollar bill just to talk to him. What made the rumor somewhat plausible was the fact that recently in this small town that previously was populated by very humble people indeed had families moving into it from the big city into big luxurious houses. So it was a rich kid! But to some, including my own twelve year old self, it seemed too good to be true. It was in December and who wouldn’t want some cold hard cash to spend if one was so lucky to be taken to the mall in far away Phoenix, just a two hour drive away? 

While I was pondering all of these things in my heart, my friend Jarid whispered to me in class, “Did you get your money?” 

“No,” I said. That rumor isn’t true, is it?

Jarid smiled a toothy smile then pulled out of his pocket a pen. Then he slowly took the pen apart and inside of it was rolled up a one hundred dollar bill! Our jaws both fell open and our eyes were as big as the harvest moon. “Jarid and Wesley and get back to work,” the teacher yelled at us. Jarid deftly stuffed the cash safely into his jacket pocket and we got out our three ring binder with color coded dividers. Opened it to that period and started taking our annotated notes. 

When class was over I asked Jarid how he got it, and if the rumors were true after all. He said it wasn’t a rumor. All you had to do was go to the new kid, and ask for a “pen.” Then you had to wait a day, and then the next day he would have a pen with your name on it, with $100 dollars inside. “Why not,” I asked myself. That afternoon as we all climbed out of the sunken part of the West Sedona School campus toward the bus circle I tapped the new kid on the shoulder. He turned around quickly and looked…scared. 

“Hi, I’m Wes,” I said. “Umm. May I please have a pen?”

The new kid looked around nervously, he said, “Sure. I’ll have a pen for you tomorrow.” 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Then he got on his bus that went to the new part of town. I got on my bus that went to the old part of town. When I got home there was a list of chores that had to be done including stacking firewood, taking out the trash, and various types of manual labor, and I knew for certain there was one thing I wouldn’t find: stacks of hundred dollar bills. I fantasized in my mind what I could buy with a hundred dollars: a mountain bike! A