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Billy looked down at the bill again. That was it? This is all there is? It doesn’t seem like enough. A small drop of dark red blood fell onto the bill, and somehow appropriately, it filled a

spot on both sides of the tear that almost made the single bill two separate halves. Ten minutes

ago, it was not torn. Ten minutes ago Billy was not bleeding. Ten minutes ago, the world was so

much more fun. Ten minutes after ten minutes ago, the world seems cold, harsh, and dangerous.

Tears tried to form in Billy’s eyes, but he fought them back. This was a hellova way to begin his fourteenth birthday.

Billy looked up at Rhonda, as she walked away; dragging her coat with one hand, and

pulling her shirt back up over her shoulder as she went. Somehow, he knew she would be okay.

But it was his birthday. There were supposed to be well-wishers, songs, cards, and presents.

Well, there was the one card, and one dollar inside it, but birthdays were supposed to be so much

more. And surely the girl wasn’t supposed to leave you alone on your birthday. Billy watched as Rhonda disappeared around the corner.

Why did this happen? By New York standards, this is a small town – not supposed to be

full of bullies or whatever.

Fourteen on the fourteenth. The golden birthday. Billy’s birthdays had developed into something of a ritual, even though there were only fourteen of them. Billy got to check the post

office mail box for the day’s letters. Billy checked the mailbox on his way to school. Only one

card. Billy wasn’t even sure what his grandmother’s first name was, or when the last time was

that he saw her, but he knew even though she had 35 or so grandchildren, there would always be

a card from her on his birthday. This was that card.

Billy still had the dollar in his hand when he walked out into the cold sunlight, but he must

have been just a little early. At least the look on the two boys’ faces was one of surprise. Billy

knew one of the boys, Randy, from school, but the other he didn’t know. The one he didn’t know

looked to be fifteen or maybe sixteen. And Billy knew Rhonda. He had a crush on Rhonda since

they were both in the second grade. The older boy had pushed Rhonda against the brick wall of

the post office. Her coat was lying on the ground, and her shirt had been torn open at the buttons.

Her eyes told the story: She was frightened.

“Just go the other way, Billy,” Randy said.

“Just walk away,” the older boy said. Billy turned. He took one step away and started to shake. He stopped walking.

“No,” he said. “You leave her alone.”

Everything happened so fast. Randy pushed Billy into the brick wall. Billy bounced back,

swinging his arms wildly. He had never been in a fight before. He felt the cold sting of something hitting his right cheek, and he felt the left side of his head bounce on the sidewalk and pain instantly filled his head.

Somehow, adrenaline, anger and fear controlling every move, he got back on his feet and charged the older boy, putting his head down at the last minute, planting it into the chest of the

older boy. The older boy was pushed hard into the brick wall of the post office. Billy thought he

could hear the thud of the boy’s head hitting the bricks.

Somewhere in the distant background, Billy could hear Rhonda screaming. He turned to

look for her and felt the cold sting of a fist in his nose. Billy fell down again.

With his eyes watering and his nose stinging from the blow, he felt the hard kick to his

stomach and bent in half from the pain. Then he felt another in his back. Then another, and

another until he lost count. It seemed like a day or two, but it was over in a few seconds.

“Come on,” Randy said. “Let’s get out a here.”

Billy waited what seemed like a week as Rhonda made her way to him. She didn’t speak,

but helped Billy to his feet.

The eeriness of the crime scene was all there: a small amount of blood in the piled high

snow, scuff marks and what looked like a chunk of human hair on the brick building.

Rhonda bent down and picked up the dollar bill. She looked at it and said, “It’s torn, but

it’s still good. Here.” She handed the dollar to Billy and said, “Thanks.” She turned and walked

away without another word.

Billy looked down at the bill in his hand.

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