Helping Chrissy

My ears perked up when I heard my mother mention my name to the person on the other end of the phone. Then my stomach dropped.

“Beth told Chrissy she wouldn’t be her friend anymore? Unless Chrissy bought candy for her?”

I never said those things to Chrissy, my neighborhood friend from third grade. Yet something told me I was in serious trouble as I listened to my mom negotiate the deal.

“Beth, come in here right now,” she said urgently after hanging up.

I burst into the kitchen to find her digging through her purse.

“Don’t ask questions,” she said, handing me three crumpled dollar bills. “Just take this to Mrs. XX, say you’re sorry, and come home immediately.”

“What did I do?” I wailed, a lump of fear in my throat and tears in my eyes.

“I’ll explain later, but go now.”

Mrs. XX yanked the door open, smelling like stale smoke and alcohol. My heart pounded as I meekly extended the three dollars.

“You’re a stuck-up brat!” she spat. “And you aren’t allowed to play with Chrissy anymore. Ever!"

“Okay,” I whispered before turning and racing home as instructed.

Once there, I collapsed into my mom’s arms, sobbing.

“I didn’t take Chrissy’s money or tell her to buy me candy!”

“I know you didn’t, honey” she said, surprising me.

“Then why did I have to return the money to Mrs. XX?”

“I know you didn’t do it,” she said. “But Chrissy must have lied for a good reason. You know how Mrs. XX can be.”

I understood immediately. My mother’s faith in me was all I needed. Together, we did what we could to keep Chrissy safe from her mom. It didn’t matter what others thought, as long as my mother believed in me. She always did.

300 words