The Power
Being the smallest in my class had its problems. Everyone was bigger than I was. And Sam was the biggest. He never left me alone. It was the third time this week that he asked me to provide him with my lunch money. No matter how many ways I tried to avoid him, he managed to find me, whether it was on the playground, in the boys’ bathroom, or just on line waiting for the bus.
That all changed when my mother found out about it. She caught me taking money out of her dresser and I ‘fessed up. She said she would go to school and speak to the principal. I pleaded with her not to and told her to wait just until the middle of the following week. I said I would deal with it.
It’s a good thing that my mother had trust in me. It was also a good thing that on the weekend, she took me to the garage sale at Old Man Klein’s house. I was a little hesitant to go. Everyone in town knew that he was crazy. He would always yell at kids in the neighborhood if they made too much noise. He was even known to throw eggs at us when we waited for our school bus outside his house. But my mother was with me, so I felt safe to go to the sale.
Among all of the things, he had out on one of his tables I noticed a strange-looking stick. It was pretty small and only cost 5 cents. It had some writing on it, but not in a language that I understood. As I gazed at the stick, a gnarled hand touched my shoulder. I turned around to look into the face of Old Man Klein.
“I see you have good taste,” he said, staring into my face. I stood still, too scared to run or make a sound.
“That stick is meant for you. It has magical powers.” He paused and held it out to me in his hand, “Go ahead take it. Feel its power it will make you strong.”
As I held it in my hand, something came over me. I don’t know if it was power, warmth, or just confidence. I put my hand in my pocket and handed Old Man Klein, the nickel I had brought. The next thing I knew he was gone.
I put the stick in my pocket and forgot about it.
When Monday came Sam was there and as per usual demanding my lunch money. I remembered about the magic stick in my pocket, the confidence that I felt surged through me, and I said, “No! And if you try to do this again, I will make you give me your lunch money.”
Sam looked at me in awe. Whatever he saw in me, scared him. He backed away and stuttered, “Su..S..ure. You you keep your dirty old money. There are plenty more fish in the sea to fry.” And he left.
The magic stick had worked. I felt great. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized that I wasn’t wearing the same pair of pants I wore at the garage sale. You know, the one that had the magic stick in the pocket.
