Page 27 of The Secret to Belonging

your brother isn’t home

but you find an envelope on your dresser

inside is a quarter and a note

this looks like an ordinary quarter, but it isn’t. it’s a lucky quarter. i won it in a bet back in middle school and i’ve carried it around in my pocket ever since. i thought maybe you’d need a little luck at the north pole, you know? so here ya go.

put in a good word with Santa, will ya? tell him i’m trying to get off the naughty list.

it isn’t signed

the car is passing Dodger Stadium

when you realize

you forgot your passport

your father takes the next exit

and turns around

your mother’s mouth flattens

into a thin, taut line

you speed

all the way home

in the driveway

your mother fumes about being late

your father fiddles with the radio dial

you run back into the empty house

take the stairs two at a time

you grab your passport off your dresser

and notice

your albums

at least half of them

are missing

your brother’s room in the basement looks

like a scene from Animal House

a normal person would think it had been ransacked

but this is the natural habitat of an aspiring felon

you rip a piece of paper from the notebook on his desk