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Change for a Dollar

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All he wanted was some juice. As the high school students sat in the Cafeteria on that cloudy afternoon, he was thirsty. We sat near yet away from him, fixing our hair and worrying about the test next period we hadn’t studied for. He was far away from our world, yet forced to be a part of it. He stood at the drink machine with purpose, fumbling through his fake leather wallet for some change, he came up with a wrinkled dollar bill, and nervously glanced back his table where other students in his special needs class were sitting. With the coordination of a six-year old, he tried to make the machine accept his money. After a few unsuccessful attempts, the snickers and comments began. People were laughing at him. He began to shake, and his eyes filled with tears. I saw him turn to sit down, defeated. But for some reason, he decided against it. He wasn’t leaving until he got a drink. With a determined expression, he continued to aimlessly thrust the dollar bill in the machine. Then something terrific happened. A popular senior rose from her seat, and with a look of genuine compassion, went over to the boy. She explained how the machine had a hard time accepting dollars, then gave him some change and showed him where to place it. The boys gave her his dollar and choose a flavor of fruit juice. Then the two walked off into different directions. Although it was clear that they were from very different worlds, for one moment, they’d shared a real understanding. As I walked from my lunch table that day, I looked at that boy. I remember thinking how he and the dollar were very much alike. They both weren’t accepted where the world said they were supposed to be. But just as the dollar had found a place in a caring girl’s pocket, I was sure the boy would eventually find his, too.





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