“It’s ten dollars,” I says.
“Ten dollars?” she says, staring at me.
“And you ought to be damn glad to get that,” I says, “A kid like you. What are you in such a rush for money all of a sudden for?”
“Ten dollars?” she says, like she was talking in her sleep, “Just ten dollars?” She made a grab at the money order. “You’re lying,” she says. “Thief!” she says, “Thief!”
“You would, would you?” I says, holding her off.
“Give it to me!” she says, “It’s mine. She sent it to me. I will see it. I will.”
“You will?” I says, holding her, “How’re you going to do it?”
“Just let me see it, Jason,” she says, “Please. I wont ask you for anything again.”
“Think I’m lying, do you?” I says. “Just for that you wont see it.”
“But just ten dollars,” she says, “She told me she—she told me—Jason, please please please. I’ve got to have some money. I’ve just got to. Give it to me, Jason. I’ll do anything if you will.”