“Hey, look at this,” Ollie yelled. His ten year old brain swimming with excitement.
Stanz and Marshall paid no attention. They were having too much fun splashing in the creek, laughing and attacking each other the way twelve year old boys do.
“Hey,” Ollie hollered a second time. “Look what I found.”
Harold Stanz stood up straight to investigate. Ken Marshall slapped a handful of water in his direction, catching him square in the face. Marshall laughed hysterically. Stanz inhaled a small quantity of creek water and fell into a coughing fit appropriate to the physical assault.
Oblivious, Ollie was persistent if not slightly whiney, “Hey, you guys. This is really cool. Come look.”
Between his thumb and index finger Oliver Stanz held a small coin. It shone brightly in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. It’s luster wasn’t caused by the water covering the boys and the coin, however. It was gold in color and content. Real gold. A substance each of the boys had heard of but none of them had ever seen. Not in real life anyway.
“That’s not real,” announced Marshall after a cursory examination of the find. “It’s just a subway token, or a fake coin from one of those arcades, like Chuck E. Cheese or something.”
“Yeah,” Harold agreed. Peer pressure brought on by a companion he wanted to bond with and impress took hold of his judgement and ability to think freely. “It’s a fake.”
“Boy Ollie, do you get faked out easy,” Marshall teased.
“Yeah,” Harold chimed in, “You’re such a dweeb.”
Ollie held the coin tight, casting his eyes from the coin, to the older boys and back again. Fighting for the courage to stand his ground, he retaliated, “It’s got a date on it.”
“Lemme see,” Harold grabbed for the coin, wresting it from his younger brother’s slick, wet fingers.
“It says 1842, right there,” Ollie jabbed a pudgy finger in the direction of the coin. “It’s old I’m telling you. It’s real money.” Read More →