Ninety-One Thousand Dirty Pennies Dumped on a Driveway in Oak Creek
“I saw you out on your back porch through the trees, Becky,” Irene said in her careful Midwestern lilt.
She patted her apron pockets out of habit, her eyes on the empty playground.
“I need to know how the school district deals with overdue lunch bills,” I said, resting my hands on the cold chain-link fence.
“Noah came home talking about white bread and cheese slices.”
Irene looked over at the quiet cafeteria windows.
“That’s mandatory district policy for any account that’s in the negative.”
“How long do parents have before the school hands the account over to collections?” I asked.