For six months, I believed my thirteen-year-old son was saving every paycheck for the mountain bike he desperately wanted. Then his diner boss called and asked one question: did I know what Evan did with his money? I drove there immediately. I found my son arguing with an older man named Cal over a white envelope containing his paycheck. Cal insisted Evan had tried giving him every cent, while Evan kept saying he owed him.]]
Then I saw Evan’s backpack spilled across the floor. Inside were envelopes and a folded bus map covered in red circles. Beside several locations were dollar amounts and words like TIRES, HAIRCUT, and STORE LADY. His boss revealed Evan had kept just one paycheck in six months. The rest had gone somewhere else. I demanded answers, and Evan finally looked frightened. Whatever he had been doing every Saturday, it had never been about a bicycle.
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