“So you're all set for money, then?" the boy named Crow asks in his typical sluggish voice. The kind of voice like when you've just woken up and your mouth still feels heavy and dull. But he's just pretending. He's totally awake. As always. I nod. "How much?" I review the numbers in my head. "Close to thirty-five hundred in cash, plus some money I can get from an ATM. I know it's not a lot, but it should be enough. For the time being." "Not bad," the boy named Crow says. "For the time being." I give him another nod. "I'm guessing this isn't Christmas money from Santa Claus." "Yeah, you're right," I reply. Crow smirks and looks around. "I imagine you've started by rifling drawers, am I right?" I don't say anything. He knows whose money we're talking about, so there's no need for any long-winded interrogations. He's just giving me a hard time. "No matter," Crow says. "You really need this money and you're going to get it--beg, borrow, or steal. It's your father's money, so who cares, right? Get your hands on that much and you should be able to make it. For the time being. But what's the plan after it's all gone? Money isn't like mushrooms in a forest--it doesn't just pop up on its own, you know. You'll need to eat, a place to sleep. One day you're going to run out." "I'll think about that when the time omes," I say. "When the time comes," Crow repeats, as if weighing these words in his hand. I nod. "Like by getting a job or something?" "Maybe," I say. Crow shakes his head. "You know, you've got a lot to learn about the world. Listen--what kind of job could a fifteen-year old kid get in some far-off place he's never been to before? You haven't even finished junior high. Who do you think's going to hire you?" I blush a little. Forget it," he says. "You're just getting started and I shouldn't lay all this depressing stuff on you. You've already decided what you're going to do, and all that's left is to set the wheels in motion. I mean, it's your life. We're in my father's study, our usual meeting spot.