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“
Son
of
a
bitch
,
”
Beltik
said
.
The
crowd
that
had
now
filled
the
room
began
applauding
.
Beltik
,
still
scowling
,
held
out
his
hand
,
and
Beth
shook
it
.
They
were
ready
to
close
by
the
time
she
got
to
the
teller
.
She
’
d
had
to
wait
for
the
bus
after
school
and
wait
again
transferring
down
Main
.
And
this
was
the
second
bank
.
She
’
d
carried
the
folded
check
in
her
blouse
pocket
all
day
,
under
the
sweater
.
It
was
in
her
hand
when
the
man
in
front
of
her
picked
up
his
rolls
of
nickels
and
stuffed
them
in
the
pocket
of
his
overcoat
and
left
the
space
at
the
window
for
her
.
She
set
her
hand
on
the
cold
marble
,
holding
the
check
out
and
standing
on
tiptoe
,
to
be
able
to
see
the
face
of
the
teller
.
“
I
’
d
like
to
open
an
account
,
”
Beth
said
.
The
man
glanced
at
the
check
.
“
How
old
are
you
,
miss
?
”
“
Thirteen
.
”
“
I
’
m
sorry
,
”
he
said
.
“
You
’
ll
need
a
parent
or
guardian
with
you
.
”
Beth
put
the
check
back
in
her
blouse
pocket
and
left
.
At
the
house
,
Mrs
.
Wheatley
had
four
empty
Pabst
Blue
Ribbon
beer
bottles
sitting
on
the
little
table
by
her
chair
.
The
TV
was
off
.
Beth
had
picked
up
the
afternoon
paper
from
the
front
porch
;
she
unfolded
it
as
she
came
into
the
living
room
.
“
How
was
school
,
dear
?
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
’
s
voice
was
dim
and
far
away
.
