His forehead rested up against the plexiglass divider.
Patrick was on edge and had every right to be. Trying to cash a fraudulent check was risky business. And to do something illegal was completely out of character, but the kid had his reasons.
Good grades meant she would pay for his class trip. But his mother reneged, and he was left sitting home.
“Sorry sir, a hold’s been placed on this check,” the teller said.
Patrick turned, sprinted across the lobby. He was almost out of the bank when spotted her standing there in the vestibule, arms crossed.
“Hello, Mother.”
The Weekday One Hundred 