Paying for College, Page 2

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  Waking up in my dorm room the next morning, the activity of last night was surreal. It seemed like a dream. Jesus, how much did I drink last night? Did I really break into a garage and steal money?

  Sliding out of bed, I pick up my pants. I could see a bulge in the front left pocket.

  After dumping the contents onto the bed, I counted $1,225 in bills and $1.25 in change. I guess I really did break into Mike’s Garage.

  Then I glance at the clock; it is 8:30.

  “Oh crap,” I holler. I have political science at 9.

  I quickly dress into new clothes, and pull a ten-dollar bill out of the stack of money, sliding it into my jean’s pocket.

  Then I hid the remaining money at the bottom of my clothes hamper. Even if I had a roommate, another man is not going to go through another man’s dirty laundry. Men have phobias about touching other men’s used, smelly undergarments.

  I place the clothes that I wore last night, including my old sneakers into a store plastic bag.

  On my way to class, I stop near the cafeteria’s dumpster, and toss the bag of clothes into it.

  I slyly look around, and could see the other students did not show one ounce of interest. It is not unusual for a person to throw garbage away, even though the dormitory has ample trash facilities.