I didn’t even say good-bye, just slammed
 
 the door and went to check the mailbox.
 
 I figured I’d better keep checking
 
 it until my report card arrived.
 
 It wasn’t there. But something a whole lot
 
 better was—two letters from Citibank.
 
 Inside one was Mom’s new credit card.
 
 Inside the other was a PIN.
 
 I Did Think Twice
 
 about using that Visa, maybe
 
 even three or four times.
 
 But it was just so easy, like fate
 
 had mailed it directly to me.
 
 Mom wouldn’t miss it for weeks.
 
 And then I would deny ever
 
 having laid eyes on the thing.
 
 Robyn gave me a ride to meet
 
 Roberto. He didn’t look near
 
 as scary as he really was.
 
 The buy was a piece of cake.
 
 Except for one thing.
 
 Roberto wouldn’t deal less than
 
 half-ounce quantities. That much,
 
 straight from the source, was relatively
 
 cheap. And Visa paid for it.
 
 I didn’t need it all, of course.
 
 The plan was to sell some,
 
 so my own stash would be free.
 
 Every dealer thinks that until
 
 their nose gets busy.