The Money Tree

Tyra rubbed her sleepy eyes as the first streaks of sunlight delicately roused the crisp, cool air and the soft, delicious fragrance of mint to announce the dawning of another radiant spring day. The little town of Palm Valley stirred with a great deal of gusto, but sadly, the sun did not seem to shine for Tyra, who slumped in bed and mulled over the events of her bitter and thorny life. As the birds chirped their sweet songs of praise, she leisurely crawled out of bed, dragged herself to the shower, and emerged minutes later, dressed for the mildly cool day.

Clearing the lump in her throat, she glanced down broodingly at her yellow dress and grimaced at the orange spots that were reminiscent of polka dots, running randomly over the petite outfit. The tiny twelve-year-old delicately smoothed away the fine wrinkles and sighed, “I long for a new dress.”

“What did you say?” a somewhat abrasive voice chimed in. Tyra looked up with alarm and saw her sister Jan peering inquisitively through the exquisite drapes at her.

Jan, the overly tall fifteen-year-old “shrink” in the family, really went overboard to fulfill her compulsion to take care of everybody else’s affairs. Occasionally, her cloying, prying attitude made Tyra feel like she had eaten far too much egg custard.

“Nothing; really, nothing,” said an evasive Tyra. “I was just mumbling to myself.”

“What were you grumbling about?” Jan insisted, obviously not aware of the meaning of the word “surrender,” and no longer concerned about the small cobweb that she was removing from the attractive double-pane window that adorned the once-majestic house.

Tyra flicked her dark eyes anxiously. “I’m nervous about school. I don’t want to fail again.” She pursed her pink lips hesitantly, before switching to nibble on her nails. Silently, she mocked herself – her game just wasn’t cutting it today; she wasn’t even convincing herself that she could stand up to Jan.

“But Tyra, you get good grades. You just need to go to school or else—” Jan stepped from behind the dark drapes, shrugged nonchalantly, and started to nurse a pimple on her face.

“Or else what?” Tyra stopped momentarily to eject a tiny piece of her nail that she’d nibbled off. She wasn’t sure where it landed and she just didn’t care, either. She knew what was next in Jan’s scheme, and somehow she wished that Jan would just vanish in the misty mirror that she was now holding upright in her long, slender hand.

“You are going to repeat sixth grade. Huh! What do you expect?” Jan continued to blow her trumpet of doom. She raised two perfectly arched brows and Tyra thought she saw a smirk, but resorted to the notion that her eyes were simply playing tricks on her.

“I guess, but I just—” Tyra’s edgy voice trailed off. “I don’t feel like going to school today! I have terrible pains that just won’t go away.” She rubbed her flat stomach lightly, but Jan just rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. Sensing that her ploy wasn’t going to net her the necessary points to make peace with Jan, Tyra shouted horrendously, “Anyway, you are not Mom! You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

Tyra felt the anger soar and race through her slim frame. Jan was too close to the truth – Tyra needed to get back to school on a consistent basis. But the reality was that Tyra didn’t even want to entertain the thought. She already knew the painful truth, and hearing it one hundred and one times was not going to help solve the crisis; and anyway, the morning had just started, and she certainly didn’t have the mindset for this kind of squabble.

“Why do you want to stay home? C’mon, tell me.” Jan looked directly at Tyra without even blinking.

“Get off my case!” Tyra felt her ears grow hot, and her tongue itched to sting Jan in the line of attack.

“I am getting sick of your imbecile behavior.” Jan paused to display an impish smile, as she soaked briefly in the memory of learning the word just two days ago.

“Imbe… what?” Tyra flushed with embarrassment. Whatever the word meant, Tyra could tell it was nothing flattering.

Choosing to close her eyes to Tyra’s ignorance, Jan persisted on a roll to get her sister in her clutches. “No wonder Dr. Chambers said that you shrink away from friends like a dried-up prune!” Jan yelled at Tyra without flinching. She did not seem to care that her words were slicing Tyra’s spirit. Jan yearned to get the pain off her chest, and this moment was as good as it was ever going to get.

As the knifelike words pierced Tyra, she knew that she was at the point of explosion. She swiftly lifted one of her threadbare slippers to pelt Jan, but stopped short when she caught sight of Jan’s reflection in the tiny mirror. She recoiled as she saw a