Angel Trilogy

The Beginning​

A coin purse.
It was just a simple coin purse with a zipper top. Surely I could see nothing outstanding about it and it was certainly not expensive.
But for me this plain coin purse became the symbol of my maturity. I had now graduated to the fourth grade. Surely I had left my childhood behind and had become this more mature, responsible girl.
That’s not how my mom saw me.
“Why do you want that coin purse? All you’re going to do is lose it like you lose everything,” she said.
I bit my lip. Not this time. I would hold on to this wallet forever-and-a-day. My mom would then recognize that I indeed had blossomed into a mature young lady.
My mom handed me the coin holder, and I stuffed my dollar into it. This constituted my entire life’s savings, lunch money for the week. I would guard that coin purse with my life. I gathered my books and headed for school.
The teacher taught us all about George Washington, adjectives and adverbs, and long division. I stuffed my hand in my pocket, wanting to feel the symbol of my maturity. My hand reached all the way down to the bottom of my empty pocket.
A lump the size of a lemon formed in my throat. Surely, the coin purse hadn’t vanished. I must have dropped it when I sat down. It had to be on the floor, right down there by my feet.
I glanced down.
Nothing.
Without attracting the teacher’s attention, I looked around on the floor. Nothing there. Could it be under my desk? As best as I could, I swept the area with my foot. Still no luck.​