100 Words: David

The boy with the mohawk, tattoos, safety pin in his ear called yesterday from his cousin's cellphone. He's stuck in Nebraska, no ticket home.

He's called a few times, so I know he's desperate to get back where he belongs. Usually, I get a quick message on Facebook. “Hi, mom. I’m still alive!” When he calls, he knows I can hear the homesickness in his voice. I'm no rookie. This is a tactic to get money.

In my mind, he’ll appreciate being home much more if he has to work a little harder to get here.

It's a tough call.

100 Words: Wayward Son

He strolls right through the front door every Friday without knocking, though he's never lived here.  He'll spend his time eating our food, flipping through our channels and catching up on juicy family gossip. He might even remember to ask about his nephews.
I'll pretend it doesn't bother me that he dyed his beautiful blond curls a patchy, weak black. I'll let the other kids razz him for it. Next time we see him, it'll be back to normal.
When he's had all he can take of us, he'll rise, stretch, and say those three little words...

"I need money."