We were sitting on my bedroom floor counting all the coins I had spilled out of my piggy bank.  “How did Holly get so much money?” my brother asked accusingly.  “She saved it,” my father proudly responded.  Only I knew the truth and I wasn’t confessing a word.

Later, the teacher announced to the class that there had been stealing going on in the classroom and it needed to stop.  One of my classmates blurted out, “I saw Holly in here at lunch the other day.”  the teacher quickly came to my defense and said, “That’s not what I’m talking about.”  I sat there in stunned silence with the best poker face a nine-year-old could muster up.

At lunchtime, a few of my friends were discussing the crime and one girl remarked, “It must have been Sally.”  I sat there again with a blank expression on my face.  We all knew Sally was a “bad girl” and got into trouble.  I, on the other hand, got excellent marks in school and always excelled at “playing well with others.”  I was a “good girl” and everybody knew it.

The truth is I did enter the classroom several times at lunch to steal some coin.  When the other student caught me in the room, I told her I was getting my sweater.  I had actually been moving from desk to desk and confiscating as much money as I could get my little hands on.  I was even bold enough to open the teacher’s desk and steal from her.  But since I was a “good girl” no one suspected me, including the teacher.  The lesson I learned was that if you were a good student, were nice to the other kids and were not known for getting into trouble, you could get away with anything.  Or so I thought.

Two years later, it all came crashing down on me.  In a fit of guilt and remorse, I started sobbing to my mother and confessed everything.  Instead of punishing me for being such a horrible thief, she sat there smiling with pride.  She seemed to be happy that I had a conscience and couldn’t live with the secret any longer.  She asked me what I thought I should do.  I decided my best course of action (other than turning myself in to the authorities!) was to send some coins to the kids I remembered stealing from and to disguise my handwriting so they wouldn’t know I was the culprit.  Finally, I had absolved myself and could move on with my life!

Since then, I have been accused of being “compulsively honest” or “ridiculously generous.”  Perhaps I am still over compensating for the sins of my youth.  In case you’re wondering, I am no longer a thief so you can safely hold on to your purses and wallets. And, for the record, I’m a “good girl” now!