Priceless

I sold my childhood when I was fifteen for five dollars. Not my whole childhood, I suppose, you can't sell memories, but a big chunk of it. I took all of my favorite books to the bookstore and sold them.

I sat in front of my bookcase with a box and packed away all my friends. First to go were the members of The Babysitter's Club. All of them. Kristy, Claudia, Mary Anne, Dawn, Stacey, and even Jessi and Mallory, who weren't added until later. I figured the Boxcar Children wouldn't mind residing in this box for a while. Maniac Magee and the kids from Wayside School were next.

It was harder to let go of Ramona Quimby. But in she went, along with Beezus. I hoped Alexander would have a better day eventually. Superfudge would be sharing his antics with someone else.

The lion and the witch fit perfectly, but I had to shove a bit to get the wardrobe inside.

I gave Mr. Henshaw to my sister, to add to Dr. Seuss. I even gave her The Giver, appropriately enough.

Of course, there were some I couldn't throw in that box. The Secret Garden, The Polar Express, A Wrinkle in Time, all the wild things; I tucked all these away in the back of my closet.

Five dollars. That's nothing, not even to a 15-year-old. When the cashier told me that's all my childhood was worth to him, I should have grabbed that box and run away. But I didn't. I smiled as much as I could, accepted the five singles, turned my back on my old friends, and walked out of the store, one step closer to adulthood.