Read Pretty in Plaid: A Life, a Witch, and a Wardrobe, or the Wonder Years Before the Condescending, Egomaniacal Self-Centered Smart-Ass Phase for Free Online

and begin to march down the hill toward the wealthy neighborhood. Maybe I didn’t earn all these badges legitimately.
    But it’s not too late to make up for them.

    When I receive my next badge at our scout meeting, I demand my mother sew it on properly. I wear it like a medal of honor. When anyone asks what the big brown patch on the back of my sash is for, I gladly tell them it’s for selling more cookies than anyone else in the region. I win!
    I canvassed the rich people one block over, hounding them mercilessly until their names filled every blank on my order sheet. I was far more aggressive than any bill collector or repo man. I didn’t even care that it was going to take me ages and ages to deliver all those cookies when the time came.
    Because I know that I legitimately earned that patch on the back of my sash. And I am proud.

The Green Badge of Courage

    (Kelly Green Speedo Tank Suit)
    D onna and I are at our Tuesday night swimming lesson at the YWCA. She’s working on getting her Athletics badge. Technically, I already have one, but I’m going through all the steps anyway. I don’t have to; I want to.
    Besides, I love swimming lessons! I dig everything about them—carpooling with Donna and her sister, smelling the chlorine on my stretchy green Speedo bathing suit 18 later when I get home, watching the steam form at the top of the natatorium where the air meets the freezing cold glass, floating along in warm water even though it’s the middle of winter, and best of all, hitting the vending machine after the lesson.
    Every week I bring a quarter to buy ice cream from the machine. My mother monitors my coin situation because she realizes that given the opportunity, I would eat dessert until I collapsed on myself like a dying star.
    Usually I choose an ice cream sandwich because I can never properly wipe all the Fudgsicle residue from the corners of my mouth. I’m not a huge fan of the vanilla stuff covered in a thin chocolate layer, either. One bite and the coating falls on the ground, and five-second rule or not, I won’t eat a treat off of a place where ten thousand bare feet have trod.
    I insert my quarter and hold my breath, exhaling when I open the trap door to find one sandwich. Once earlier this winter I put in a quarter and got two ice cream sandwiches, so I’m perpetually hopeful.
    We had a great lesson tonight. We worked on backstroke so I got in plenty of quality ceiling-viewing time. I particularly like when the water surrounds everything but my face and how muffled and muted all the gleeful screaming and splashing becomes. Maybe I’m getting more mature now that I’m nine, but I’m beginning to recognize and appreciate these small moments of Zen. Plus, I’m the fastest at backstroking and nothing pleases me more than beating the Speedos off everyone else.
    Donna, her sister Leslie, and I are all dry and dressed after our lesson, my wet suit stuffed in a plastic bread bag inside my satchel. We’ve got our towels wrapped around our damp heads and we sit in companionable silence on a bench in the front entrance, enjoying the last of our ice cream as we wait for their dad to pick us up. My favorite bit of this ritual is when the sandwich melts into my fingers, leaving just enough bonus ice cream and cookie shell to lick off afterward.
    “Hey, look, Tony’s here!” Leslie exclaims.
    “Who’s Tony?” I ask.
    “He’s a friend of my daddy’s,” Leslie tells me. “He hangs out in his bar.”
    “He’s real nice,” Donna adds. “Hi, Tony. What are you doing here?”
    “Hey, girls! Your dad asked me to come and get you.”
    “All right, let’s go!” They grab their stuff and begin to follow Tony. I am none too thrilled to be riding with someone I don’t know, but Leslie and Donna seem comfortable so I grudgingly toss my wrapper in the trash and pick up my tote bag. I would simply call my mother but I only had the one quarter and obviously I just used it.
    We ride to Donna’s house