deep-space probe.
“Mommy said they can’t pay you or they’ll go bankrupt.”
Ah. Well. That figures.
Markie’s folks were paying for the house and an apartment—Markie stayed put in the family home and his mom and dad moved in and out according to their custody schedule.
I hoped to keep my job. Markie needed me. Or I needed him. I hadn’t figured that out yet. But there’s something really nice about spending time with a little kid. You learn so much.
“Bankrupt means they don’t have a lot of money right now,” I said. “It’s a grown-up thing, and you don’t have to worry. I’m going to keep coming over like always, even if they can’t pay.”
“Cool.”
Yeah, I thought, lack of money is the new in thing. “Hey, how about a banana dipped in melted chocolate chips?” He nodded and started peeling.
I am an excellent babysitter. Kids in my care get their three to five daily servings of fruit.
I shook some chocolate chips into a microwavesafe bowl and wondered: Why was the universe ganging up to make sure I didn’t have any money?
Whoever says youth is the best time in your life has cash in hand and can’t remember being poor.
My best friend, JonPaul, pounded on the door just as the microwave dinged. You know you’ve got a great friend when he doesn’t mind hanging out with you when you’re Markie-sitting.
“I’m starving.” That’s JonPaul’s standard greeting. JonPaul is a jock, and it seems to me that he’s on every team except girls’ lacrosse, because he’s always coming from practice or going to a game. I don’t even know what season he’s in; I can’t keep track. “Let’s order a pizza.” He and Markie fist-bumped hello.
“Oh, uh … I’m a little short these days and …” I trailed off. JonPaul knew about my allowance penalty and how empty my pockets were.
“I got it,” he said, and called the delivery place on his cell. I heard him order a vegetarian low-fat-cheese whole-wheat-crust pie and didn’t feel so bad about not paying. JonPaul is a health nut and the food he eats is gross.
He’d been paying my way lately when we hung out and he never said a word about me being a mooch, but still, it hurt my pride.
“Hey,” JonPaul said after he and Markie had inhaled the pizza—I’d taken one look and made myself another banana with melted chocolate chips. “Did you hear that the new Death Rays of Mount Volupus IV game is coming out this week?”
I shrugged, trying to look like I didn’t care, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford it.
Markie and JonPaul started wrestling. Markie is small, even for a four-year-old, and JonPaul is ginormous because he’s a gym rat and a jock and he works out all the time. But it wasn’t even a close contest, because JonPaul is a little bit of a germaphobe. He pretended not to be bothered that Markie was all sticky and dirty with odds and ends of little-boy goo and snot, but he didn’t put up much of a fight. Markie pinned him in seconds. As soon as Markie started parading around the living room with his arms in the air while I clapped for him, JonPaul rushed to the kitchen sink to disinfect. This made him forget all about the computer game and my money situation.
But I didn’t forget. Every time I turned around, it seemed, I was reminded how crummy life can be when you don’t have spending money.
The final straw was the next day at school, when I saw a poster for a dance in a few weeks.
Not only did I want to go to that dance, I wanted to ask Tina Zabinski, the World’s Most Beautiful Girl, to go with me. She was absolutely perfect. Well, except for a small freckle underneath her right eye that I’d noticed the other day when the light hit her face just right as she walked to the bus after school. It was the freckle that made me think I might stand a chance with her. Not quite perfect was more in my ballpark than totally flawless.
Ever since I’d suddenly noticed how gorgeous Tina was and realized how
“Mommy said they can’t pay you or they’ll go bankrupt.”
Ah. Well. That figures.
Markie’s folks were paying for the house and an apartment—Markie stayed put in the family home and his mom and dad moved in and out according to their custody schedule.
I hoped to keep my job. Markie needed me. Or I needed him. I hadn’t figured that out yet. But there’s something really nice about spending time with a little kid. You learn so much.
“Bankrupt means they don’t have a lot of money right now,” I said. “It’s a grown-up thing, and you don’t have to worry. I’m going to keep coming over like always, even if they can’t pay.”
“Cool.”
Yeah, I thought, lack of money is the new in thing. “Hey, how about a banana dipped in melted chocolate chips?” He nodded and started peeling.
I am an excellent babysitter. Kids in my care get their three to five daily servings of fruit.
I shook some chocolate chips into a microwavesafe bowl and wondered: Why was the universe ganging up to make sure I didn’t have any money?
Whoever says youth is the best time in your life has cash in hand and can’t remember being poor.
My best friend, JonPaul, pounded on the door just as the microwave dinged. You know you’ve got a great friend when he doesn’t mind hanging out with you when you’re Markie-sitting.
“I’m starving.” That’s JonPaul’s standard greeting. JonPaul is a jock, and it seems to me that he’s on every team except girls’ lacrosse, because he’s always coming from practice or going to a game. I don’t even know what season he’s in; I can’t keep track. “Let’s order a pizza.” He and Markie fist-bumped hello.
“Oh, uh … I’m a little short these days and …” I trailed off. JonPaul knew about my allowance penalty and how empty my pockets were.
“I got it,” he said, and called the delivery place on his cell. I heard him order a vegetarian low-fat-cheese whole-wheat-crust pie and didn’t feel so bad about not paying. JonPaul is a health nut and the food he eats is gross.
He’d been paying my way lately when we hung out and he never said a word about me being a mooch, but still, it hurt my pride.
“Hey,” JonPaul said after he and Markie had inhaled the pizza—I’d taken one look and made myself another banana with melted chocolate chips. “Did you hear that the new Death Rays of Mount Volupus IV game is coming out this week?”
I shrugged, trying to look like I didn’t care, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford it.
Markie and JonPaul started wrestling. Markie is small, even for a four-year-old, and JonPaul is ginormous because he’s a gym rat and a jock and he works out all the time. But it wasn’t even a close contest, because JonPaul is a little bit of a germaphobe. He pretended not to be bothered that Markie was all sticky and dirty with odds and ends of little-boy goo and snot, but he didn’t put up much of a fight. Markie pinned him in seconds. As soon as Markie started parading around the living room with his arms in the air while I clapped for him, JonPaul rushed to the kitchen sink to disinfect. This made him forget all about the computer game and my money situation.
But I didn’t forget. Every time I turned around, it seemed, I was reminded how crummy life can be when you don’t have spending money.
The final straw was the next day at school, when I saw a poster for a dance in a few weeks.
Not only did I want to go to that dance, I wanted to ask Tina Zabinski, the World’s Most Beautiful Girl, to go with me. She was absolutely perfect. Well, except for a small freckle underneath her right eye that I’d noticed the other day when the light hit her face just right as she walked to the bus after school. It was the freckle that made me think I might stand a chance with her. Not quite perfect was more in my ballpark than totally flawless.
Ever since I’d suddenly noticed how gorgeous Tina was and realized how
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