Another sigh. “Just anything you can spare.”
I stare into the storefront of Magic Mark’s as I talk on the phone. Inside, Pete, my boss, is running around like a crazy person. He usually spends his shifts sitting on his ass while the teenage employees do all the work, but Jayson’s mom is in the hospital and our other pizza maker, Zoey, just came down with mono.
They could really use me tomorrow, and it would give me more money to help out my family. But working tomorrow would mean I’d have to cancel my plans with Clarissa.
“I have about a hundred dollars right now,” I say. “And then I get paid on Friday. Is Dad already looking for another job?”
“Yes,” she says softly. “You know how he is.”
Dad is a pathetic drunk, but he’s also a good worker. He’s been fired or laid off a few times in life, but he’s always found another job right away. Lately, his drinking has been worse than ever, but I have to believe that he’ll find his way back.
“We’ll be fine, Mom. He’ll get a new job.”
“I know,” she says, and her voice cracks. I press my ear to the phone and I can hear her crying. The sound breaks my heart. I can’t remember the last time I saw my mom cry, or if I ever have seen he cry.
“We’re not going to make the mortgage payment,” she says, still sobbing. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“It’s okay,” I say, but even I don’t have much faith in my words. “Don’t they take like three months of missed payments before they start to foreclose on you?”
I hate that I know this fact about mortgages, but I do.
“Yes, Gavin. But this will be our third late payment.”
My stomach clenches. Shit. Things are worse than I thought. As a kid, my parents would argue about money, but then my dad would pull through and get some great job and we’d be fine again. I never really worried about it, but now I’m a few months away from being eighteen and it’s all I can worry about. I don’t want to hear my mom cry anymore. I don’t want my dad to drink himself stupid every night because he’s stressed about not having enough money.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I can make a difference. “Mom, it’ll be fine. I’m working extra shifts and I’ll have more money. It’s all yours.”
“Gavin, I can’t ask you to do that,” she says, her voice still broken up from crying.
“You’re not asking,” I say, knowing this decision won’t win me any favors from Clarissa. “I’m insisting.”
*
I wait until the next day at school to tell Clarissa the bad news. She walks into homeroom right before the bell rings, which is her new routine. I tap her on the shoulder.
“Bad news,” I say.
She turns around, one eyebrow lifted. I’m surprised how much I don’t want to tell her something disappointing. I had thought about texting her instead, but this way is better.
“I’m really sorry, but I got called into work tonight.”
She just stares at me, as if she’s waiting for me to continue. She’s going to make me tell her in detail that I’m cancelling our plans. I swallow. “It’s one of those situations where I can’t get out of it. Can we start the greenhouse next week?”
“What day next week?” she asks after a nerve-racking few seconds of silence.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I don’t know the schedule yet.”
“Tell me when you do.” She turns back around, leaving me feeling like shit. I wish I could tell her that I’m working to save my family and if that weren’t the case, I’d be there in a heartbeat. I’d never bail on her if I had any other choice. But my old soccer friends are in the next row over, just waiting to hear me say something they can mock, and the teacher is walking to the front of the class, and there’s just no time. I’ll explain everything to her later.
And that’s what I keep telling myself as I’m forced to bail on her for the next three weeks.
