Since it’s my day “off,” I stay in bed until lunchtime. I don’t get to sleep very late because my little sisters are extremely loud in everything they do, but as long as I don’t leave my room, they can’t annoy me too much. Once I venture out into the living room, I find Abuela working on a crochet blanket on the couch. Maria is playing on her phone next to Abuela, and Andrea and Pippa are screaming at each other in the kitchen.
“What’s going on with them?” I ask.
Abuela shrugs, her attention on her yarn work. “They’ve been at it all day.”
I don’t bother asking Maria, because at thirteen years old, she only cares about herself. I head to the kitchen and find my two youngest sisters in an all out war.
“You eat it!” Pippa says.
“I’m older, I don’t have to,” Andrea says.
“That’s not fair!”
“What are you arguing about?” I ask, raising my voice to be heard over their nonsense.
“I want the last pizza pocket!” Pippa squeals as if this is some life-altering decision. “I got it first, I want it!”
“I said she can have a PBJ sandwich instead,” Andrea says, lifting her chin as if to make herself seem taller. “She ate a pizza pocket last night and I didn’t, so I deserve it.”
I roll my eyes. “Both of you eat a PBJ and save the pizza pocket for later.”
“NO!” they both yell at once.
“Will you go buy more?” Andrea asks. “I’ll ride with you to the store.”
I sigh and glance at the fridge, where we have a dry-erase board that shows how much money we have left. “Thanks to your sister Maria, who spent all the money this month, we can’t go get anything else until Mom and Dad send us more money.”
If I had better luck, my sisters would listen to my explanation, understand, and quietly figure out who eats what. But no, my luck is awful. All they do is start yelling even more. As much as I feel obligated to stay here and fix their problem, I decide I’m not going to. Abuela can handle it.
I turn right around without grabbing anything to eat despite being hungry, and I go back to my room. But their constant bickering doesn’t end, even after they agree to eat a PBJ sandwich each and to split the last pizza pocket. I’m getting out of here.
I throw on some workout clothes, get my earbuds, queue up an upbeat music playlist and go outside. If my family won’t stop being annoying, I’ll just leave for a bit. I’m not much of a jogger, so I take a long meandering walk through the neighborhood, trying to enjoy being outside and soaking in all the sunshine and autumn air.
I am so tired. So, incredibly tired. Tired of my parents being gone, tired of my sisters being brats, tired of trying to win this competition. As embarrassing as it is to admit this to myself, I’m also tired of crushing on Mark. I’ve done a good job of avoiding him lately because just being in his presence makes my heart all warm and my knees all wobbly. I hate it. He’s just some hot rich kid who already has a nice car. He would never be interested in me, despite what he said that day in the storage closet. That was just him trying to mess with my head. And it totally worked.
I walk for an hour and I’m still not tired, so I keep walking. I’m trying so hard not to think about Mark, but just as this competition is always on my mind, so is the insufferably annoying and impossibly cute guy in third place.
Ugh.
I reach the end of a neighborhood and stand on the sidewalk that faces an intersection that leads into town. I could keep walking, just wander around aimlessly, but I’m also pretty hungry. I didn’t bring any money, not that I have any, and the only thing across this road are restaurants and fast food places that probably smell really good. I can’t walk past those. I’ll just go home and make a sandwich. I’m tired of PBJ as well. We’ve had them for lunch all week since it’s the only thing we had money in the budget for after my sister spent it all at the mall.
I turn around and notice a familiar silver car sitting at the stop sign. The window rolls down and Mark freaking Caputo smiles up at me. “What are the odds?” he says.
“This town isn’t that big,” I say. “So I guess the odds are pretty good that we’d run into each other.”
I start walking. The longer I stand here and see him, the faster my stupid heart beats. “Wait,” he calls out. And just like that, my feet stop. Stupid feet.
“You hungry?”
Starving, I think.But I just shrug.
“I was just headed to Caputo’s. You wanna come? The benefit of being the boss’ son means we get all the free food we want.”
Italian food sounds amazing, but I can’t just say yes. Can I?
I guess I take too long to say anything because Mark leans his head out the window and curls out his bottom lip. “Pleeease?”
Oh, my heart. It’s beating so fast. That puppy face he’s making could melt a glacier. I fold my arms over my chest. “Why would you want to eat lunch with me? I’m not exactly nice to you.”
