I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. My parents have been denying me a car for months now because they can’t afford it. But it’s not like I’m asking for everything free. I’m happy to work and pay my way. But I can’t work without transportation.
“Why do you even need a car?” Mom says as she smiles brightly into the phone. I’m pretty sure it’s a fake smile meant to make me feel better. “Jules has a car and Abuela lets you borrow hers on occasion. It’s not like you’re totally stuck at home.”
I want to explain all the reasons I need a car, but I’m also exhausted. And it won’t matter anyway. Mom just doesn’t get it. Sure, Jules can drive me to school each day, and Abuela sometimes lets me borrow her car to go out on the weekends, but it’s not the same. Having my own car and my own job would mean freedom. And privacy. It’s not just about the money. A job would give me somewhere to go after school that’s away from my annoying sisters and a car would provide somewhere to hide out when my sisters are driving me crazy. And who knows, I might just meet a cute guy at a part time job and live the flirty, romantic teenage life like everyone does in TV shows.
With a sigh, I try not fret too much about it. There is really no point in daydreaming about things that will never happen.
Two
MARK
I’m right in the middle of an amazing dream involving a beach house and a beautiful girl when my stupid brother wakes me up by throwing a pillow at my head. “Mark! Dude! Get up!”
I can tell by the tone of his voice that this isn’t some emergency and that he’s just being his usual annoying self, so I don’t open my eyes. I roll over and pull the blankets up over my head. “Go away.”
“Get up, dude. It’s Monday.”
“All the more reason for you to leave me alone until my alarm goes off,” I mutter.
“Mark, I need you to cover for me.”
I push down the blanket and roll over and look at him. Julian is twenty-two years old and he dropped out of college after his first semester. Since then, he’s been working full time at my parents’ restaurant, Caputo’s. He’s a bit of a Jack-of-all-trades at the restaurant. He works the grill, waits tables, mops floors, and greets guests. Whatever needs to be done, he does it. And he’s good at it. I also work there, but I’m not exactly in love with my job. Unlike Julian. I don’t want to take over the family business when I grow up. I want to be an accountant and work in an office that doesn’t smell like garlic.
“I’ll head over there after school,” I say with a yawn. I glance over at my phone. It’s only five minutes until my morning alarm would have gone off anyway. Time to get ready for school.
“Nah, man I need you there now. I have a date planned with this girl I met online.” My brother wiggles his dark eyebrows at me. “She’s hot. Super hot. Like, a ten.”
“And you’re going on a date with her at seven in the morning?”
He stares at me like I’m stupid. “She lives three hours away. I’m picking her up and we’re going to a music festival. It’s this indie rock music that’s total trash, but she likes it, and I like her so I’m going.”
I stand up and stretch out my arms, then grab a T-shirt from the clean laundry basket near my bed and tug it on. “I’m not skipping school so you can meet some girl from a dating app.”
“Dude, seriously?” Julian says. “Just skip school and help me out.”
I head into my closet and find a pair of jeans. “Unlike you, I plan to go to college,” I say. “I’m not skipping. Plus, I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad wouldn’t approve.”
“Missing one day of class isn’t gonna flunk you out of high school,” Julian says, his nostrils flaring. He grabs the pillow off my bed and flings it at me while I put on my shoes. “You’re being a total jerk right now."
Maybe if my brother had stayed in school he’d know the definition of irony, because all I see is one jerk here, and it’s him. He storms out of my room, muttering under his breath, and I continue getting ready for school. I brush my teeth and spritz on some cologne and fix my hair in the bathroom mirror. Last year I had this shaggy kind of lazy hairstyle going, but this year I cut it shorter. I figured it was a new school year and all, so I might as well go in with a new look. I run my fingers through my black hair, getting it into place, then I head downstairs.
My parents are in the kitchen arguing. As usual. They don’t fight hardcore or anything—it’s not like how it was when Bryson Jacobs’ parents went crazy and got divorced last year. My parents have been married twenty five years and they’re not splitting up any time soon. They just like to argue and complain and it’s pointless because it’s not like one of them is right and the other is wrong. Both of my parents are in the wrong here. Their arguments are always about the same thing. Money.
Caputo’s Italian Grill is a pretty successful local restaurant. My grandfather built it and then my dad took it over right after I was born. We sell delicious Italian food that everyone loves, and we’ve even been featured on two Best of Texas TV shows. The thing is, my parents spend every dollar they earn before they earn it. We live in a nice house and we have nice things and Dad once told me that if we looked poor then people would assume our food isn’t good and then customers would stop coming to the restaurant.
I didn’t believe it back then, and I don’t believe it now. My parents just want to be rich. Like those creepy spoiled people on reality TV shows my mom loves so much, my parents are obsessed with their image. They never step out into public looking like they rolled out of bed. Nope. My dad wears tailored suits everywhere and Mom always looks like she’s about to go to a fancy party. When I was a kid, I thought it was so cool that we were rich.
Now that I’m old enough to know better, I just can’t wait to move out, go to college, and live on my own. I’m going to be an accountant for two reasons. One, accountants make a ton of money. And two, if I make a ton of money I’ll never have to be like my parents. I’ll be secure and happy.
I don’t bother saying hello to my parents because they’re still arguing loudly over their morning coffee. Mom stands near the sink, one hand on her hip and the other gripping her coffee cup. Dad is sitting at the kitchen island eating a bowl of cereal. Mom’s pale skin and strawberry blonde hair is a stark contrast to Dad, Julian, and me. We both inherited Dad’s strong Italian genes, and none of Mom’s Irish looks.
“I just don’t know how we’re going to afford this,” she says, shaking her head before taking another sip of coffee. Ten thousand dollars for a stupid roof? Ugh.”
“What roof?” I say, curiosity getting the better of me.
Both of my parents look at me as if they only just now realized I’m in the room. Dad sighs. “The roof needs replacing. That hailstorm a few months back totally ruined it. Even with our insurance, it’s going to be a ten grand deductible.”
“Why don’t we sell my car?” I offer. “I can take the bus or get a ride from a friend.”
