“Easy. You showed me about variables last year, remember?”
So, not the homework then. Maybe it’s Marie’s friends? I set the pot on the stove to boil and get out the ingredients for the sauce. A 28 ounce can of crushed tomato, a 15 ounce can of diced tomato, garlic, red pepper flakes, basil, and sugar. That’s all it takes to make a quick spaghetti sauce. Simple, but the best things in life usually are.
I heat a little oil in a pan and put the chopped garlic and red pepper flakes into it for about thirty seconds. No more than that though. I remember once when I got distracted, I let the red pepper flakes cook too long, and they burnt. The smoke from the burning red pepper flakes turned into some tear-inducing chemical weapon, and everyone had to leave the house because they couldn’t breathe. It took hours to clear the air in the room enough for us to go back inside.
Once the thirty seconds pass, I drop in the crushed and diced tomatoes into the pan. Once the mixture starts to get hot enough for little air volcanoes to show up, I reduce the heat on the sauce and let it simmer. I know I have ten minutes until the water starts to boil and I have to put the pasta in it. So, I sit down at the table next to Marie and ask, “So, you want to talk about what’s bothering you or you going to make me guess?”
She puts down the pencil in her hand on top of the piece of paper she’s writing on and looks at me. She tilts her head and purses her lips as if she’s deciding something then answers, “Fine. You want to know what’s bothering me?”
Uh oh. Suddenly, I don’t want to know, but I can’t back out now. I would lose all big brother cred. So, I nod.
She makes a tsk sound and raises her eyebrows before continuing, “Ok. I started my period today, but Mom forgot to buy me a box of pads. I was able to get one from Becky, but that wasn’t until the third period. So, I had some leakage and had to wear a sweater I took from lost and found around my waist all day because it stained my pants. Then stupid Suzy Appleton tried to pick a fight with me because her boyfriend was talking to me. She called me a homewrecker as if she was married to him or something. It’s not my fault he thinks that I’m more interesting than Suzy. Anyway, she started spreading rumors that I was trying to steal her man. So all the other girls gave me the cold shoulder until Becky told them that Suzy was a lying bitch who couldn’t keep her man happy if all he wanted was a can of soda. So, Suzy tried to hit Becky after school, which meant that I had to beat Suzy down, which meant that I got in trouble for fighting at school today and have to bring Mom into school tomorrow to talk to the principal. That’s how my day at school was!”
By the end of the one breath tirade, Marie is practically screaming and hyperventilating. I have no idea what to say to her, so I just wrap my arms around her and hug her. I can hear little sobs as she hugs me back.
“Don’t worry, kid. I don’t have class until the afternoon tomorrow, and I’ll meet with your principal. I can pick up some pads from the store, and we can work out what to do about Suzy together. Though you probably shouldn’t have hit her.”
I hear Marie sniff and mumble “Ok.”
The sound of the water boiling over interrupts the moment and I hear Marie say with a little laugh, “Go take care of that. I don’t want to have to evacuate the house again because of a spaghetti preparation mishap.”
I laugh at the joke and ruffle her hair as I get up. I walk to the kitchen and lower the heat on the water, then add a box of spaghetti noodles. I add a little salt to the water for a touch of flavor. Then I stir the sauce a little before sitting back at the table. It’ll be ten more minutes before the pasta is done and by that time the sauce should have had enough time to come together.
The house phone rings before I’m able to sit back down and talk to my sister again. Now before you start laughing too much, yes we still have a landline. My mom is just not good with technology, and the phone company practically gives the service away for free since almost nobody uses it anymore. Anyways, I pick up the landline and hear the sound of my boss, Mr. Smith’s voice, “Hello. Anthony, is that you?”
“Yeah, Mr. Smith, it’s me. What’s up?”
“Oh right on, man. I wasn’t sure if something had happened. I tried calling your cell phone number, but no one answered. Anyhow, I was wondering if you could work tonight? Eddie called in sick, and I need someone to man the store tonight. And before you start getting all dramatic, I know you’re not supposed to work tonight, but I need you, buddy.”
I glance over at Marie, who’s watching me, and I think of how expensive her school is, all the bills we have, and my college tuition, and say into the handset, “Ok, Mr. Smith. We could use the extra money anyway. I’ll be there in a bit. I have to finish making dinner for my sister.”
My boss thanks me profusely, and I hang up the phone.
Marie gives me an annoyed look, realizing that I’ll be leaving her home alone tonight. I just shrug and tell her, “Sorry. I have to go to work. We can still have dinner together though.”
I finish making the pasta, and the two of us eat silently at the table. I put the leftovers in the fridge and wash the dishes before cleaning myself up and changing into my work clothes. I say goodbye to my little sister, but before I leave, I promise tomorrow I'll talk to Marie’s principal. Then I’m off to work at the convenience store down the street.
Chapter 8
It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the Quickie Stop Mart, one of the last convenience stores in town. Most of the others either closed down or were bought out by the big chain stores. How Mr. Smith keeps the store open, I’ll never know. Still, it’s good to be able to work close to home.
As I push the glass door to the convenience store open, I hear the door chime and remember when I started to work here. I was twelve years old and just bored out of my mind during the summer. After watching some kid’s movie where they robbed a bank, I had the brilliant idea of shoplifting from the Quickie Stop Mart. We couldn’t afford to buy a lot of junk food, so I thought I’d just give myself a five-fingered discount on some candy bars.
As soon as I pushed the glass doors forward and heard a ringing sound, I thought I’d already been caught. When no one said anything, I realized it was just the chimes on the front door. Little mastermind that I was, I figured I’d wear a big bulky sweater, and I’d be able to hide the candy underneath and just walk out the door. I, of course, was caught the moment I tried to sneak out the door. I guess wearing a big red wool sweater in the middle of the summer was a big giveaway that I was up to no good.
However, instead of turning me over to the cops, Mr. Smith had me work off the cost of the candy I wanted. I came by every day for an hour to clean the store’s toilets, sweep the store, and clean the display cases. At the end of the week, he gave me all the candy I’d tried to steal and a ten-dollar bill. Mr. Smith said if I needed work, the toilets would always be waiting for me. I left a pretty happy camper.
All that summer I cleaned the store whenever I wanted stuff my mom couldn’t afford to buy. Junk food mostly, occasionally a comic or a toy. When school started back up, I could only go on weekends, and instead of buying stuff, I began to save up for big-ticket items like video game consoles and birthday presents for Marie or my mom. When I was fifteen, Mom lost one of her jobs, and we used up my little savings pretty quickly. Now instead of buying junk food, I bought milk and bread with the money I earned on the weekend. Mr. Smith noticed the change and offered me more hours, which eventually turned into a part-time job. Mom eventually got another second job but with the money from my work things were always a little easier. So I kept the job.
My jaunt down memory lane was interrupted by Mr. Smith’s voice, “Anthony, there you are.”