A Not-So-Simple Life (7 page)

But here’s the good news. I’ve earned $240 by now. I can’t believe it! Oh, sure, I don’t get paid until Friday, but I’m keeping careful track of my hours, and by Friday I should have made a total of $360. I realize that’s not much by some people’s standards, but for a girl who has to buy her own groceries, it’s pretty good. I plan to start seriously saving now. My goal is to have enough money put aside by my sixteenth birthday (December 12) to show that I can live on my own. The beginning of my emancipation proclamation.

Payday! Okay, the thrill quickly evaporated when I saw that my check wasn’t $360, like I’d anticipated. Fortunately, Em explained the concept of deductions. It seems that Uncle Sam needs my money—probably to do stupid things like buy guns and tanks. And then there are things like Social Security, like that will even exist by the time I need it, and
workmen’s comp, whatever that is. Anyway, it was a bit disheartening to realize that, unlike baby-sitting, you don’t actually make what you feel you earned. And minimum wage is just what it sounds like. Minimal. How could a person survive on it?

“They can’t,” Em explained as she steamed a blouse.

I know now that Em lives with three roommates, including her boyfriend, Vic. She started college but dropped out due to lack of interest combined with a lack of funds. But she, unlike me, has a genuine interest in the fashion industry, and that’s why she subjects herself to Vivian. Well, that and to pay the bills. She also informed me that after two years in this shop and after threatening to leave, she finally was put on commission, meaning she gets a tiny percentage of what she sells. “It helps out,” she told me.

I was tempted to tell Em a little more about myself and my emancipation plan, but I’m afraid to disclose too much. Thanks to Shannon and probably Vivian as well now, I have a bit of paranoia. I will play my cards close to my chest.

“Do you think I can get on commission too?” I asked eagerly. I was considering how I’d sold nearly a thousand dollars’ worth of clothes just that morning. Even a 5 percent cut would equal fifty bucks—not exactly chump change for a girl in my shoes (which were hurting my feet as usual).

“You can ask…” But even as Em said this, I could tell she was doubtful.

“Maybe after a while…”

During my lunch break I walked to the bank, the very same branch where Dad took me to open my own savings account about ten years ago. Sure, that account has only had about thirty dollars in it for the past several years, but that’s changing now. I considered hiding my cash in the house, but that’s backfired on me before. If Shannon’s in dire need of chemicals, it’s like she can actually sniff out money. Oh, I’ve been more fortunate since creating my attic getaway, but I don’t think I can be too careful when it comes to my mom.

My plan is to deposit $450 of every two-week paycheck for a total of $900 a month. That doesn’t leave me with much money for living expenses, but as long as Dad doesn’t get too far behind on child support, I should be just fine. Better than ever in fact. Since my first paycheck isn’t very big, I only put in $150. But it’s a start. According to my calculations (and I wonder if I should get some homeschool math credit for all this), I’ll have more than $5,500 by my birthday. Even more if I can deposit some money from Dad’s child-support payments.

“How much rent do you have to pay per month?” I asked Em this afternoon.

“Two hundred and fifty dollars,” she told me as she held up a silky dress and looked in the mirror.

“That’s not much,” I said hopefully.

“Well, that’s because Vic pays for part of my rent. You know, since he makes more money than I do.”

“Yeah, right…”

“I think I’m going to have to get this.” She hung the dress on the “hold” rack.

I tried not to look shocked as I glanced at the price tag. I’ve learned by now, first from Shannon and then from working here, that nothing is too expensive when it comes to style. Yeah, right. Even so, I couldn’t control myself, and knowing that Vivian was not in the building, I had to ask. “How can you afford that?” I held up the tag. “That’s more than your rent.”

Em just laughed. “It’s Tadashi,” she said, as if that explained it all.

“I know, but still.”

“And you know we have an employee discount, silly.”

I blinked. “Yeah, like 20 percent. That’s still about the same amount as you pay for a month’s rent.”

“Yes, but I can’t wear rent, now can I? And Vic is taking me to a corporate dinner where appearances are everything.” She looked slightly perplexed. “The real question is shoes.”

“Shoes?”

“Yes. I’m not sure I have the right ones for this dress.”

“What’s wrong with the ones you’re wearing?”

She laughed again. “Puhleeze.”

Just then the bell on the door tinkled, and I was relieved to go help a customer who hopefully could actually afford the clothes in here. In my opinion, a girl should never pay more than her rent for a dress she will probably wear only once. But what do I know?

As it turned out, the customers were teen girls about my age. And remembering Vivian’s wrath when the “dumpy redhead” stole the Fendi sandals, I was not letting these girls out of my sight either. They weren’t the same group as the shoplifters, and these girls looked like they could easily afford to shop here. Although I’ve only been observing fashion for a week or so, I recognized that they were wearing some pretty expensive threads. In fact these girls looked a lot like ones on The O.C. Yes, I’ll admit I used to watch that show back in middle school. Mostly due to peer pressure. I wouldn’t be caught dead watching anything like that now. I don’t care much for television in general. Unless it’s what I consider educational.

“I can’t believe Leo invited Capri to the party tomorrow night,” said a thin brunette as she held up a pale blue gauzy blouse. “I mean, after the way she treated Ambrose last week, you’d think that Leo wouldn’t want to subject his best friend to her anymore.”

“I agree completely,” said the blonde with her. “Seriously, Capri, of all people, really deserves to be shunned right now.”

The brunette laughed. “Just don’t let your brother hear you saying that. I think Leo’s still got a crush on her.”

“I’ve been keeping my thoughts to myself.” The blonde nodded approval now. “You really should try that blouse on, Jenna.”

The brunette held it up in front of her friend. “No, I think it’s more you than me, Miranda.”

Just then the blonde turned and stared at me like she thought I was eavesdropping or something.

“Uh, can I help you guys find anything?” I offered quickly, feeling less than invisible, not to mention intrusive. The truth was, I had been eavesdropping. I don’t even know why. Maybe I just miss talking to girls my own age.

“You work here?” demanded the brunette in a challenging way.

I nodded. “That’s why I asked if you needed help.” Then I smiled at the blonde. “I think your friend is right. That top would look fantastic on you. It really goes with your eyes.”

Now the blonde smiled slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” her friend said, “it does.”

And for a few minutes it was like these two girls, Jenna and Miranda, were actually my friends. Okay, not really. Maybe I was just imagining or pretending, but as I helped them pick out some things for Saturday night’s party, I almost felt like I was one of them, like I was going to the party too. They finished shopping, and I rang them up on their credit
cards, which I assume are paid by their parents. Then they thanked me for helping them and happily told me good-bye, and I felt sorry to see them go. That’s when I realized just how pathetic and lame I really am.

And now it’s Friday night, and I am home alone. Shannon swore to me that she was only going out for a few hours. But I don’t expect to see her for a few days. It occurs to me that I could start up some kind of social life for myself…but I wonder who that would be with. Despite being drawn in with Miranda and Jenna today, I usually feel out of place with people my own age. Quite honestly, I get bored with their shallow values. And it’s awkward hanging with people who are older, because they usually act weird when they discover how young I am. Maybe I’m destined to be a misfit forever.

Okay, now I’m trying to come up with a green tip, and yet I feel like a hypocrite because I still can’t believe I’m being paid to sell overpriced clothes. That feels so wrong in so many ways. And yet a girl has to make a living. But that gives me a green tip idea. Because although I’ve been sneaking things from Shannon’s closet lately (my own form of recycling), my favorite way to shop for fashions is at the secondhand store—and that is very green.

I
t’s my day off, and I’m as bored as a gourd. Speaking of gourds, my garden is coming along nicely. I harvested numerous things, including cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce, basil, and some baby carrots. I spent a couple of pleasant hours just weeding and watering and working on my compost this morning before it got too hot. It’s also wise to water in the morning, because that’s the best way to conserve water (it doesn’t evaporate so quickly), and the plants seem to like it better too. I guess I should make a green tip about that someday.

Anyway, to my complete surprise, Shannon actually made it home last night. Although I’m certain she was totally wasted because I heard her stumbling up the stairs on her way to her room. I considered offering some help but figured it served her right if she fell and broke her leg. Plus that might keep her at home. She eventually made it up, and when her bedroom door slammed, 1 went back to sleep. As usual, she’s sleeping in. And I sort of enjoy having the house to myself in the mornings.

I felt at loose ends. I straightened up the kitchen some and even sat and watched some public television, about the only worthwhile thing we get these days since Shannon hasn’t paid the cable bill in months. Not that I care. But the constant phone calls do bug me. I’m actually surprised that our land-line is still working. I don’t think Shannon has paid that lately either. But most of our calls are from grumpy collections people, and we just let them go straight to the machine. Occasionally someone will come to the door, but Shannon has made it clear that I’m not to answer the door unless we know the person. So mostly I ignore that too.

But this morning when someone knocked, I took a peek at the security monitor—a system my dad had set up for us back when he was worried about stalkers. Anyway, I was only looking out of curiosity…and boredom, I suppose. But the guy standing there was probably from a collection agency, so no way was I opening the door. Yet, as I stood there looking at the camera, I found myself wishing it were one of my old friends just stopping by to say hey. That used to happen. But not anymore. And then I actually considered calling up my old best friend, Ashlee. But I know she’s so moved on by now. She probably wouldn’t even remember who I am. Sometimes I have difficulty remembering myself.

Finally, around noon, Shannon crawled out. I could tell by her puffy face and bloodshot eyes that she’d been
drinking. But she seemed slightly proud of herself for finding her way home. And she was grouchy.

“Where’s the coffee?” she demanded.

“I didn’t make any.” I filled a water bottle, getting ready to make a quick exit.

“Why not?”

“I wanted tea.” I made my way to the door.

“Are you going to work now?” She obviously hadn’t really looked at me since my overalls, T-shirt, and flip-flops should’ve given the answer.

“No.”

“Hey, baby,” she said in her I-need-something voice, “do you have any money?”

“Not really,” I lied.

She scowled. “Nothing?”

“A few bucks.”

“Don’t they pay you at that chichi shop?”

I just shrugged. “I can loan you a few bucks until Dad’s check gets here, Shannon.” Loan, yeah right. Like she’ll ever pay me back.

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

So I went and got into my secret cash stash and pulled out a twenty. A twenty I will never see again. Okay, maybe Shannon is my way of giving to charity. Whatever.

Then I hopped on my bike and rode over to Beverly Gardens Park. It’s not a big park, but I remember Dad bringing
me here as a little girl…and for that reason I still like to come here sometimes. Today I’m sitting by the lily pond, doodling and writing in my journal. I know I must look lonely. I stopped by the Hunter and Hounds statue. It’s kind of a memorial to a soldier in World War I. But as I look at the dogs, I think maybe that’s what I need. A dog to keep me company. Oh sure, Shannon would have a fit. Other times when I’ve raised the dog subject, she’s always said that she couldn’t afford to keep a dog. Well, the truth is, she can’t afford to keep a daughter either. If I got a dog, it would be completely mine. And I would take care of everything it needed. Still, I’m not sure how much that would cost. I’ve heard that vet bills can be expensive, and I’m not sure how I’d feel about buying dog food since it’s primarily meat. I guess I might have to think about that.

Mostly I think I’d like a friend. But not just any friend. I’ve had friends in the past who have hurt me. I think the next time I make friends, serious friends, I’ll be very selective. Okay, that makes me laugh. Well, almost. I mean, here I am sitting by myself in a park where only old people walk, and I am feeling lonely and acting like I can be so choosy about a friend. Maybe I need to lower my standards. After all, I certainly lowered them when it came to employment. If you ask me, selling costly designer clothes is only a notch above selling red meat. Who woulda thunk?