"I hate you, Taylor Hebert," I said, packing as much venom into the five words as possible. It wasn't much—it's hard to muster up hatred when summer vacation is about to start. I glanced at Emma and saw her nod almost imperceptibly. I shot her a brief grin and ran to Winslow's main entrance. It was time to put Taylor Hebert and Winslow out of my mind forever, or at least until September.
Julia was waiting out front. She lived a few doors down from me, so we'd walked home together most days since middle school. We had been in the same class since the third grade, but neither one of us had realized we lived so close to each other until the seventh.
Talking to Julia was a balancing act. I wasn't as boy-crazy as she was, so I never had anything to contribute when the subject inevitably turned to whichever random beefcake had caught Julia's eye that day. On the other hand, she could be counted on to provide more than her fair share of laughs, as long as I could keep her mind from wandering too far. I wasn't feeling up to reigning her in, so I resigned myself to 10 minutes of boy talk and forced smiles.
"So what are you doing over the summer?" asked Julia. She was bouncing way too much for somebody just wanting to know what her friend's plans are. Hell, she was probably bouncing way too much for anyone.
"Um—"
"I'm going to stay at my aunt's house in LA. She's going to Hawaii, so I'm going to housesit for her."
"Alone?" I asked.
"Huh?"
"Will you be all by yourself?" Julia had only just turned 15; the thought of her being alone in a strange city made my stomach clench.
"No, I'll be babysitting my mom, too. Anyway, remember that guy I told you about? The one who won me that stuffed panda when I went to Santa Monica?"
"Not r—"
"I've been talking to him online, and I think we're maybe sort of dating?" She furrowed her brow. "No, we're definitely dating."
"I hope he knows that," I muttered.
"What was that?"
"I said 'I hope he knows that.'" Oh god, why did I repeat myself?
Julia laughed and bumped my hip. "You're such a bitch, Maddie. Anyway, we're going to meet up while I'm in California."
"Are you sure it's safe? What if he's really Heartbreaker or something?"
"California is nowhere near Quebec. God, you sound like my mom. Well if you hate my summer plans so much, what are you doing?"
What was I doing? Or, more accurately, what could I tell her I would be doing? I was going to have my very first job over the summer, but I was terrified of messing up and embarrassing myself, so I hadn't told any of my friends about it. What's a plausible lie?
"Making sure Allie is ready for middle school. What kind of big sister would I be if I left her to the wolves?"
"Mine. Can you believe Kennedy didn't want anything to do with me this year? Unbelievable."
"Julia, Kennedy is in college."
Julia harrumphed. "You always take her side."
We chatted some more before we reached my house. I hugged her goodbye for the summer and promised that I wouldn't become a recluse. I walked in through the front door and took my shoes off, placing my flats next to Allie's haphazardly thrown sneakers.
"I'm home!" I said.
"About time!" came my sister's response. "Come here, Maddie; I need your help."
I went into the den and flopped onto the couch beside her. "What do you want?"
"I'm stuck on this star," said Allison. We were playing through Mario 64 together. The villains Über and Leet had started to record and upload their capers online. Allie and I had become fans of the show; sure, they were little more than 8-bit crooks, but it was hard not to root for them when their plans blew up in their faces. Dad had seen us watching and pulled out his old Nintendo 64, so we would get their references.
We took turns controlling Mario, trading whenever one of us died or got a star. After an hour of play, Mom came in and told me I had a phone call. I took the phone into my bedroom, wondering who I knew that wouldn't just call my cell.
"Hello," I said.
"Hello, is that Madison? This is Miriam Goldstein from the Busy Bee. You were scheduled to start work here on Monday?"
"Is there a problem?" I wondered if it was possible to be fired from a job before you had even started.
"No. Well, yes, but not with you. I was wondering if you could come in Sunday instead?"
"Of course," I answered automatically. "What time do you need me?"
"Be here at 11:45. I need to go over a few things with you before you start your shift."
"I'll be there with bells on."
"Clothes will suffice. Goodbye, Miss Clements."
I ran downstairs to put the phone in its dock. Mom scolded me for running indoors.
"Sorry, Mom." I began to walk away, then stopped and turned to face Mom. "That was Mrs. Goldstein. She asked if I could start Sunday instead of next week." I took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. "Canyougivemealifttowork?"
Mom cocked an eyebrow. "You want to run that one by me again? Slower this time," she said.
"Can you give me a lift to work?"
She stared me dead in the eyes without blinking for at least thirty seconds. Luckily for me, that just makes it easier to give her puppy dog eyes. Finally, she sighed. "What time do you start?"
My face broke into a grin. "Mrs. Goldstein told me to be there at 11:45."
Mom turned her attention back to the stove. "I should really make you ride your bike."
"Yeah, but you won't because I'm your favorite."
"Hey!" Allie had wandered into the kitchen in time to hear me. "I thought I was your favorite," she said as she looked through the fridge.
"Allison June Clements, don't even think about eating. Dinner will be ready soon, and I don't want you to ruin your appetite." Allie closed the fridge and pressed her back against it. Mom had an uncanny ability to sense when one of us was going to 'spoil our appetite.' We had a theory that she was a cape. "Neither one of you is my favorite."
"You mean you hate both of us?" I said with mock horror.
"Do you really want me to answer that?" asked Mom.
"Well, maybe just say if you hate Allie." Allie cried out in indignation. I ruffled her hair. "I didn't say I hated you, Alleycat. I'm much more reasonable than Mom."
"I guess that means I'm not driving you to work Sunday, seeing as how I'm so unreasonable." This time, the cry of indignation was my own. Mom laughed. "Don't worry, Madison. I'll still give you a lift, but you have to clean the car tomorrow. Does that sound reasonable to you, Allie?"
"Very," said my traitorous sister. Two can play at that game.
"That sounds like a two-woman job. Can I get Allie to help?"
"That's fine with me," said Mom.
"Great," I said, then ran off before Allie could object. I needed to prepare my outfit for Sunday.
###
Ten minutes. I had been sitting in the car waiting for Mom for ten minutes. If we were somewhere other than Maine, I could have died in ten minutes. Fortunately, the only thing I stood to die from was boredom; there was only so many times I could adjust my hairpins without it sending me insane.
"Maybe they'll call me 'Mad Mad,'" I said to nobody. I almost jumped out of my skin when nobody answered.
"Talking to yourself, Mad Mad? I guess the name fits," said Mom.
"Jesus, Mom, you almost gave me a heart attack."
"Are you ready to go?" asked Mom. I stared incredulously at Mom. "Relax, I was joking." I continued to stare until she started the car. "Nervous about your first day?"
"I can do this," I said, as much to myself as to Mom.
"Of course you can, sweetie. I believe in you, and I'm sure your friends do, too."
"I'm sure they don't. They'd have to know about it, first, and I haven't told them."
"Why not?"
"What if I mess up?" I mumbled into my hands. Mom made a show of cupping her ear, and I sighed. "What if I mess up?" I repeated, louder this time. "I've never had a job before; what if I make a huge mistake and ruin Mrs. Goldstein's bakery? It's a bakery, Mom; I could literally end up with egg on my face."
"I'm sure your friends would be supportive."
"Maybe things were different when you went to high school, back when everyone was more concerned about the British burning down the White House, but these days, if the sharks smell blood in the water, they'll bite. No remorse, stone-cold killers."
"And these girls are your friends?"
"They're still vultures."
"I thought they were sharks," said Mom. "Don't use two metaphors; it's bad writing."
"They're flying robot sharks that shoot lasers. It doesn't matter!"
Mom reached over and rubbed my back. "Relax, honey. If you don't want to tell your friends, you don't have to," she said as we pulled up to the Busy Bee. "Madison, look at me." I turned to face her. "I'm proud of you. I'm sure you'll do great, but even if you do mess up, I'll still be proud of you."
I leaned over and wrapped Mom in the biggest hug I'd ever given. "Thanks, Mom," I whispered in her ear. Breaking our embrace, I climbed out of the car. My reflection stared out at me from the bakery's plate glass window. We gave each other a quick once-over and nodded approvingly. I was wearing a cobalt blue skirt with a ring of tulips circling the bottom and a turquoise blouse. The blouse was thanks to Emma. Her plans with Sophia had been scuffed by some emergency track meeting, so she dragged me down to the boardwalk to watch her model outfit after outfit. I didn't really mind; she was a naturally talented model, and she somehow made staring at her for hours incredibly engaging. It was during Emma's impromptu fashion show that I saw the blouse and promptly fell in love with it. Emma had discarded it for not complimenting her more generous figure, but it looked great on me.
I shook my head and entered my new workplace. Mrs. Goldstein, a middle-aged woman with straw-colored hair in tight curls, was serving a customer, so I waited for her to finish while looking at a display filled with a bewildering array of tarts. She put the customer's order in a box and sent him on his way.
"Mrs. Goldstein?" I said, hating myself for the questioning tone. I already knew who she was; we had met when I handed in my application.
"You're here," said Mrs. Goldstein. She had a matter-of-fact way of speaking that made gauging her thoughts difficult. "Come into my office."
Mrs. Goldstein went over my various duties as a Busy Bee worker. I immediately noticed a common theme: washing dishes, mopping floors, taking out the trash… At least ninety percent of my job would consist of cleaning. If the demand overwhelmed whoever was working the register, I could help out with the customers, but most of the time, I'd be stuck doing the least glamorous jobs.
Mrs. Goldstein left me to sign a few papers while she handled some problem in the kitchen. When she hadn't returned after five minutes, I decided to look for her. I walked into the kitchen and came face-to-face with the last person I was expecting.
"Taylor? What the hell are you doing here?"
AN: This is the first "flashback" chapter. Going forward, the story will alternate between future and past chapters.