Chapter 8

I am fourteen years old that summer before high school. May and I worked every day this summer, so we not only have saved up the money for the first school year but also a little bit of pocket money to have some fun the last week before school starts. Tomorrow is our last day at the parlor and despite the getting up early I am really gonna miss being here. I mean after all we get to eat free icecream and get paid for it. At least that is how May likes to describe our job. “You’re going to owe me ten bucks”, May giggles. “What no way, I thought I was winning”, I say whilst dramatically grabbing our list. “Not after today, you are not”, she proclaims victoriously. Damn, she was right. We made a bet at the beginning of the year guessing what the most eaten icecream flavor would be. I went with Chocolate, May with Strawberry. As of last week I was clearly winning, but now she is in front of me by ten scoops. That’s going to be hard to beat tomorrow. “I think you tampered with the list. There is no way more people like Strawberry than Chocolate”, I say in an unserious voice. “I think you are just a sore loser”, May says and starts laughing. We joke around until the next costumer comes. When I leave my shift, May is only winning by nine. I run home, so I don’t miss tonight’s episode of Friends. I watch it every week. When I get to my house, I notice a yellow letter clammed into the door frame. It’s addressed to Dad, but I don’t think he is home or conscious, so I open it. At first, I don’t understand what it is. Maybe one of them tax letters, parents get all the time, but as I continue to read I notice it is a letter of eviction. It says the rent of the last two months has not been paid, and we have five more days, though they would recommend to pay as soon as possible, or we get evicted. Shit. I skim down to the bottom of the letter to look at the sum. 1120 dollars. I want to start crying, but I compose myself and start looking for my Dad. I mean surely he has the money, just forgot to deposit it. I find him laying stretched out on the couch next to my pink pillow in a position that can not possibly be comfortable. I shout “Dad” and when he doesn’t respond I start pushing him. I don’t care if he is tired, this is important. After a few minutes he kind of opens his eyes. “Dad where is the money for the rent”, I say as calmly as I can. He stares at me for a second as if deciding wether or not this is of enough importance to stay awake. I guess he decided it is not, because he closed his eyes and rolled over whilst mumbling “What money ? I don’t have any money for rent”. Tears start rolling down my face. “What do you mean what money?” and “You do, you do have the money.You do. You have to” I shout, but he doesn’t respond anymore.