“Har-veeeey!” the lady screeches. “What is going on here!”
Uncle Harvey rushes over. “Oh, my love, are you okay?” I’m guessing she is Mrs. Harvey. Ivy is apologizing profusely as she picks petals out of the lady’s hair. All the while, the alarm is still beep … beep … beeping — LOUDLY.
Suddenly, it dawns on me that no one is paying attention to me at all, so I whip the hat off my head and chuck it back into the store where it conveniently lands on a mannequin’s outstretched hand. The beeping stops and I hold my breath.
“Harvey!” I hear the lady yell angrily. “It’s happened again! Another false alarm! This is getting out of control!”
Ivy picks a petal out of her hair, looks around suspiciously, and nods in agreement with her aunt. “We really have to get that checked, Uncle Harvey,” she says.
Phew! I’m off the hook.
You’d think I’d be feeling on top of the world right now, right? I mean I just dodged getting caught “shoplifting” by the worst person ever — Ivy — who would have, without a doubt, made sure I was pegged as a law-breaking low-life felon for the rest of my days. Now don’t get me wrong, I really do appreciate that I got off super lucky, but I still have to face the fact that I only have a hundred bucks in my bank account, when I need, like, a kazillion more. Why do my problems always involve money?
8
Pizza with Cucumbers
School was pretty tame today. Chloe wasn’t there, so without her partner in crime, Ivy left me alone the entire day — a happy surprise, to say the least. So, aside from the fact that Gabby talked nonstop all day about our upcoming shopping spree (which I know won’t happen because of an extreme shortage of cash), it was a pretty good day. Especially in the computer lab, where I created an amazingly perfect babysitting ad that I’m positive is going to get me tons of jobs in no time flat!
Hannah Smart’s Quality Babysitting Service
Stuck without a babysitter? Well, not for long!
I am a motivated, dependable, nurturing, fun-loving, encouraging, energetic, and prompt child-care provider who is fully trained and certified in Advanced First Aid and CPR. If you are looking for quality care for your children, then look no further! You can count on me for all of your babysitting needs. I am available most days after 3:30 and most evenings until 9:00. (Much longer on the weekends.)
Your children deserve the best!
That’s me: Hannah Smart!
So, don’t hesitate! Message me now to avoid disappointment at:
[email protected]
I can’t wait to put this ad up at Dad’s office! Almost everyone he works with has kids. If they need a sitter, they can just call me!
I haven’t really sat down and figured it out yet, but I’m hoping that if I babysit every day after school, some nights and most weekends, combined with my allowance and what I have in the bank, I might just be able to save enough to buy some gear in time for the trip in March. Fingers crossed.
I walk into the Channel Nine building and see Andy right away. She looks panicked as usual. She must have the hardest job ever!
“Hi, Hannah,” she says looking up from a stack of Post-its littering the reception desk. “I know it’s here somewhere. Gosh … what did I do with it?”
“Do with what?”
“A list … an extremely important list.”
“Can I help?”
“Oh …” she says, gravely, “I don’t think so, Hannah, but thanks.”
“So, what’s on the list?”
“Well,” she says, frowning as her eyes dart from left to right, “we have a very special guest in the green room.”
“The green room?”
“It’s like a fancy waiting room where our guests go before they are interviewed.”
“Cool. So what’s the problem?”
“It’s very important, Hannah, to make sure our guests are happy before they go on air. So, we ask them to provide us with a list of things they want waiting for them in the green room for when they arrive. Sometimes, it’s a snack, sometimes a meal, and sometimes it’s just a cup of tea. Regardless, we always, ALWAYS make sure we have exactly what our guests want so they’re relaxed and comfortable before we interview them.”
“So, do you need me to get food?”
“The problem is I lost the paper with all the info, and our guest wants some pretty specific stuff. I just can’t go in there and ask her to tell me what it is she wants again. She’s a senator, Hannah. We’re interviewing her for part of our Women in Power segments.
I nod. “Sounds important.”
“She is,” Andy agrees, “and honestly, I would look like an unprofessional mess-up if I went in there right now, at the last minute, and asked her to tell me again what she already told me she wanted. I have to find that paper, Hannah.”
“I wish I could help you.”
“Me too, sweetie.” She smiles. “So, you’re looking for your dad?”
“Nope, I’m looking for work.”
“You’re a little young to work here.” Andy chuckles.
“I just turned fourteen!” I protest, grinning. “Actually, I’m just looking for babysitting jobs. I thought I’d post an ad on your bulletin board. Would that be okay?”
“Umm … normally I would say go for it, absolutely, only Frank’s daughter, Chloe — you might know her from school — gets pretty much all the babysitting jobs around here.”
“All the babysitting?”
“She actually runs a little business. When she can’t do a job herself, she has a list of kids that she calls on. If one of them does the job, she gets a little cut of their pay. She has business cards and everything. Hey, I’m sure she’d put you on her list if you asked her.”
I frown. “Um, thanks, but I don’t think so.”
“Feel free to put your ad up, anyway. It couldn’t hurt.”
“Okay.” I sigh. This isn’t turning out to be such a great plan after all.
As I make my way to the staff room, I notice a sign on the wall that says GREEN ROOM. I can’t help myself; I have to look in. Who is this important woman in power?
I open the door and stick my head in. I see a lady, about my mom’s age, wearing a cream-coloured business suit, sitting on the couch, reading a novel. She looks up and closes her book. “Hello.”
“Hi,” I reply.
“Do you work here?” she asks.
I laugh. “No, but can I help you with something?”
“I sure hope so. I’m dying of thirst. Do you know where a person might get a bottle of water around here?”
“Did you check in the fridge?” I point to a big stainless-steel refrigerator against the wall.
“Empty …” She shrugs.
“Really? Oh … that’s not good.”
“Well, I arrived a little early, so I’m thinking they probably have something on the way.”
“Yeah.” I nod, knowing she’s wrong. “What was it you asked for?”
“Oh, I asked for salad … you know, watching my diet, trying to be healthy … blah, blah, blah.” She laughs. “But what I would really love, I mean, give my right arm for, is a huge slice of plain old cheese pizza.”
“Cheese pizza?” I smile. “I might just be able to help you with that. Give me a minute,” I say, holding up one finger. “I’ll be right back.”
I dart into the staff room, past my dad who is having a coffee at the table, pull open the fridge door, and check the stock of bottled water. There’s lots. But I can’t just give her plain old water — she’s a senator. I have the perfect idea, but first I need money for pizza.
“Hey Dad, can you spot me ten bucks?”
“What for?”
“No time to explain, just trust me; it’s important!”
“Okay,” he says digging in his wallet. “All I have is a twenty.”
“Awesome,” I say, grabbing it.
With cash in hand, I take off out of the building, run across the street and into
Mama Mia’s Pizzeria and Sub Shop where they make the most incredible pizza, or so I’ve been told.
“Please tell me you have some slices ready,” I say, panting and out of breath.
It smells delicious in here, like, unbelievable!
“I have some coming out of the oven right now as a matter of fact,” a friendly looking man with a thick Italian accent says to me from behind the counter.
“Please, please, please tell me they’re cheese.”
“You’re in luck today, bella. That’s what I have. It’s our specialty!”
“Perfect! I’ll take two slices. And can you throw in a couple cucumber slices, too?”
“Cucumber slices?” the man asks, confused.
“Yeah, just two … no, make that four.”
“Um …” The man raises his eyebrows. “In a cup okay?”
“Sounds great.”
With a pizza box in one hand and a tiny cup of cucumber slices in the other, I tear back across the street. Rodrigo at reception looks up and motions with his hand to … slowwww down. Realizing I must look like a frantic maniac, I put on the brakes and proceed to walk to the staff room, where I check my hair in the mirror, grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water from the fridge, pop in a couple of cucumber slices, and slide the piping-hot pizza onto a plate. I put it all on a silver tray sitting beside the microwave and add a stack of napkins … pizza is messy!
“Still hungry?” I ask the woman as I walk back into the green room.
“Oh my gosh, hungry? You don’t even know.”
“Well how about a nice hot slice of cheese pizza?” I place the steaming tray on the coffee table in front of her.
Her eyes zoom in on the plate and she squeals with delight. Wow, she must really like pizza!
“You, young lady, are a lifesaver,” she says as she bites down on her slice. “This has to be the cheesiest — mmmm — gooiest, most delicious pizza I have ever had in my — mmmm — life! And I am not kidding,” she adds, licking her lips.
“I’m so sorry, Senator Bradley,” Andy exclaims, suddenly bursting into the room. “Your salad is on the …” Andy stops mid-sentence as she spies the huge slice of cheese-smothered pizza in Senator Bradley’s mouth. “Oh!” she exclaims, as a look of pure dread registers on her face. “Your salad should have been here waiting for you. I’m usually on top of these things. I don’t know what happened. I’ve really messed up. There’s no excuse.”
“Are you kidding? Salad wouldn’t have cut it today, Andy. With two flights, three meetings, and four cab rides, I haven’t eaten in probably seventeen hours. I’m starving, and this pizza tastes like heaven.” Senator Bradley laughs and takes another bite.
“Okay …” Andy says, looking over as I shove a slice of equally delicious pizza into my mouth.
“Yummy,” I say, smirking.
“Um … where did the pizza…?”
“You have quite a valuable assistant here, Andy! She even thought to bring me this lovely cucumber water!”
“Cucumber what?”
“Um …” I break in, “I saw it on The Doctors; it’s supposed to be calming and rejuvenating.” I wink at Andy.
“Mmmm … totally,” the senator agrees. “This young lady really knows how to think on her feet. Make sure you don’t lose her.”
“Good advice,” Andy says, nodding slowly.
* * *
After supper, back at home, Dad calls me into his office.
“So, I hear you were quite the little superstar at the station today.”
“Superstar?”
“That’s what Andy called you. She said you saved her butt today.”
“I just got one of the guests something to eat,” I say, shrugging. “No big deal.”
“Oh, but it was a big deal, Hannah. You impressed some very important people, including the senator.”
“Well, that’s cool, I guess.” I smile.
“It’s more than cool, Han! Andy is swamped at the station, totally in way over her head. Anyway, she wanted to know if you would be interested in working at the station after school as kind of a gofer.”
“A gofer?”
“Yeah. You’d help her out — kind of like what you did today. You’d be her second set of hands.”
“Thanks, Dad, but I have this babysitting thing that I’m trying to get off the ground.”
“Hannah, I’ve asked around and it looks like Frank’s daughter, Chloe, has all the babysitting locked down in the office. Besides, what Andy is offering you is guaranteed money, Monday to Friday.”
“They want to pay me? Like for real?”
“Of course they’ll pay you! It’s not a lot, but it will add up fast. I promise.”
“Wow! This is exciting!”
“Sure is! Now go get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.”
9
There Are Only Twenty-Four Hours in a Day
“So, I hear you’re trying to scam jobs at the radio station,” Ivy whispers as she walks past my desk.
“News travels fast,” I mutter, looking in the other direction.
“You’re wasting your time, you know. You’re not going to make a cent.”
“I’m not sure why you care, Ivy, but I’m pretty sure I will. I start working for Andy today.”
“You are mistaken, my friend.” She looks around, making sure she has an audience, and laughs. “Andy doesn’t have children!”
A few kids snicker, which fires her up even more. “If you’re gonna lie, Hannah, at least do your research!”
“I know Andy doesn’t have kids,” I answer.
“Well, then why would she hire you?” Ivy demands, as a far-too-confident set of duck-lips pop up on her face.
“I can answer that,” Chloe says, magically appearing, like she always does, whenever there’s a chance to dish out some of her usual nastiness. “I just had lunch with my dad and it seems that our little Hannah has somehow convinced the associate director that she has a brain.”
“What? They hired her, like, for a real job?” Ivy asks, dumbfounded.
“Yes, a real job.” Chloe grins smugly. “Anyone want to take bets on how long she’ll last before she’s fired?” She turns and taps me on the nose. “Oh, and I guess you won’t have time to work on our fundraising campaign now, will you? You know, with your busy schedule and all.”
“Fundraising campaign?”
Chloe rolls her eyes. “For our ski trip, dummy! But don’t worry. A. J. and I will handle everything. I’ll let you know if we need you to take minutes or something, okay?”
“Oh … I can do fundraising!” I say, looking at her straight on. “I’m all about fundraising!”
“Really? You do realize that people aren’t just going to throw money at you, right? Fundraising takes hours and hours of work, and lots of creativity. Do you have hours and hours, Hannah? Do you even have a single creative idea?” Chloe glances around at the group of kids, now surrounding us, and taps my head with her finger.
First my nose, now my head! That girl has got some nerve!
“I’ve got tons of ideas!” I cry out, pushing her hand away, at the same time wishing I could stuff the words I just said back in my mouth. I have no ideas. I have nothing.
“Oh, and just because you are supposed to be this ahhhmazing skier,” Chloe says, pursing her lips, “don’t think for one second that you are going to take charge of this campaign.”
“Take charge?”
“Because last year, Piper was all over it, like she always was, weaseling her way into everything A.J. did.”
“Everything?” Who was this girl?
“Oh my gawd, Chloe!” Ivy puts her hands to her heart and shakes her head. “You are soooo much prettier than Piper. I don’t get why he had a thing for her and not you!”
“Ivy,” Chloe says, forcing a stiff smile, “it doesn’t matter because Piper’s gone now, and it’s someone else’s turn!”
“Yeah!” Ivy repeats. “Someone else’s turn!�
�
“My turn.” Chloe stares at me angrily. “So back off!”
“No problem,” I say, wondering if she means back off A.J. or back off trying to take charge, or both. In any case it doesn’t matter. I turn to mush whenever A.J. comes near me, so that’s not going to happen, and as far as taking charge goes, my schedule is jam-packed as it is. I have no time to watch TV, let alone organize an entire fundraising campaign!
* * *
As the days go by, this crazy-busy feeling only gets worse. Don’t get me wrong, I mean work is great, like really, really fun, and has been since day one!
At first, I was sooooo nervous, but I found out pretty darn quick that when you’re working in a busy TV station, there’s no time for nerves. There’s always stuff to do from the minute I arrive until the minute I leave — things like getting coffee, delivering scripts, coordinating hair and makeup, and my specialty, taking care of important guests in the Green Room. Andy says I’m a lifesaver and that she doesn’t know what she did without me (she even gave me my own cellphone), but with all I have to do, I haven’t had a single second to work on getting ski gear or figuring out lessons or anything. It’s been school, work, and then homework every single day, except on the weekends when it’s homework, chores, and tae kwon do (Mom thinks I need a distraction to take my mind off working all the time — if she only knew!) and now, on top of everything, I have to think up brilliantly creative ways to fundraise for our club, and to make matters worse, Gabby is getting impatient. She keeps insisting that I buy gear! I have no money to buy gear.
I know it would make sense to ask my parents for help, but trust me, it wouldn’t! I can’t get my parents involved. They’ll just start asking questions … questions I don’t want to answer. I have to do this on my own and just pray that Gabby doesn’t say anything. I’m pretty sure she won’t, though, because I told her that my mom was really stressed over the move and that we absolutely shouldn’t bring it up until Mom gets the house settled. So far, so good. She hasn’t said a word, which is great, but won’t help me with my problem — I need cash!
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