Page 3 of 518 Hope Ave
I smile at him, tapping on my computer to bring up his account. "You know, I heard Lucas say the funniest thing this morning. He was with his friend, and his friend said, ‘You know what’s odd?’ and Lucas came back with, ‘Every other number.’ I had to hide my giggle behind my hand or I’d out myself as the maths geek I always was."
Ezra meets my eyes and chuckles. "I’ll tell him you got his humor. He struggles finding people on his level. Smarter than I ever was," he says with pride in his voice as he pulls a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket and starts counting them off. They’re all small denominations, so I’m guessing this is his hard-earned tip money. I have a great urge to tell him to keep it all and just pay his bill myself.
“That’s seven hundred and seventy…two, three, four…” He digs into his pocket and pulls out some change. “Fifty, seventy…seven, seventy-five.” He pushes it all across the counter. “I think that’s right.”
Placing my hand on the pile of money, my heart feels heavy as I sweep it all into the cash drawer, marking him as paid. "You're doing a great job with them, Ezra. You should be really proud," I say, a touch above a murmur, breaking the silence that formed between us suddenly.
He grimaces slightly at my comment and then shakes his head. "I really haven't done much. Mom and Dad raised them, not me," he starts, a tinge of sadness creeping into his voice. "I'm just keeping them alive until they can look after themselves."
I lean over and tear off the printed receipt. "You really should give yourself more credit.Youhave been taking care of them over the last four years." Looking deep into his eyes, I sigh. "Losing one's parents is a traumatic experience, and if they didn't have you providing stability for them, things could have been very different."
He takes the receipt I hold out to him, his fingers brushing along mine for a split second before he breaks our eye contact and looks to his feet. But I see him smiling...just a little. “Thanks.” He nods, mostly to himself before taking a step back. "I'll see you around, Quinn," he says before turning around and leaving the office, an unmistakable change in his posture. Like right now, he actually feels proud.
My eyes follow him until I can’t see him anymore. Then I get back to work, flattening out the crumpled bills and putting them in the appropriate spaces in the cash drawer, however, it doesn’t take long before I realize he was twenty dollars short. A slight pang hits my chest. Standing there, counting out all this money must have been difficult enough for him to do, I don’t have the heart to go back to him and tell him the school needs more. So instead, I reach under the desk and pull out my purse, slipping a crisp twenty into the drawer to cover Ezra’s mistake. I can't imagine what he's had to give up in order for him to afford to pay this, so it gives me a secret thrill to know that I somehow helped, even if he never truly knows.
4
Ezra
"Get in," I call out when I spot Lucas and Cora walking out of the school. "Scored a free pizza from the diner, so I hope you’re hungry."
Cora squeals and runs over. "Pizza, pizza, pizza!"
I ruffle her hair, causing her to smack my hand away and complain about me messing her do. “Just because you’re twelve, doesn’t mean you have to get all caught up in your style, kiddo. Messy looks good on you.” She pokes out her tongue, and I laugh and pull her into a hug. "Let's get you guys home then, yeah?"
Everyone climbs into the car, Lucas in the front seat, grabbing the pizza box and peering inside. "Pepperoni. Score! Nice one, big bro. You are the man.”
“I try,” I say, chuckling as I put the car into gear then head on home. Lucas starts chatting away, going off on one of his storytelling missions. Something about some kid in his art class doing graffiti under the tables. I try my best to listen to what he's saying, but I'm terrible at listening to people talk while I'm driving. When I drive, much like when I doanything, I need to put all my attention into it or else I can't do it properly. Multitasking and me? Nope. Not possible.
"As if the teacher would let it go. That's bullshit!" Cora says over Lucas as I turn into Hope Ave toward home. My foot immediately hits the brake outside our house, causing all of us to lurch forward and the pizza to almost fall.
"Cora!" I scold, turning my head toward her, "You shouldn't be using that kind of language. Where do you even—"
"If I shouldn't be using it, then why doeseveryonesay it?" she says, cutting me off.
My jaw drops and silence falls among us. She'sright. If cuss words are so bad, why are they used all over the media nowadays? For a twelve-year-old, she can be pretty wise sometimes, and that's scary.
Suddenly, Lucas bursts out laughing, cutting through the tension that built up in the car. Cora follows suit soon after and I can't help but laugh along with them.
"All right, you two, let's just get inside so we can dig into this pizza. I haven’t eaten all day," I say as I pull into the driveway and shut the engine. I get out of the car and start heading toward the front door. Sticking the key into the door, I remember the groceries and call over my shoulder, "Hey, Lucas, could you help me bring those bags in the trunk into the kitchen, please?"
"Yar, cap'tn," Lucas replies, causing Cora to cringe.
"Gosh, Lucas, you're so lame!" she groans, trying to be the most mature tween in the world. She doesn’t have time for her immature fifteen-year-old brother and his silly voices.
With her nose in the air, she pushes past me, taking the pizza box and heading straight to the kitchen. Before I can say anything in protest, I hear her turn on the toaster oven, then she’s shuffling about, setting the breakfast bar up for our meal, her blonde ponytail now neat and high on her little head.
I lean against the doorframe to the kitchen and cross my arms, my tension easing a little. "Thank you, Cora. You’re too good for the likes of us," I say teasingly.
She grins my way. "Oh, I know. But I love you both anyway." She continues setting up for dinner, humming a random tune while bouncing up and down, dancing.
"I'm staaaarving," Lucas groans as he enters the kitchen, hauling the bags onto the counter.
We get to work unpacking our meager supplies, and I can’t help but note the hidden expression on Lucas’s face as he pulls out nothing but off-brand items. He knows by now that means we’re flat broke.
“Pizza smells good,” he says, flashing me a smile as the scent of warm, melted cheese and pepperoni fills the kitchen.
“It was our lucky day. Just as my shift ended, someone ran out on their order. Caroline was kind enough to let me bring it home.” My stomach grumbles hard, and I’m grateful to my boss for throwing me a bone here and there. I know she’s hard on me, but she’s also given me far more chances than she’d give anyone else due to my situation. She’s as kind as she is strict.
