time,” he grunts.
I smile, because I know that’s not all there is to it. Just like I know he and Arvin have a history I haven’t fully learned. I do know Rags and Barney worked for Hanover Steel, of which the Gambini brothers own a healthy share. And I’m guessing they got laid off. But I wonder what Arvin had to do with that. Did the three men clash on the Titan 1.0 project? As a large shareholder, Arvin would probably be able to fire them over whatever he wanted.
Look at me applying all my learning from Ms. Shimoni’s finance class.
She and her cat sweaters would be most proud.
On the walk home from Rags’s house that night, after I say good night to Magnolia, I spot a woman in the shadows. She’s moving with impressive stealth from yard to yard, pruning shears in her right hand. Anyone else would assume she’s about to commit a heinous crime, tiptoeing across people’s properties like that. But I know better.
“Hey, Mom.” I wave hello, and she holds a finger to her lips.
Making her way toward me, she whispers, “You been at Magnolia’s all day?”
I shrug so that it’s more a lie of omission. “What are you working on tonight?”
Mom points up the road to Mr. and Mrs. Wright’s house. They have a rosebush that’s been mistreated far too long. It now grows into the lawn itself and is infested with weeds and browning buds. “It needs a good pruning. If they won’t take care of it, I will.”
My mother, Horticulture Superhero, saving our neighborhood one snip at a time. I squeeze my fingers over my thumbs and ask the question I’m afraid to ask. “Mom, did you know about the eviction notice?”
She drops her gaze and twists the gold band on her ring finger. “ ’Course I did. But I was hoping we could keep it from you kids until your dad could figure things out.”
“We can’t just rely on Dad to help our family. We’re in this together.”
“He’s the head of our household, Astrid, and I’ll stand behind him the same way I have the last twenty-two years.”
Hearing her words frustrates me to no end. What is this? The 1950s? “You can do what you want. Stand by and pretend Dad will magically fix everything even though he’s the reason we’re in this mess. But as for me? I’m taking action.”
I turn on my heel and head toward our short-term home. My mom calls my name three times before I glance back. She raises her hands like she’s helpless in all this. Eventually, she says, “Help me with this rosebush, mi amor.”
I sigh, because my mother is who she is. She’ll always be the woman who is bold only when others are asleep in their beds. That way no one can challenge her head-on, and she’ll never have to deal with confrontation. But because she’s my mother, the same woman who made a “If my daughter were a dinosaur, she’d be a Mathosaurus” sign before a math competition in middle school, the mother who told me I was born a shooting star—my frustration lessens. “No, Mama. I’m going to bed. But you have fun.”
She gives her wedding ring one last twist, and heads toward our neighbors’ yard.
I show up at Rags’s house early the next morning, a sleepy Magnolia by my side. She insisted I wake her when I was heading over because “my battle is her battle.” My chest warms remembering the way she looked at me when she said this.
Magnolia is my best friend, and so it doesn’t surprise me that she’s committed to helping me compete in the Titan Circuit. But she doesn’t know that if I won, somehow, a part of that money would go to her. I don’t know how Rags would split the hypothetical winnings between us—he being the one with the Titan and knowledge, and me taking the risks out on the track. But Magnolia’s family has struggled as much as mine has, and I want to make sure they don’t end up with their own eviction notice in hand.
Rags is loading two bags into the truck bed when we arrive, and this time he doesn’t even complain when he sees
I smile, because I know that’s not all there is to it. Just like I know he and Arvin have a history I haven’t fully learned. I do know Rags and Barney worked for Hanover Steel, of which the Gambini brothers own a healthy share. And I’m guessing they got laid off. But I wonder what Arvin had to do with that. Did the three men clash on the Titan 1.0 project? As a large shareholder, Arvin would probably be able to fire them over whatever he wanted.
Look at me applying all my learning from Ms. Shimoni’s finance class.
She and her cat sweaters would be most proud.
On the walk home from Rags’s house that night, after I say good night to Magnolia, I spot a woman in the shadows. She’s moving with impressive stealth from yard to yard, pruning shears in her right hand. Anyone else would assume she’s about to commit a heinous crime, tiptoeing across people’s properties like that. But I know better.
“Hey, Mom.” I wave hello, and she holds a finger to her lips.
Making her way toward me, she whispers, “You been at Magnolia’s all day?”
I shrug so that it’s more a lie of omission. “What are you working on tonight?”
Mom points up the road to Mr. and Mrs. Wright’s house. They have a rosebush that’s been mistreated far too long. It now grows into the lawn itself and is infested with weeds and browning buds. “It needs a good pruning. If they won’t take care of it, I will.”
My mother, Horticulture Superhero, saving our neighborhood one snip at a time. I squeeze my fingers over my thumbs and ask the question I’m afraid to ask. “Mom, did you know about the eviction notice?”
She drops her gaze and twists the gold band on her ring finger. “ ’Course I did. But I was hoping we could keep it from you kids until your dad could figure things out.”
“We can’t just rely on Dad to help our family. We’re in this together.”
“He’s the head of our household, Astrid, and I’ll stand behind him the same way I have the last twenty-two years.”
Hearing her words frustrates me to no end. What is this? The 1950s? “You can do what you want. Stand by and pretend Dad will magically fix everything even though he’s the reason we’re in this mess. But as for me? I’m taking action.”
I turn on my heel and head toward our short-term home. My mom calls my name three times before I glance back. She raises her hands like she’s helpless in all this. Eventually, she says, “Help me with this rosebush, mi amor.”
I sigh, because my mother is who she is. She’ll always be the woman who is bold only when others are asleep in their beds. That way no one can challenge her head-on, and she’ll never have to deal with confrontation. But because she’s my mother, the same woman who made a “If my daughter were a dinosaur, she’d be a Mathosaurus” sign before a math competition in middle school, the mother who told me I was born a shooting star—my frustration lessens. “No, Mama. I’m going to bed. But you have fun.”
She gives her wedding ring one last twist, and heads toward our neighbors’ yard.
I show up at Rags’s house early the next morning, a sleepy Magnolia by my side. She insisted I wake her when I was heading over because “my battle is her battle.” My chest warms remembering the way she looked at me when she said this.
Magnolia is my best friend, and so it doesn’t surprise me that she’s committed to helping me compete in the Titan Circuit. But she doesn’t know that if I won, somehow, a part of that money would go to her. I don’t know how Rags would split the hypothetical winnings between us—he being the one with the Titan and knowledge, and me taking the risks out on the track. But Magnolia’s family has struggled as much as mine has, and I want to make sure they don’t end up with their own eviction notice in hand.
Rags is loading two bags into the truck bed when we arrive, and this time he doesn’t even complain when he sees
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