I don’t know what to do.

Let me tell you, this is a first for me.

But my parents have thrown me a curveball, and my normally brimming-with-ideas-for-retaliation mind is completely blank.

They want me to get a job over the summer.

I don’t know how to deal with this. If I were the whiney-cheerleader type, I would let loose some crocodile tears and beg Daddy to let me go with a warning. If I were the argumentative-geek type, I would form an argument and present my case. But I’m not any of those, and I don’t know what the handbook for social rejects would say.

Because that’s Jake’s department.

I only plot. Jake is my wingman, who handles all of the details. He’s the one in charge of making plans and making sure we don’t end up doing anything ‘cool’.

But that’s what got me into this mess in the first place. As my mom phrased it, “You are spending way too much time with that boy down the street. Whenever you hang out with him, he always seems to get you into trouble.” Yeah, right Mom. Jake is so not the reason I’m always causing trouble. He didn’t make me rig the toilets in the girl’s bathroom to never flush (duct tape over the auto-flush sensors) or stash that stolen chunk of sulfur in Amy Gordon’s locker. But if my mom and dad could look away from my two sisters every once in a while, and glance over in my direction, what they would see (me as the mastermind) might thrill them even less. So, for now, it suits me just fine for them to think that Jake is the problem. Or it did. Right up until they decided that Jake and I have too much free time on our hands. And that a summer that would have been spent cooking up ways to make the world a more reject-friendly place would be better spent working at Walden’s Drugstore a few miles away.

“Honey, we only want what’s best for you! We don’t think that another summer as a hooligan is going to teach you anything about the real world. Your sisters each got jobs the summer they turned sixteen.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They wanted jobs. They begged for jobs. But I was perfectly content without one. Plus, I’m turning eighteen in the fall, so you’re past the deadline.” I was trying to be as insolent as possible.

“How can I phrase this nicely,” my dad interrupted. I could tell it wasn’t going to be quite as nice I had hoped. “We can’t survive another summer with you at home. Last year we spent the summer shuttling you and Jake back and forth between home and the mall. We’re hoping that a job will give you a sense of responsibility and help you burn off that excess energy that causes you to… cause trouble.”

“You’re hoping it will turn me into Stacy and Sarah, you mean,” I mumbled.

“Stella! You’re not helping your case!” my mother’s cheeks flushed pink. I knew I’d hit a nerve. I started to feel a little bad. It wasn’t my parents’ fault that my sisters were robots. So I made the only retreat I could; I rolled my eyes and stormed up to my room, slamming the door a little for effect.

The next day at school, I dropped the bomb on Jake.

“WHAT?” he shouted. It was during homeroom, when the rest of the school is still sleeping, so his outburst seemed louder than necessary.

“Shhhh!” I hissed.

“Stella-Marie Fisher, you had best be pulling my leg,” he whispered back, “or I’m gonna just about hit the ceiling.” Jake is from Texas. Sometimes when he gets upset, his accent really comes through.

“Don’t call me that. It makes me feel like a Stacy-Lynn/ Sarah-Anne clone. You know I don’t have a choice. My dad put his foot down. I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m madder’n a… well I can’t think of anything as mad as me right now. But I’m not mad at you; I’m just mad. ‘Cause I’m gonna have to find something to do with myself all summer. D’ya think they’d let me get a job too?”

I made my don’t count on it, Buster face at him. “My parents know better. They probably warned the manager not to even let you on the premises.”

“Well we’ll just have to test his attention. I’ll be sneaking around, trust me. I’ll come and visit every day.”

“I hope so. I don’t plan on making any friends with the other clerks.”

“Oh, gawd, that’s right! Like that weird photo girl who looks through everyone’s pictures? And the druggie at the front register? Holy cow, you’re gonna be the normal one for once!”

I punched him for that one.

After I broke the news to Jake, the day went pretty smoothly. Now I have to find a way to consent to working without losing the battle with my parents.

Okay, I lost. As soon as I came into the house after school, my mom rushed up to me, dragged me into the kitchen and sat me down at the table. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry that your father and I came on so strong yesterday. But we meant what we said. You do need to make use of your time this summer, and you need to get some experience in the real world. If you’re not in agreement, that’s fine. But you have to try the job at least. Work a month, then we can sit down and decide if it’s right for you.”

That was when I lost. I had no argument for that. It was a perfectly reasonable solution; even I had to admit that. “Okay, Mom. That’s fine. I’ll work a month, and then decide.”

But I was positive that I wouldn’t like it.

School ended two weeks later, and suddenly my schedule opened up. My first day of work was two days after school let out. I woke up at six, showered, dressed, and ate breakfast. Still in a summertime coma, I dawdled a little and didn’t manage to get into the car until seven twenty-eight. My shift began at seven thirty. My dad drove me, and he raced down those empty early morning roads like they were the Autobahn in Germany. When he stopped in front of the automatic double doors, I barely fought back the urge to fling myself to ground and weep. Instead, my hands merely shook a little as I opened the door. I shuddered as I walked toward the front doors.

“Have a good day, sweetie!” my dad called from the car. Then he roared out of the parking lot. I took a steadying breath, and then walked in.

The first hour or so of my first shift passed in a blur. I was presented to the General Manager, the two Executive Assistant Managers, the four Assistant Managers and informed that there were also Heads of each department: Floor, Photo and Cosmetic. I couldn’t believe how many people had ridiculously useless titles, and that were proud to point them out to me on their plastic nametags. I looked down at the square of blue plastic in my own hand. Stella-Marie Fisher, it proclaimed, Beauty Advisor. I wanted to gag.

First stop on the tour was the breakroom, where I was assigned a locker, then the bathrooms. Then I was directed (shoved) over to the Beauty counter, where I was introduced to Cassia, my Head of department. She was going to train me on the register. When I saw her, I thought she looked familiar. As soon as she stepped out from behind the counter, my stomach dropped through the floor. Her belly swelled out in front of her as though she had a watermelon stuffed under her black cosmetic smock. She was The Pregnant Girl that used to go to my school. I had only seen her occasionally, but almost the whole school was tracking her progress in an underground/black market kind of way. I knew little about her; she had been a senior, she had dropped out of high school shortly before Christmas break, and her parents had thrown her out when she had decided to keep the baby. The rumors couldn’t seem to agree on who the father was, because no one knew for sure. I shook her hand and she smiled brightly at me. I felt sick.

Training on the register was pretty easy, and by noon I was ringing customers by myself, while Cassia straightened the shelves. My feet started to ache quickly though, and I asked her how to prevent that.

“Invest in some Dr. Scholl’s,” she advised, “and take some time to walk around and straighten up. That’s what I try to do when I feel my legs swelling.” I blushed a little. I hadn’t considered how hard it would be on a pregnant girl to be on her feet all day. I had only thought of myself, and my pain. “Would you mind if I took my lunch now?” asked Cassia, interrupting my thoughts.

“Not at all,” I replied. “Enjoy your break.” Lame, I know. But I couldn’t exactly say something like, ‘Of course, you’re eating for two now aren’t you?” So I stuck with lame over insulting.

Twenty minutes later the store was basically empty of customers, so I wandered back to the break-room to check my cell phone for texts. I was bored and looking for an excuse to wander. But when I got to the break room, I found Cassia sitting in a plastic chair with her feet up on a second chair, hands over her belly and staring at the floor as though she wanted to drill through it.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She looked up at me, startled. “Yes, I’m fine! Oh, did I take too long? I was distracted,” she said by way of explanation. “He started to kick.”

“No, no, it’s fine, you still have plenty of time.” I answered. Silence hung thick in the air for a few seconds as I reached into my locker and pulled out my phone, flipped it open, then snapped it shut. I slammed my locker closed, and started to walk back out, when my curiosity got the better of me. “What does that feel like?” I asked. She looked surprised by my question. “I’m the youngest in my family,” I tried to explain, “so I never saw my mom pregnant or anything. I was just wondering…”

She laughed, a pretty sound that made me feel more embarrassed and relieved at the same time. Like what I had said was stupid, but it was okay. “I can’t really explain it. It’s not like anything you would have experienced.”

I laughed, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, you’re right.” I turned and ran back out to the counter. For the rest of the day, I tried to avoid making a fool of myself.

Two weeks passed quickly. Cassia and I shared no more uncomfortable moments. I got my first paycheck and Jake and I took a celebratory shopping trip on my day off. As we walked around the mall, I saw Cassia in the maternity store. She was with a really handsome guy, who kept putting his hand on her belly and kissing her cheek. It was really cute, but I still hid behind a bush when they came out. Jake stood guard, all the while giving me a weird look. I told him the story of how I made a fool of myself, and he laughed so hard that his Orange Julius came out of his nose. I thought that was kind of insensitive of him.

The next day when I went to work, I was a little nervous about seeing Cassia. But she came over to me, all smiles, and said, “I saw you at the mall with your boyfriend yesterday!”

I stared at her, at a complete loss. “Jake is- he’s not my boyfriend! He’s my best friend!” I couldn’t believe she thought that we were dating!

But she just gave me one of those knowing looks, and said, “Sure,” like she didn’t believe me. “I saw you guys sitting in the food court. I guess I just assumed… but anyway, I turned to Tanner, and was like, ‘I know her! I she works at Walden’s. She’s pretty cool for a kid.’” She gave me a smile and a little shove.

I was indignant. “I am not a kid!” I exclaimed.

“To me you are,” she replied.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“I’ll be nineteen in a month. Right after my due date.”

I stared at her for a second. I had forgotten that I wasn’t arguing with one of my sisters.

“I’m sorry. That was rude. I forgot about-”

“You forgot that I was pregnant?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Good,” she smiled at me. “I was hoping you would. That does seem to be all that people can see when they look at me anymore. I guess it’s because they can’t see me at all past the belly.” She rubbed her stomach gently. “Tanner is so excited, but I- I’m just tired. I’m tired of being fat. I’m tired of my ankles being swollen. I’m just really… tired.”

“Is Tanner the father?” I hazarded.

“Yes,” she sighed. “We didn’t tell anyone, because he had to graduate, and he couldn’t do that if his parents threw him out too. So when he graduated at the end of the year, he told his parents and they actually reacted pretty well. They were upset, of course, but they understood why we didn’t tell them, after what happened to me. Now Tanner is going to go to trade school to be an electrician.”

“Will he make enough?” I asked, then immediately wished I hadn’t.

“Oh, sure.” She fluttered her hand, waving my doubts away like flies. “In the meantime, I’m paying the rent on my apartment with my salary here. And,” she leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially, “we’re getting married at the end of the summer!” She laughed again, a sweet, happy sound.

Then she turned away to help a customer, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Mostly I felt guilty, for the fight I’d had with my parents about getting a job. I had looked down on the people who worked at Walden’s. I had thought them beneath me. But Cassia, at least, was a stronger person than I had ever thought. She had made a decision to stay positive and make everything work. So she dropped out of school and got a job to support herself. The more I thought about it, the more I began to admire her. (Except for the whole teen pregnancy thing.) Then I realized that we were also slowly, tentatively becoming friends. I tapped her on the shoulder and told that I was going to go make a quick phone call. I needed to let my mom know that I was going to finish out the summer at Walden’s.