“Don’t we all need a Sugar Daddy?"

2. Cereal

I woke up when I heard Mom stumble in about 5:30 in the morning. She yelled something obscene at someone then slammed the front door and laughed like she’d said the funniest thing ever.

She floundered in the hallway until she found the bathroom, and pretty soon, I could hear the shower running and Mom shouting the lyrics to some early nineties tune. I lay there quietly, trying to process what had happened last night. My eyes were gummed closed by dried tears, so I sort of knew it had really happened.

I needed a shower I decided but I would have to wait until Mom finished. I was about to get up and look in my hidden hole to be sure that the money existed when Mom surprised me by barging into my room, naked, with a wet towel haphazardly wrapped around her, dyed blonde hair streaming water down her.

“Garry Larry,” she shouted, then winced at the sound of her own voice. “Your old mother has fallen into it!” Then she cackled like a hen and whooped like a hound.

“Into what?” I asked.

She sat on my bed, getting the sheets wet. “Into matrimony!” she crowed. “That son-of-a-bitch Colonel Underwood asked me to marry him!” She giggled. “I had to trip him and beat him to the floor but he finally came through. Bitsy Underwood! Can you imagine that?”

I had to rub my eyes to get the boogers out before I could really react and by that time she had popped up from her soggy perch and gone across the hallway to Jenny’s room. “Hey,” I heard her shout. “Number One Daughter, your Ma is going to get married!”

At least, Mom was taking on the task of getting Jenny up and moving. But now I didn’t dare look in my cache for the cash I’d put there when either one of them might come traipsing in. I decided on taking the shower I had thought about earlier, so I got up and got into the bathroom before Jenny could.

In the shower, I briefly examined my chest. The growths there had first appeared about ten weeks before and had made life a bit difficult for me in P.E. the last few months of the school year. But the doctor had been right, I wasn’t the only kid with the problem, and wearing a loose t-shirt over a tight one, pretty much kept my small problems concealed.

They were sensitive, though, and one kid in P.E., Armand Kiel, had earned a kick in the crotch from me for grabbing and twisting them. Even the memory of that caused me to wince. We’d both been sent home for the day, but the next day, Coach Taggart seemed to think we were even and made us shake hands. Kiel actually got teased more for letting a skinny sissy kick him there than I did for having tiny titties.

I’d been called a sissy and worse for years. I didn’t worry that much about it, but if the bullying got physical, I had been known to slam doors on fingers and stab people with pencils. Bruno Liefeld had four little scars on the calf of his right leg after he tripped me in the cafeteria line and stepped on me. A fork makes a good weapon.

I hadn’t hesitated last night when I slammed the front door into the sergeant’s face, even though he had never laid a hand on me. He didn’t seem to resent that, or he had an odd way of showing it, leaving $400 on the floor. And the note.

I’d been so scared. Mom and Sis had been raped in the past and I’d felt sure it was my turn. I knew it would hurt. I stood there in the shower, crying, but no one could have known.

I dried myself with one of the few luxuries Mom insisted on, big fluffy towels that felt plush against the skin. I wrapped one around me, doing a better job than Mom had done earlier, but wearing it as she had. I did have breasts to cover, didn’t I?

What the hell did Milo want from me?

I finger-combed my hair to help it start drying and wrapped a smaller towel around my my head to soak up the excess. The day already promised to be hot and humid with little chance of air-drying it quickly, and I hated hair dryers in this sort of weather. The no-heat setting wouldn’t dry it at all. I pulled off the towel and rewrapped it with the other side inward to pull up more wet.

What was I going to do with $400? And the note….?

Not just where could I keep them hidden but what actions should I take. There were things I would like to buy, but would I have to lie to Mom and Sis to explain where I got them? First thing to buy would be a new cellphone, mine had gotten stolen last week. I could probably get a cheap one at Walmart.

But would I buy something pretty and wear it to meet him later today?

His note made it sound like he wanted me to dress like a girl. And yet, it was when I had confirmed to him that I was a boy that he had really seemed interested. Why else had he wanted to know if I had a dick? It wasn’t as if I were hung like some of the guys I had seen in gym class. And he didn’t seem to be gay, after all, he’d come here intending to fuck my sister.

I was up I decided, so I might as well get dressed. I pulled on my underwear—including a second t-shirt to help hide my little boobs. I hated having to wear a second layer in the summer heat. I found a mostly clean pair of jeans and slipped my feet into some sneaks without socks. Done. Good thing I’m not a girl, I thought, Jenny could make the job of getting dressed take half an hour or more.

Mom had gone to bed while I was taking my shower and I’d heard Sis get up and leave her room in the add-on, so I wandered out to the kitchen, still combing my hair with a wide tooth comb to get more water out without causing much damage. Jenny was sitting at the table where I had been studying for tests, but she was ignoring my schoolbooks and eating handfuls of generic From cereal right from the box. She looked like she always looked coming down from a high—like lukewarm hell.

I reached around her to retrieve my glasses that were still where I left them last night. Mom teased that the wire rims made me look like Paul wearing John’s glasses but Sis and I pretended that we had no idea who she was on about, just to wind her up about getting old.

I also moved all my books and papers into one stack, too. My classes didn’t start for a couple of hours yet, and hell, was I even going to go? You were only allowed to miss one session in Summer Semester, a second absence and you were out of the program. I’d missed one already, but I didn’t really have to pass any of these classes.

They mattered only if I intended to go back to school this fall. Was I? I’d be sixteen the week before classes started, the age at which, in my state, you could decide to drop out without them coming after you. I decided I could go one more day at least, take the tests and if I flunked even one of them, or even if I passed them all, I could decide about dropping out later. There was only one more week of Summer Semester, I could probably tough it out.

I got out a bowl and another box of cereal (one that hopefully hadn’t had Jenny’s grimy hands in it) and a carton of milk, and poured myself some Frosty Flakes, the kind with the cheerful hyena on the box instead of the brand name tiger.

“Morning,” I offered.

She regarded me with benign indifference, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and retrieved another handful of fruit-flavored corn cereal. “Murf,” she said with her mouth full.

“You missed your sergeant last night,” I told her.

She breathed out between pursed lips, spraying a bit of half-chewed multi-colored food on the table. “When did he get here? He was supposed to pick me up six thirty.”

I mulled that over. Was Sgt Milo habitually late, or had it been a one-off? Most military-types are painfully punctual. So maybe Sis was lying, just to justify shooting up and missing her date.

“Ten,” I told her, but I didn’t mention the money or the note.

“Oh, well,” she said. “You snooze, you lose.” That could apply either way. She grabbed another handful of cereal and gnawed on it.

I rinsed my bowl and spoon and put them in the dish drainer. I didn’t really want to engage Jenny in conversation about Milo, anyway.

“Did you hear Mom’s news? She’s getting married?” Sis asked, not sounding all that interested.

I nodded. Frankly, Mom was still good-looking if a bit faded and crumpled. Her personal habit of drinking all night may have helped her find this Col. Underwood, but could she really be what he was looking for in a wife?

Jenny sighed, looking mournfully into the now empty box of cereal. “No prize in this one,” she said in an odd echo of what I had been thinking.

I gathered my books into my backpack. “I gotta go,” I said. “It’s an eight block walk to school.” I still hadn’t had time or aloneness to check on the money and note, but they would certainly be safe where they were until I got back. I started checking my backpack to be sure I had everything I needed, schoolbooks, notebooks, pens and pencils, billfold with some cash. I didn’t pack a lunch.

“Take you fifteen minutes,” she said. “You’re gonna be way early.”

“It’s test day, I need some time to study.”

She waved that away, beginning to disassemble the cereal box into strips of cardboard, gray on one side and colorful on the other. I

“They don’t really do that any more,” I commented, looking around for my cellphone before remembering it had been stolen earlier in the week. That was something I could spend some of the money on.

“Do what?” she asked, tearing several of the cardboard strips in half sideways.

“Put prizes in cereal boxes. Unsanitary and stupid because the prizes were always junk.”

Jenny snorted. “Mom got lucky, I guess. She did find the prize in the bottom of the box.”

The idea seemed funny to me, and I grinned. “Colonel Underwear?”

“I think it’s Colonel Undertall, but yeah, don’t we all need a Sugar Daddy?”

I grunted and headed out the door, thinking. Was Sergeant Milo going to be my Sugar Daddy?

I got my feet out from under the table in case I had to run.

3. Juicebox

I don’t want to talk about summer school but I suppose I should mention it. My attendance was mandated by school authorities due to my poor grades all through middle school and a year of high school, and part of that wasn’t my fault but was because of the pandemic. So I had to retake 9th grade English, Algebra, Science and Social Studies in the summer, or I would have to take them in the fall. Each class was almost two hours a day for seven weeks, which left very damn little summer for fun.

Not that there’s a lot of fun to be had in the Lonesome Mountains of southern Arizona. And if I weren’t in school, I would likely be at home in the hottest, muggiest weather of the year. At least the A/C at school usually worked.

The day promised to be a scorcher with a little light rain just before noon from the looks of the sky. The joys of the monsoon. I trudged through the landscape of suburban blight with a fifteen pound backpack that felt like it weighed sixty. Big Lonesome Peak loomed in the distance as if it stood right above the city and not more than sixty miles away. Or a hundred kilometers, since the top of the peak itself was in Mexico. Almost two miles high (or three kilometers) it would actually have snow on it most winters.

It was a landmark for the whole area—since it had a secondary peak on the US side, you could tell where you were in the valley by the shape the mountain made against the sky.

I got to the school even before the gates were open but as soon as they were, I made my way to the Library/Study Hall to do some cramming for the tests we had every Friday. For me, taking tests is a lot like having pieces of me trimmed off for some ghoulish stew. Only in English did I have hope of more than a barely passing grade.

I didn’t get as much studying done as I had hoped. I couldn’t concentrate. Several people gave me odd looks and one kid seemed to be staring at me. I couldn’t figure it out, but when I glared back at him he sort of smiled and looked away. I worried about it after a bit and changed seats. I know I was sort of paranoid to begin with because of the money Milo had given me.

I didn’t have it with me. I t was hopefully safe at home, but I’d never had so much money of my own before. And he was offering more if I showed up tonight? What did he want? I kind of thought I knew what he wanted and the last thing I needed for any sort of feeling of security was some kid staring at me and smiling. A bell rang finally and I got up to go, shoveling everything back into my backpack and making sure my glasses were on my face.

Classes started about 8:30, I honestly never remember whether it is 8:25 or 8:35, I just depend on the bells to let me know when class starts. First class for me and thirty other kids was Social Studies, just to assure that we began the day bored and sleepy and continued in those conditions all day. And for maximum effect of the sleepy-bored combination, Science and Algebra were in the afternoon.

Social studies, which was world history this week, went poorly because of the half hour test inflicted on us. We graded our own answers at the end of the period and I had 25 right out of 40. I sighed. According to the grading ranges on the chalkboard, I needed two more right to get a C. Who needed to know this stuff anyway?

English second period went better. I’m actually kind of good at this stuff and had done the 500 word essay assigned as homework and turned that in, having finished it in the library just that morning. Our Friday test consisted of ten essay questions and despite being distracted by another kid staring at me, I felt pretty sure I had at least a B on that.

When the bell rang for end of period, I got out of there fast because the kid looked like he might come over to talk to me and fuck that. Why was he so interested in me anyway? Lunch would be a good time to avoid him and his creepy stare.

The cafeteria wasn’t open in summer school, but bagged lunches were available, passed out by the same lunch ladies that normally filled lunch trays with scoops of glop and splat. Since I was considered a disadvantaged person by the school district, the lunch was free. Usually something like a cheese or sliced turkey sandwich, a tiny bag of chips, an apple, some carrot sticks, a cookie and a box of juice or milk. A soda machine was also available. Or you could walk the two blocks to a nearby 7-11 and feast on over-priced junk food there.

I usually ate about half the sandwich and the chips, saving the cookie for a snack in between afternoon classes, and taking the apple home with me. The juice today was strawberry-banana, so I slurped that down since it would not keep well and was genuinely delicious.

I always ate in the air-conditioned lunchroom which was open even if the cafeteria wasn’t. Summer school wasn’t like regular school and there wasn’t much socializing but today, the boy I had seen before staring plopped down across from me. He was a big kid, probably a junior or going to be senior, with a lot of wavy black hair. This was worse than being stared at. Guys his size were usually trouble for skinny kids like me.

But he was smiling at least. He eyed the half a turkey sandwich I had rewrapped and laid aside.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked.

I shook my head and pushed it toward him. “You can have it, it’s kinda dry.” I had taken it apart and eaten the lettuce, so it was even dryer, really.

He devoured it in less than six bites. The way he did it struck me as funny and I smiled at him as I sipped my juice. He wasn’t threatening to shove me into a trashcan just for existing so I tried to relax, but no use pushing my luck by laughing in his face.

“How come girls almost never eat a whole sandwich?” he asked.

“I dunno, not hungry, I guess. Why ask me?” I pushed my glasses back up my nose. It’s always a problem for me cause I have such a short nose and my glasses are heavy.

“You didn’t eat your sandwich.”

“I told you, it was kinda dry.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. He stood up. “Want some water?”

“I’ve got juice.”

The school also provided small bottles of water for free for anyone. With the heat outside, it made sense, since they had turned off the water fountains during the pandemic. I watched him retrieve a bottle, twist it open, drain it and crush the empty between his hands.

“Ooo, strong,” I said. He seemed to have obviously been showing off and deserved to be twitted for it. He had looked funny doing it and less like a bully than I had first thought.

He made a noise that would have to be spelled, ‘scoff.’

“You doing anything tonight?” he asked.

I stared at him. “Are you asking me out?” That sounded kind of squeaky but I was astonished.

“I am,” he said, grinning.

I sucked up the last of the NannaBerry Nectar with a harsh sucking sound.

He smirked, staring at me, like before. I squinted at him, trying to read his expression, but wrinkling my nose made my glasses slip and I had to rescue them again.

I tossed the empty carton in the bin right beside the table and pointed at myself. “I’m a boy,” I said. Maybe he was gay. Not a great thing to be in Arizona. Maybe I was about to get pounded after all if he wasn’t gay.

He made that scoffing noise again. “Yeah, right!” he said.

I blinked. “You don’t believe I’m a boy?” Wait… Is this better than getting pounded?

“No. But it might be fun if you tried to prove it!” he challenged.

I looked around. No one was really watching. “Here? Now?” I couldn’t really do that—how would I prove it besides pulling my pants down?

“Nah. We could do that later.” He did things with one eyebrow. “How about we go for a movie? Burgers?”

“But I really am a boy,” I tried again. I got my feet out from under the table in case I had to run.

He glared at me this time. “If you don’t wanna go, just say you already have a date.”

I blinked, at least twice. “I already have a date,” I said. I guess I did, sort of. Anyway, he had suggested it as a way out.

But he got up as abruptly as he had first sat down and left without looking back or saying anything.

Three girls at a nearby table cracked up. “Elvis has left the building,” one of them commented.

“Is that his name?” I asked. “Elvis?”

“With that curly dark hair? I think it’s just a nickname. But he always waits till the last minute to try to get a date. If he’d asked you yesterday, you might have said yes.”

I shook my head. It was unusual for girls to even speak to me. “I really do have a date tonight,” I said, sort of telling the truth. “I just don’t know if I’m going to go.” Did they think I was a girl, too?

“Huh? Why not?”

“He’s an older guy, from the army base. He kinda scares me.” This was all true. I did have a sort of date with an older guy from the army base, and Milo definitely scared me. Plus, what? Was I claiming to be gay? Or a girl?

“Fuck him if he scares you, I mean,” she paused, “that didn’t come out right.”

We all laughed, me a little nervously. The warning bell rang to start back to class, I scanned the table to be sure I wasn’t leaving a mess and discarded the wrapper Elvis removed from the half sandwich I had given him.

The girls were all pretty much dressed like I was, t-shirt and jeans, and sneaks. “I really am a boy,” I told the girls as we left the lunchroom.

“That trick never works,” one of them said.

They laughed again. Another girl—the one who suggested I fuck my date—added. “You ain’t fooling anyone wearing that transparent top.”

I looked down and almost ran into a pillar. I wasn’t wearing my second thicker layer of t-shirt! Worse, I’d been caught in the misty sprinkle of rain just as I crossed the quad going to the lunchroom and my nipples were clearly visible through the damp cotton.

“Shit,” I said, realizing I had been walking around like this. Elvis had had some reason to think I was a girl. I rescued my glasses again and tried not to panic.

“This were regular school, you would have been sent home to change,” the third girl commented.

I followed them into the girls’ bathroom, I wanted to see what it looked like from in front, and I sure as hell wasn’t going into the boys’ bathroom. The mirrors told the tale. I looked slutty but cute. “It’s like I’m advertising,” I complained.

“Well, you’re not wearing a bra so you are advertising. ’S what my mom always says.”

“Who wants to wear a bra in this heat?” someone mentioned. “Heck, none of us are even wearing makeup.”

“Fuck makeup,” another agreed. Everyone else was making a pitstop in a stall so I entered one, too. I sat down to ‘tinkle’ and even rolled off some toilet paper just so things sounded right. I wasn’t going to give them a reason for suddenly believing me.

“Don’t tell me the boys at school haven’t noticed your looks.”

4. Ponytail

We all came out of the stalls at once, like a routine in some musical. More laughter. Another bell rang, but we were all standing in front of the mirrors, checking cellphones or combing or brushing our hair. I used my fingers, trying to fit in, nervous that we were going to be late getting to class. They didn’t seem concerned.

“Where’s your purse?” one of them asked.

“In my backpack,” I lied, pointing to it on the shelf above the sinks. Without another word, she handed me a big-toothed pink comb.

“What’s your name?” She asked. “Mine’s Pippa.”

“Gary,” I supplied before I could consider that.

“Anyone have a bra in their backpack to loan Carrie?” she asked the other girls. I heard the K-sound instead of the G and cringed. Oops. Was I getting in deeper every minute?

Sure enough, one said, “I do. It’s a t-shirt bra, so it will be perfect.”

“Well, bring it here, Janelle!”

The item was produced, and I traded the comb for the pink bit of cloth. Pink, of course. I went into a stall to take off my damp shirt and put on the bra, which was the stretchy kind that you just pull over your head like a t-shirt. Sis often wore them around the house. I put the damp shirt back on, too. What choice did I have? Oddly, the bra pressing lightly on my what-are-you-doing-on-a-boy breasts felt kind of good.

I left the stall and paused in front of the mirrors again, brushing hair out of my face, and adjusting my glasses. “You can see the color of the bra right through the shirt,” I complained. “My street cred will be shot all to hell.”

That got another laugh. “At least you won’t be advertising,” said Janelle. “You can bring the bra back to me on Monday.”

The third girl, apparently called ‘Emma K’ to distinguish her from all the other Emmas in class, had a red scrunchy, and my unruly light brown hair, curling in the damp, was soon tamed in a high ponytail.

“You need to get this mop styled, girl,” she mentioned. “Cause that’s the last of your ‘cred’ as a boy.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Thanks!” with mock sarcasm.

“You need new glasses, too,” said Pippa. “Those heavy wire rims keep falling off your face.”

I was just being accepted as one of the girls, even in the girls’ bathroom. Even extending to things like loaning bras and getting fashion advice. I wondered what would happen if I asked someone for a Tampon.

I finally made it to class, and no one seemed to even notice that I was five minutes late. The teacher and several of the other students smiled at me, and I sort of…waved back. I don’t know why I did that, just like I didn’t know why they were smiling at me. Weird.

*

I went to both of my afternoon classes, taking tests in science and math and probably flunking them because I was so totally distracted. I could feel the bra I was wearing, the straps across my shoulders. I knew the pink color showed through, and if anyone really looked, they’d know I was wearing a bra. And my ponytail bounced whenever I moved my head. No one said anything or looked at me oddly. Was a bra and a scrunchie all it took to destroy my identity as a boy?

And I had another thought distracting me. Was Milo going to like the way I looked? Waves of anxiety about that made me gasp as if I were running out of air. I held it together somehow. Why did it matter to me? Was I really going to go meet him later?

We got out of class at 2:45, and most everyone headed toward the bus stand. I never rode the school bus unless it was raining hard cause it just wasn’t that far to my house, but I did go by the bus stop on my way home. Somebody called, “Carrie!” from the crowd loading, and I turned because that was almost my name. It was Pippa, waving at me.

I waved back. People were looking at me, smiling. I smiled back and waved harder, feeling pretty idiotic, but now some of the guys were grinning at me. Pippa shouted something, but she had gotten on the bus before I deciphered her meaning. What she said was, “Dump him if he scares you, then run like hell.”

She must have meant Milo. Probably good advice. I wondered if I was going to take it.

*

I needed to go home to get some of my money to go shopping with. Though Mom and Jenny were probably still there and might cause a problem. And, too, I needed to change clothes, since I was still wearing the borrowed bra under my t-shirt. At least I was mostly dry now and not flashing my nipples at everyone, and the color probably didn’t show through as much.

Could I get in the house without anyone noticing? Those two weren’t the most observant types but still. They’d both be working tonight because Friday tips were often the best of the week, as good as Saturday most times. Which meant that at 3 pm, they were probably both still at home. But it wasn’t like I didn’t deal with them all the time, anyway.

The air felt dense and heavy with the heat and humidity. It was eight blocks home, about half a mile, so I had some time to think. I did want a cellphone to replace the one that got stolen, and I felt almost naked without a phone.

Walmart was closer and probably cheaper, but Target sometimes had better stuff, and it was closer to the restaurant Milo had named. At either place, a prepaid Samsung smartphone would probably cost less than $100. Maybe less than fifty if I didn’t insist on Samsung.

Then…I might shop for something pretty. I might. My mind was really divided on that. What did Milo want? Did he want me to show up in a dress? Fuck that. Though I was already wearing a bra, and a ponytail. I’d forgotten the ponytail until it brushed my neck, bouncing when I hopped up a tall curb.

I gasped, trying to breathe out, but it wasn’t happening. I turned into the open gateway at the mobile home park and tried to hurry without hurrying. Maybe I should have ridden the bus. The walk in this heat seemed to have triggered an asthma attack. Or maybe it was stress and anxiety, or both. My breath made roaring noises in my head and almost squeaked when I breathed out. I had a rescue inhaler in the butter keeper in the fridge. I hadn’t had to use one in months, but I needed it now.

We were in Space 37 at the back of the second row. I trudged that direction, struggling to do the breathing routine a social worker had taught me.

“In-2-3-4, Hold-2-3-4-5, Out-2-3-4-5-6.” I counted silently. The Out part was always hardest, but sometimes my breath would hang on the In part, and I would feel like my lungs were being crushed as I tried to Hold for five.

Had to grab at my glasses for about the fifth time as I climbed the steps to our porch. They kept slipping down my nose. I could hear the A/C running inside, miracle of miracles. One of Mom’s regulars was an HVAC guy, and he must have come by to fix it as had been promised. When I opened the door, the cool inside hit me like a spring waterfall, and I coughed from the sudden change in temperature. Already I could breathe better.

I dropped my backpack just inside the door as my nipples reacted to the chill. That was intense, but I needed that inhaler and hurried through to the kitchen. Two puffs and the weight of the sandbags sitting on my chest disappeared. I glanced down, the pointy nipples were visible even thru the bra and t-shirt I was wearing.

Jenny was sitting right where I’d left here at the kitchen table. She looked bored even though she was watching some video on her phone. She smiled when she looked at me and commented, “This weather is no damn good for you, is it, Garry-Larry?”

I shook my head. She was dressed in hot pants and a top that didn’t cover her middle, her hair floofed up so the blonde streaks showed. I guessed that was what she would be wearing to work, but she wouldn’t leave until nearly five unless she had a reason to stop somewhere.

She squinted up at me. “You’re looking exceptionally cute today,” she said. “The ponytail is really you.” She snorted her amusement. “Kinda girly-girl. Is that what you’re going for?”

I’d forgotten the ponytail. “One of the girls at school put my hair up this way.” I started to reach for the scrunchie.

“Leave it,” she advised. “It looks good on you.” She went back to watching her video, which appeared to be of cats playing soccer. She hadn’t noticed the pink bra that was probably still visible through my white t-shit.

“Uh,” I stammered. “Don’t you think it makes me look like a girl?” Did I want her to notice!?

“Newsflash, kiddo, you look like a girl with or without the ponytail,” she snorted. “What do your boyfriends say about how you look?”

“I-uh-I-uh,” I had no idea how to reply to that.

She half-turned around and grinned at me. “Don’t tell me the boys at school haven’t noticed your looks.”

I could feel myself turning red. Elvis seemed to have assumed I was a girl.

“You oughta wear a bit of makeup, honey,” she said. “You’ve just got killer looks that are wasted trying to pass yourself off as a boy."

I didn’t know what to do, so I made a dash to my room, hearing her laughter behind me. She called after me. “I’ve got some stuff you could probably wear!”

I closed my door and moved the little chest I used as a door lock, so no one could burst in on me.

Jenny was acting weird, and now I heard her going into her room. “I know I’ve got something you could wear that would just knock Milo out of his tree.” She laughed. “That’s right, he called and told me he was taking you to dinner tonight and that he wanted you to wear something nice, cause you’re the prettiest girl in the family. Ha!”

She continued. “I told him that it was okay if he took you out, since I’m working tonight.” She grinned. “You little tart! Stealing one of my boyfriends!”

“I’m not!” I protested through the door. I remembered Jenny and Mom talking about co-workers they suspected of trying to steal their “dates.” And the violent things they would do to them. I never heard of more than threats, but who wants to even be threatened?

“It’s okay,” she sounded like she had gone across the hall into her room. “There’s enough of him to share.” Noises like drawers being pulled open followed her giggles. “He’s loaded too. And generous. Found them!” The last sounded triumphant.

“He...he…,” I almost told her about the $400 Milo had already given me. I glanced at my hiding place and realized that if Jenny knew the money existed, she would surely find it.