Fireworks

9

The next morning, I'm up early enough to catch Mom in the kitchen before she disappears to her office for the rest of the day to work. I woke up early for this specific conversation in hopes that no one has had the chance to put my mom in a bad mood yet.

"Hey," she mindlessly says while pouring a mug of coffee.

I wring my hands together nervously before saying, "Hey, mom. I was hoping we could talk about something really quick before you go to work."

She glances over at me and I curse myself for not changing into something business casual. She's in a pencil skirt and blouse for work, and under her calculative eyes, I feel like I'm more of a client than a daughter, pitching an idea.

"I'm listening." she laments before going back to her coffee.

I clear my throat and say what I rehearsed last night in the mirror with confidence, knowing I have to sell it. "I've recently been offered an advantageous business position at a local establishment for my work ethic and ingenuity. I know that this summer we agreed I would be studying and preparing for college applications, but this job is extremely flexible and would never hinder any previous obligations I'd predetermined. I spoke my terms with the owner and she agreed that my hours would ultimately be decided by my compatriots and I for maximum flexibility. I've printed off a copy of my hours to look over if you require them. This job would not only be an ideal addition to my transcript, but would also teach me the responsibility of financial independence and the importance of workplace communication. I was hoping that you'd be on board." I say with an air of credence I most definitely am faking.

While she listens she stirs a small spoonful of sugar into her coffee and squints at me.

After a moment I add on, "Please."

She smiles a little and looks me up and down, once again making me feel very subpar in my spandex and oversized tee shirt I wore to sleep. At least I had brushed my hair and teeth.

The moment of compilation drags on for what feels like forever, and she at last says, "I agree to these terms. I'd like to add a clause or two, but as long as you're sure the establishment will be cooperative and pose as an asset to your future, I'm fine with it."

I try to keep my excitement from showing. Everything that had just come out of my mouth was total bull shit, but she didn't need to know that the fine establishment I would be spending my summer at was a half-assed fireworks tent that sells illegal pyrotechnics behind the trailer in the back.

I nod, masking my face into serious contemplation. "Your clauses?"

"You save seventy percent of your income and keep the remaining thirty as spending money. You continue your lessons with Sammy once a week, and you will continue to practice for no less than two hours a day. I don't care how late or early your shifts start. And most importantly, the studying doesn't stop until we get your scores back. If you got the 36 you can take a brief break. If not, you'll continue and sign up for the next proctor date."

My heart sinks a little, but I don't let it show. I just nod once and say, "Thank you." Did she realize how difficult it was to get a 36 on the ACT? It really wasn't even based on your own score as an individual, the grade is based on the testing group's average performance comparatively.

Well, either way, it wouldn't hurt to keep studying. And I had no problem with saving my money, I buy nothing besides books and food anyways. As for Sammy, I never planned on stopping his lessons. I liked him, and would sometimes even babysit him for a day while his parents are away on business.

She nods and says, "Sure. There's probably some stuff in the fridge to make breakfast if you want."

With that, she walks down the hall towards her office, and I let my posture relax a bit.

Mission complete.