Kid Power by Susan Beth Pfeffer Page A

gotten it because she knows more about gardening than I do.”
    â€œThen why don’t you offer her the job?” Dad asked. “If she’d be good at it anyway …”
    â€œBecause it’s my job!” I shouted. “I’m the one who made the posters.”
    â€œWell, actually I made the posters,” Carol said.
    Sometimes I really hate Carol. “It was my idea,” I said. “I’m the one who’s been working all summer to earn money for a bike, not Lisa. Why should I just give her a job?”
    â€œBecause she’s your friend,” Dad said. “And her friendship is worth more than a silly job. More than any money you might earn from it.”
    â€œYou’re just saying that because you don’t like me working,” I said. “You want me to give up all my jobs.”
    â€œI don’t like you going around the whole neighborhood crying poverty, I admit that,” he said.
    â€œI did that once,” I said. “Before I knew you didn’t want me to do it. I wish you’d forget it. The people who call me now are perfect strangers.”
    â€œI’m not crazy about you working for perfect strangers either,” he said. “There are a lot of strange people around. You might get into some kind of trouble.”
    â€œYou don’t like it when I work for people we know. You don’t like it when I work for strangers,” I said. “You just don’t like it that I work.”
    â€œNo I don’t,” he said. “I don’t see the point to it. If you want the bike that much, we’ll just buy you one. There’s no reason for you to spend your childhood working all the time.”
    â€œIt’s not bad practice,” Mom said. “After all, most women do have jobs nowadays.”
    â€œYou don’t seem to anymore,” he said.
    â€œNow what’s that supposed to mean?” Mom asked.
    â€œYou haven’t left the house in three days,” he said. “You haven’t even checked the want ads out. All you keep doing is muttering about your feet.”
    â€œThey hurt!” Mom shouted. “You try getting a job this time of year and see how your feet feel about it.”
    â€œYou haven’t even made any phone calls,” he said. “What’s the matter, couldn’t take the rejection?”
    â€œNo, I couldn’t,” Mom said. “Besides, why are you suddenly so desperate for me to get a job? It seems to me it took quite a while to convince you that I should even go back to school for my master’s.”
    â€œThat was different,” Dad said. “The kids were little…”
    â€œYou don’t have to use the same old excuses all over again,” Mom said. “I remember each and every one of them.”
    â€œI suppose I’ll get to listen to a whole new batch this summer,” Dad said. “‘My feet hurt. It’s hot outside. Nobody’s hiring anyway.’” He mimicked Mom’s voice.
    â€œThey’re all true,” Mom said. “My feet do hurt. It is hot outside. And nobody is hiring.”
    â€œIf you wanted a job bad enough, you’d find one,” Dad said.
    â€œDon’t be so simplistic!” Mom cried and left. We could hear her stomping her bad feet all the way upstairs.
    Carol sat at the picnic table, carefully examining the sky. I tried to sit very still and disappear, but I accidentally moved my head and found Dad staring straight at me. He didn’t have to say a word for me to know that somehow he blamed me for everything that was happening. And I almost couldn’t blame him for blaming me.

Chapter Six
    Mom spent Sunday making a point of reading every single want ad in the classified section. The really bad ones she read out loud to Dad, who grumbled until it was time for a baseball game. He turned one on as soon as he possibly could and refused to even pretend to listen to anybody