On a Slippery Slope by Melody Fitzpatrick Page A

dad?”
    â€œNope, I’m looking for work.”
    â€œYou’re a little young to work here.” Andy chuckles.
    â€œI just turned fourteen!” I protest, grinning. “Actually, I’m just looking for babysitting jobs. I thought I’d post an ad on your bulletin board. Would that be okay?”
    â€œUmm … normally I would say go for it, absolutely, only Frank’s daughter, Chloe — you might know her from school — gets pretty much all the babysitting jobs around here.”
    â€œAll the babysitting?”
    â€œShe actually runs a little business. When she can’t do a job herself, she has a list of kids that she calls on. If one of them does the job, she gets a little cut of their pay. She has business cards and everything. Hey, I’m sure she’d put you on her list if you asked her.”
    I frown. “Um, thanks, but I don’t think so.”
    â€œFeel free to put your ad up, anyway. It couldn’ t hurt. ”
    â€œOkay.” I sigh. This isn ’ t turning out to be such a great plan after all.
    As I make my way to the staff room, I notice a sign on the wall that says GREEN ROOM . I can’t help myself; I have to look in. Who is this important woman in power?
    I open the door and stick my head in. I see a lady, about my mom’s age, wearing a cream-coloured business suit, sitting on the couch, reading a novel. She looks up and closes her book. “Hello.”
    â€œHi,” I reply.
    â€œDo you work here?” she asks.
    I laugh. “No, but can I help you with something?”
    â€œI sure hope so. I’m dying of thirst. Do you know where a person might get a bottle of water around here?”
    â€œDid you check in the fridge?” I point to a big stainless-steel refrigerator against the wall.
    â€œEmpty …” She shrugs.
    â€œReally? Oh … that’s not good.”
    â€œWell, I arrived a little early, so I’m thinking they probably have something on the way.”
    â€œYeah.” I nod, knowing she’s wrong. “What was it you asked for?”
    â€œOh, I asked for salad … you know, watching my diet, trying to be healthy … blah, blah, blah.” She laughs. “But what I would really love, I mean, give my right arm for, is a huge slice of plain old cheese pizza.”

    â€œCheese pizza?” I smile. “I might just be able to help you with that. Give me a minute,” I say, holding up one finger. “I’ll be right back.”
    I dart into the staff room, past my dad who is having a coffee at the table, pull open the fridge door, and check the stock of bottled water. There’ s lots. But I can’t just give her plain old water — she’s a senator. I have the perfect idea, but first I need money for pizza.
    â€œHey Dad, can you spot me ten bucks?”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œNo time to explain, just trust me; it’ s important! ”
    â€œOkay,” he says digging in his wallet. “All I have is a twenty.”
    â€œAwesome,” I say, grabbing it.
    With cash in hand, I take off out of the building, run across the street and into Mama Mia’s Pizzeria and Sub Shop where they make the most incredible pizza, or so I’ve been told.
    â€œPlease tell me you have some slices ready,” I say, panting and out of breath.
    It smells delicious in here, like, unbelievable!
    â€œI have some coming out of the oven right now as a matter of fact,” a friendly looking man with a thick Italian accent says to me from behind the counter.
    â€œPlease, please, please tell me they’re cheese.”
    â€œYou’re in luck today, bella . That’s what I have. It’s our specialty!”
    â€œPerfect! I’ll take two slices. And can you throw in a couple cucumber slices, too?”
    â€œCucumber slices?” the man asks, confused.
    â€œYeah, just two … no, make that four.”
    â€œ Um