Making the Play

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

A car slamming into my face at six a.m. is not how I planned on starting my day.

I lie in my twin bed in my childhood bedroom and ignore it. Maybe he will go back to sleep?

“Vroom-vroom.” My nephew’s Matchbox car tickles my forehead again.

“Argh!” With a playful shout, I sit up and start tickling him. His little belly contracts under my fingers as he giggles. “Say the magic words and the tickle torture stops!”

“Aunt Nattie smells like stinky socks!” he yells, squealing with delight.

“No, those aren’t the magic words!” I tickle relentlessly, trying to get to the backs of his knees—the sweet spot.

“Aunt Nattie eats boogers!” His grin threatens to split his face in two. Even if it’s early, it’s a fun way to wake up. At four, Jace is probably my favorite person on earth.

“How could you forget the magic words? ‘Aunt Nattie is amazing.’ How hard is that to say? All you have to do is—” But I stop talking as my foot encounters a wet spot in my bed. Uh-oh.

I let go of Jace and scramble away from it. “Uh, buddy. I won’t be mad, but did you wet the bed?”

His face screws up in horror, eyes flashing with indignation. “No! I’m too big for that.”

“Then why is the bed wet?” I pat the sheets, and yeah, they’re damp. I take an experimental sniff, but the sharp tang of urine doesn’t hit my nose. Small mercies, at least.

“Did you spill your sippy cup again?”

“Nope.” He points to it on my nightstand, covered in Paw Patrol characters, lid in place.

“Then what—”

“It’s dripping.” He points to the ceiling. It’s hard to tell through the weak morning sunlight that peeks in around the gap in my broken blinds, but it looks like there’s a darker patch right above my foot and—

Yep. Another drop lands on my leg. Lightning quick, I stand up on the bed.

“This doesn’t mean you’re allowed to do this,” I tell Jace, pointing my finger. His brown eyes, the same shade as mine, track my inspection.

Peering up in the dim light, I stretch my five-foot, ten-inch frame and inspect it. The plaster is puckered, and water gathers like a stalagmite—or is it a stalactite? I can’t remember the difference. I guess that’s why I’m majoring in business, not something useless like geology. If I really need to know, I can Google it. Right now, I’m more interested in what’s going on and how to fix it.

“Okay, buddy.” I sigh. “I’m not sure what’s wrong but grab your stuff and head back to your room.”

Jace snags his threadbare baby blanket and his favorite stuffed animal and pads out the door.

“And don’t wake up your mom,” I whisper. He nods and puts a finger to his lips, then disappears down the hallway.

I glance around my bedroom, and then move my laptop off my nightstand and relocate it to my desk so it’s out of the splash zone. I scheduled a blog post for this morning, and I don’t want anything to interfere with it.

After throwing a ratty sweatshirt over my sweatpants and pajama shirt, I head out to the living room.

“Mom?” I keep my voice low as I turn to the kitchen. Our house is small, barely 1200 square feet. Three bedrooms, one bath, an open living room and a cramped eat-in kitchen. Built in the fifties, it’s cute and compact. If we had the money to flip it, it could be stylish. Unfortunately, it’s a little worn these days, and there’s not much chance of that changing soon. Homey is good, too.

Maybe once I graduate and get a good job, I can save for renovations. My mom’s smile as she sits on a new couch would make the sacrifices worthwhile. I’m willing to put in the extra hours as a newbie accountant next year to move up the ranks. I won’t have time for much else, but I’d love to give my family financial security. They deserve it after everything we’ve been through.

Hands wrapped around her coffee mug, my mother looks up from our scarred wooden table. Dark circles stand out under her blue eyes and deep lines bracket her mouth. Her hair, once blonde, is now entirely silver and cut in a no-nonsense bob that skims her chin. She’s only forty-five, but the last ten years have prematurely aged her.

She swallows. “Natalie, is everything okay?”

My face must give away that I have bad news. I hate to ruin her morning and burden her, but I don’t have a choice.

I bite my lip. “There’s a leak in my room. Can you grab a bucket?”

She jumps up and rushes to get the one under the sink that holds cleaning supplies, muttering under her breath. Praying, probably. After emptying it, she hands it to me.

“Let’s see it.”

She follows me down the short hallway into my bedroom, and we inspect my ceiling. Shoulders slumped, she shakes her head.

Keeping her voice low, she asks, “Can you help me move the bed?”

There’s not much extra space, but we shift my nightstand over and haul the bed out of the splash zone. I hope our huffing and puffing doesn’t wake my sister or dad, both still sleeping in the other rooms.

After we get the bucket situated, my mom wipes her brow and jerks her head towards the door. “We need to check the roof.”

We wrestle the wooden ladder out of the garage, and I convince her I should be the one to clamber up while she holds it and spots me. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but the broken tree branch leaning against the roof and the missing shingles aren’t a good sign.

I narrate what I see to my mom. Her deep sigh resonates in my chest even from six feet above her. I climb down, and her knuckles are white as she holds the ladder.

“Maybe insurance will cover it.” Glancing at her watch, she frowns. “I can call before work.”

“Okay.”

I get the ladder jammed back into our packed garage while she heads inside. But when I get back to the kitchen, she shakes her head.

“Apparently our roof is so old it’s out of coverage.”

“Seriously? Why do we even have insurance if they don’t have to pay for this?” Sounds like a convenient loophole to me.

My mom leans her hip against the table and her frown lines deepen. “It gets worse. A new roof is close to ten thousand dollars.” My stomach plummets, but she’s still talking. “And I can’t get a roofer to take the job without ten percent down.”

It’s only a thousand dollars to get them started, but it might as well be a million. Because we don’t have extra money lying around. Already too deep in debt from medical bills to even think about putting it on the credit card, I do some mental calculations. I just paid for tuition, book fees, and car insurance. My bank account can’t handle that hit, either.

I swallow and grab her hand. “I’ll help. We’ve got this. I’ll beg for more hours at The Silver Spoon. My longevity has to mean something there.”

She squeezes my hand in return. “I’ll ask Cara if she has any catering spots open. We can trade off being home for Jace and make it work.”

My sister Sarah works second shift at the Caterpillar factory in town. She’s on the line, helping to make the massive engines that go in their land-moving machines. If it’s yellow and at a construction site, part of it was probably made in my hometown of Lafayette, Indiana. It’s a good job, but it makes caring for Jace tricky. He goes to daycare while Sarah sleeps, and then my mom and I make sure we’re home in the evenings with him. Of course, my dad is home, too, but he doesn’t have the energy to watch Jace like he needs.

We also take turns getting my dad to his dialysis appointments every two days. Between school and family commitments, my calendar is booked. But I need to do more. It’s my family—and who else will? We rely on each other.

I force a smile and inject a reassuring note in my voice. “It’s just a bump in the road. We’ll get it patched up in no time.”

After getting Jace dressed and dropped off at daycare, I throw on my most professional outfit (from Goodwill) and hightail it over to campus. After classes, I swing by the Silver Spoon. I’ve worked part time at the old-fashioned ice cream parlor since high school, and it’s a decent job. Reliable, and I’ve been faithful.

“Todd!” I greet my manager when I open the door, bells dinging as it closes. “How’s business today?”

“Hey, Natalie! It’s kinda slow, but that’s expected on a weekday afternoon. Do you want to grab a bite?” He grins and adjusts the bill of the red cap he wears over his sandy hair.

“I’m good, thanks. I was actually hoping you could give me more hours?”

I try to walk the line between eager and desperate, smiling but not looking crazy.

But Todd’s face falls. “I wish. You’re a great employee. We don’t want to lose you, but we’ve hired some other college students since school started. The schedule is maxed.”

“Okay, no worries.” I keep my tone positive and up-beat. “I appreciate the hours I have. And I like working for you.”

“No problem, Natalie. See you this weekend?”

“Yep, I’ll be here.”

Tossing a smile over my shoulder, I head out. It’s a minor setback, but not the end of the world. Harrison is a big campus; there must be other possibilities.Pulling out my laptop in my car, I scour the Career Services job boards. The work-study jobs are already assigned, but the college needs thousands of employees to keep things running. Unfortunately, it’s the end of September, and there’s only one job available. The time-stamp says it was posted this morning, so maybe I’ll get lucky.

I apply online and attach my resume, but I really need this job. So after my business marketing class, I head across campus on foot to the Athletic Director’s office. I’ve never been inside before, but it’s a big enough landmark that I’m familiar with the location.

I finger the yellow Post-It I made for myself with the details. It’s a job working for the Athletic Department Social Media Director. Between my business classes and my secret fashion blog, I can figure it out.

I could figure out anything to get a job right now.

When I woke up this morning, I thought I was just overcoming my normal worries. A dad with polycystic kidney disease, a mom who can barely afford the mortgage. Senior level business classes and the pressure of finding a job after I graduate. A secret blog my family doesn’t approve of. A sister who’s barely around and checked out when she is home. A nephew who won’t stay in his own bed and always ends up hogging mine.

But the roof leak is an unexpected curve-ball. I thought The Silver Spoon would be my easy answer, but no dice. It’s a good thing I’m not afraid of hard work. Nothing that a little determination can’t solve. I refuse to let this setback get me down.