On a Slippery Slope (7 page)

“Harvey!” I hear the lady yell angrily. “It's happened again!
Another
false alarm! This is getting out of control!”

Ivy picks a petal out of her hair, looks around suspiciously, and nods in agreement with her aunt. “We really have to get that checked, Uncle Harvey,” she says.

Phew!
I
'
m off the hook.

You'd think I'd be feeling on top of the world right now, right? I mean I just dodged getting caught “shoplifting” by the worst person ever — Ivy — who would have, without a doubt, made sure I was pegged as a
law-breaking
low-life
felon for the rest of my days. Now don't get me wrong, I really do appreciate that I got off super lucky, but I still have to face the fact that I only have a hundred bucks in my bank account, when I need, like, a kazillion more. Why do my problems always involve money?

Pizza with Cucumbers

S
chool
was pretty tame today. Chloe wasn't there, so without her partner in crime, Ivy left me alone the entire day — a happy surprise, to say the least. So, aside from the fact that Gabby talked nonstop all day about our upcoming shopping spree (which I know won't happen because of an extreme shortage of cash), it was a pretty good day. Especially in the computer lab, where I created an amazingly perfect babysitting ad that I'm positive is going to get me tons of jobs in no time flat!

Hannah Smart
'
s Quality Babysitting Service

Stuck without a babysitter? Well, not for long!

I am a motivated, dependable, nurturing,
fun-loving
, encouraging, energetic, and prompt
child-care
provider who is fully trained and certified in Advanced First Aid and CPR. If you are looking for quality care for your children, then look no further! You can count on me for all of your babysitting needs. I am available most days after 3:30 and most evenings until 9:00. (Much longer on the weekends.)

Your children deserve the best!

That
'
s me: Hannah Smart!

So, don'
t hesitate! Message me now to avoid disappointment at:

[email protected]

I can't wait to put this ad up at Dad's office! Almost everyone he works with has kids. If they need a sitter, they can just call me!

I haven't really sat down and figured it out yet, but I'm hoping that if I babysit every day after school, some nights and most weekends, combined with my allowance and what I have in the bank, I might just be able to save enough to buy
some
gear in time for the trip in March. Fingers crossed.

I walk into the Channel Nine building and see Andy right away. She looks panicked as usual. She must have the hardest job ever!

“Hi, Hannah,” she says looking up from a stack of
Post-its
littering the reception desk. “I know it's here somewhere. Gosh … what did I do with it?”

“Do with what?”

“A list … an extremely important list.”

“Can I help?”

“Oh …” she says, gravely, “I don't think so, Hannah, but thanks.”

“So, what's on the list?”

“Well,” she says, frowning as her eyes dart from left to right, “we have a very special guest in the green room.”

“The green room?”

“It's like a fancy waiting room where our guests go before they are interviewed.”

“Cool. So what's the problem?”

“It's very important, Hannah, to make sure our guests are happy before they go on air. So, we ask them to provide us with a list of things they want waiting for them in the green room for when they arrive. Sometimes, it's a snack, sometimes a meal, and sometimes it's just a cup of tea. Regardless, we always,
ALWAYS
make sure we have exactly what our guests want so they're relaxed and comfortable before we interview them.”

“So, do you need me to get food?”

“The problem is I lost the paper with all the info, and our guest wants some pretty specific stuff. I just can't go in there and ask her to tell me what it is she wants
again
. She's a sen­ator, Hannah. We're interviewing her for part of our Women in Power segments.

I nod. “Sounds important.”

“She is,” Andy agrees, “and honestly, I would look like an unprofessional
mess-up
if I went in there right now, at the last minute, and asked her to tell me
again
what she
already
told me she wanted. I have to find that paper, Hannah.”

“I wish I could help you.”

“Me too, sweetie.” She smiles. “So, you're looking for your dad?”

“Nope, I'm looking for work.”

“You're a little young to work here.” Andy chuckles.

“I 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?”

“Umm … 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.”

“All the babysitting?”

“She 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.”

“Feel free to put your ad up, anyway. It couldn'
t hurt.
”

“Okay.” 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.”

“Hi,” I reply.

“Do you work here?” she asks.

I laugh. “No, but can I help you with something?”

“I sure hope so. I'm dying of thirst. Do you know where a person might get a bottle of water around here?”

“Did you check in the fridge?” I point to a big
stainless-steel
refrigerator against the wall.

“Empty …” She shrugs.

“Really? Oh … that's not good.”

“Well, I arrived a little early, so I'm thinking they probably have something on the way.”

“Yeah.” I nod, knowing she's wrong. “What was it you asked for?”

“Oh, 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.”

“Cheese 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.

“Hey Dad, can you spot me ten bucks?”

“What for?”

“No time to explain, just trust me; it'
s important!
”

“Okay,” he says digging in his wallet. “All I have is a twenty.”

“Awesome,” 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.

“Please tell me you have some slices ready,” I say, panting and out of breath.

It smells delicious in here, like, unbelievable!

“I 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.

“Please, please, please tell me they're cheese.”

“You're in luck today,
bella
. That's what I have. It's our specialty!”

“Perfect! I'll take two slices. And can you throw in a couple cucumber slices, too?”

“Cucumber slices?” the man asks, confused.

“Yeah, just two … no, make that four.”

“
Um
…” The man raises his eyebrows. “In a cup okay?”

“Sounds great.”

With a pizza box in one hand and a tiny cup of cucumber slices in the other, I tear back across the street. Rodrigo at reception looks up and motions with his hand to … slowwww down. Realizing I must look like a frantic maniac, I put on the brakes and proceed to walk to the staff room, where I check my hair in the mirror, grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water from the fridge, pop in a couple of cucumber slices, and slide the
piping-hot
pizza onto a plate. I put it all on a silver tray sitting beside the microwave and add a stack of napkins … pizza is messy!

“
Still hungry?
” I ask the woman as I walk back into the green room.

“
Oh my gosh, hungry? You don
't even know.”

“Well how about a nice hot slice of cheese pizza?” I place the steaming tray on the coffee table in front of her.

Her eyes zoom in on the plate and she squeals with delight. Wow, she must really like pizza!

“You, young lady, are a lifesaver,” she says as she bites down on her slice. “This has to be the cheesiest — mmmm — gooiest, most delicious pizza I have ever had in my — mmmm — life! And I am not kidding,” she adds, licking her lips.

“I'm so sorry, Senator Bradley,” Andy exclaims, suddenly bursting into the room. “Your salad is on the …” Andy stops
mid-sentence
as she spies the huge slice of
cheese-smothered
pizza in Senator Bradley's mouth. “Oh!” she exclaims, as a look of pure dread registers on her face. “Your salad
should
have been here waiting for you. I'm usually on top of these things. I don't know what happened. I've really messed up. There'
s no excuse.
”

“Are you kidding? Salad wouldn't have cut it today, Andy. With two flights, three meetings, and four cab rides, I haven't eaten in probably seventeen hours. I'm starving, and this pizza tastes like heaven.” Senator Bradley laughs and takes another bite.