Dr. Reyes was quiet for a long moment. I could hear the clock on her wall ticking. Somewhere outside, students were laughing. The normal sounds of a normal school day for normal people.
"Let's talk about your work situation," she said finally. "You're still at the Velvet Room?"
"Yeah. Bartender now. Got promoted over the summer."
"Congratulations. What are your hours like?"
"Depends on the night. Usually five to midnight. Sometimes later."
"And you're commuting from Philadelphia before school."
"Yes."
"So you're getting home around... two in the morning?"
"One-thirty if the trains cooperate."
"And waking up at?"
"Four-thirty."
She stared at me. "Isaiah, that's three hours of sleep."
"Two and a half, usually. I can sleep on the train."
"That's not sustainable."
"It's worked so far."
"For how long?"
Three years. Give or take.
I didn't say that. Dr. Reyes looked stressed enough.
"I'm fine. Really. I've got a system."
"Your 'system' is going to land you in a hospital."
"Hospitals are expensive. I'll avoid them."
She didn't laugh. I hadn't really expected her to.
"I have something for you," she said. "Some alternative job opportunities. In case you want to reduce your hours at the bar."
She pulled out a sheet of paper. Printed listings. I scanned them quickly.
Tutoring service. Ten dollars an hour. Laughable.
Library assistant. Eight dollars an hour. Slightly more laughable.
Food service at the campus café. Nine dollars an hour plus tips. Tips at a school café? What tips?
Personal assistant position. Compensation negotiable. Contact through counseling office.
That last one caught my eye.
"Personal assistant?"
"It's a new listing. Came through my office last week." Dr. Reyes's voice was carefully neutral. "A family in the area is looking for someone to help manage their children's schedules. Transportation, errands, that sort of thing."
"What family?"
"I can't disclose that until you express formal interest. Privacy concerns."
Rich family, then. Nobody else hires personal assistants for their kids.
"What's the pay?"
"As I said, negotiable. But from what I understand, they're willing to offer substantial compensation for the right candidate."
"Define substantial."
"Enough to make your train tickets look like pocket change."
I stared at her. Dr. Reyes's expression gave nothing away.
A job that pays enough to make a thousand dollars a month look small. What kind of family is this? What kind of work?
"Sounds too good to be true."
"Most good opportunities do." She slid the paper toward me. "Think about it. If you're interested, let me know by the end of the week. I'll arrange an interview."
I took the paper. Folded it. Put it in my pocket.
"I'll think about it."
"Good." She smiled. First genuine one of the conversation. "Now, on to the rest of your schedule. Your work-study placement this year is in the library, same as last year. Ms. Chen requested you specifically. Something about you being 'the only student who actually shelves books correctly.'"
"She's very particular about the Dewey Decimal System."
"She threatened to curse the next person who misshelved a biography in the fiction section."
"That tracks."
We went through the rest of the administrative details. Class schedules, academic deadlines, college application timelines. Normal guidance counselor stuff. I answered on autopilot, my mind still stuck on that job listing.
Personal assistant. Substantial compensation. Rich family with kids who need managing.
The meeting ended at 12:47. Thirteen minutes until my next class. I walked through the hallway, past clusters of students eating lunch, past couples sharing earbuds, past the normal teenage experience that I'd never quite been part of.
My phone buzzed.
FELIX: where are you FELIX: i found the most beautiful woman in the world FELIX: shes in the cafeteria FELIX: eating a salad FELIX: who eats salad that beautifully FELIX: ISAIAH
ME: Busy.
FELIX: WITH WHAT FELIX: its lunch FELIX: lunch is sacred FELIX: lunch is for EATING and OBSERVING BEAUTIFUL WOMEN
ME: Had a meeting with Dr. Reyes.
FELIX: oh FELIX: everything okay?
I considered how to answer that.
No commute subsidy. Three hours of sleep for the foreseeable future. A mysterious job offer that sounds like a scam. And I'm pretty sure one of the Valentine sisters has put a hit out on me.
ME: Fine.
FELIX: that doesn't sound fine
ME: It's fine, Felix.
FELIX: ... FELIX: ramen after school? FELIX: my treat
ME: I have work.
FELIX: tomorrow then
ME: Maybe.
FELIX: i'll take a maybe FELIX: now get down here FELIX: the beautiful salad woman is leaving and you're missing HISTORY
I put my phone away.
The hallway was emptying out now. Lunch period was ending. I passed by a window that overlooked the courtyard below. Central Park was visible in the distance, green against the September sky.
I thought about Iris. About the scholarship application due in February. About four more years of trains and late nights and the constant low hum of exhaustion that had become my default state.
UPenn is a good school. Close to home. I can get a job, keep supporting us. Iris can go to Hartwell. She can have the opportunities I'm fighting for.
That's the plan.
That's always been the plan.
The bell rang. I was going to be late to class again.
I shoved the paper back in my pocket and started walking.
I'll think about it.
Later.
Right now, I have AP English, and apparently Ms. Vance is "unsettlingly good at detecting sleeping students."
Priorities.
I made it to class with four seconds to spare.
Ms. Vance gave me a look as I slid into my seat. The look that said she knew I'd been somewhere, doing something, and she'd be keeping an eye on me.
I gave her my best "I'm definitely paying attention" expression.
She didn't buy it.
In the front row, I could see a familiar head of wine-red hair. Two of them, actually. Cassidy and Harlow were both in this class, sitting next to each other like matching bookends.
Cassidy glanced back at me. The death glare was still present. She'd maintained it for four hours now. Impressive stamina.
Harlow, noticing her sister's distraction, turned too. Her face lit up when she saw me.
She waved.
Cassidy's eye twitched.
Two Valentine sisters. Both in my English class. One wants to be my friend. One wants me dead.
Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
Ms. Vance started talking about the syllabus. I pulled out my notebook.
Opened to a blank page.
Wrote one line.
Figure out the catch.
Then I closed my eyes and started calculating train schedules in my head.
Forty dollars saved per week if I walk instead of taking the subway from Penn Station.
That's a hundred and sixty a month.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
The paper in my pocket rustled as I shifted in my seat.
Substantial compensation.
What would it take?
Ms. Vance said something about essays. I wrote it down without processing.
Whatever the catch is, I'll handle it.
I always do.