She's So Money Read Online Free Page B

it with my hip on my way out, making it fall off the table.
    Good thing the trash can was there to catch it.

chapter three
    Thanks to Camden bailing early, I was able to finish all of my homework before my restaurant shift even started, and thanks to the speediness of machine test scanning, I found out I’d gotten an A– on my history test. Fine, so I’d been overly paranoid . . . but any senior year G.P.A. slippage could jeopardize the whole merit based scholarship thing, so it wasn’t like I could really slack off. At all.
    And, as if I didn’t have enough to worry about, my parents picked that night to spring the news that they were tacking a trade show onto their weekend trip to Washington, D.C. They’d been planning on driving down for a distant cousin’s wedding for months, and it had been more or less agreed upon that I was going to be in charge while they were gone. But now that the trip was two days longer, they suddenly seemed wholly and completely convinced that I was going to screw something up.
    “So why don’t we just shut down while you’re gone, and then you won’t have to worry about it?” I asked as I sorted silverware behind the bar. A little vacation sounded pretty damn good to me.
    “We cannot afford to give up five days of revenue,” my mom snapped. “It is too bad, actually,” she added in a gentler tone. “It would be nice for you to see a real Thai engagement party and wedding, but with school for you and Nat . . .”
    “We could go if we flew,” I suggested.
    “We cannot afford that either,” my mom sighed. She then launched into what was to become a full evening of making sure that my head contained all the necessary knowledge for keeping a restaurant afloat, including the avoidance of burning, flooding, explosion, implosion, and disintegration. I was setting up the table candles when she started with the trivia questions.
    “What’s item N4?” she asked, staring at me expectantly. I don’t know why she bothered; I’ve had the entire menu memorized since I was six.
    “Drunken Noodles,” I answered.
    She looked pleased that I’d answered so quickly. “Which of the soups can be made vegan?”
    “Only the Gang Jeud Woon Sen,” I said.
    “What do you do if somebody complains that their meal is not good?”
    “Apologize and offer them some free green tea ice cream.”
    “Wrong!” she exclaimed. “You smile and apologize and offer them ice cream!”
    “Okay, Mom.”
    “But only if they look like they might come back. If not, they can go to hell.”
    “ Okay , Mom.”
    Satisfied for the time being, she went back to the kitchen to continue her last minute supply check. I looked around. The dining room was still empty and it was already six thirty. I crossed my fingers for an easy evening.
    “Hey,” Nat whispered, appearing at my shoulder from out of nowhere. “When Mom and Dad are gone, can I drive?”
    My parents barely let me drive. When they took me to get my license on my sixteenth birthday, they promptly told me that I could only use the car in dire emergencies, like if both of them suddenly got all their limbs amputated. “Not blind, though. If we go blind, we still drive. You just direct us where to go.”
    “Yeah, you can drive,” I told Nat.
    His eyes lit up. “Sweet!” He gleefully punched the air in front of his face.
    “Although I guess I should ride with you.” He only had his learner’s permit and was supposed to drive with a parent in the car for it not to be illegal, so we’d be breaking some laws anyway.
    “Sucks!” he said.
    I shrugged. “Better than nothing.” He had to agree with that.
    Finally, a few customers came in, and I took the ponytail elastic off my wrist and put my hair up as my mom sat them in my section. A few other groups followed during the next hour or so, but they were small—twos and threes—and nicely spaced out, so we never got the usual mid-evening rush. It was my easiest night of work in months, actually . . .