Finding Balance by B. E. Baker

Author:B. E. Baker [Baker, B. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Purple Puppy Publishing

7

Anica

I hate when I forget to turn off the ringer on my phone. Although, it’s my own fault for picking such an obnoxious ringtone. I finally roll over and answer.

“Hello, is this Miss Anica Maggard?”

I wipe my eyes. Asking for me by my full name is never a good sign. “Uh, yes. Who’s this?”

“My name is Katie.”

She’s way, way too perky for. . .I blink and rub at my eyes until I can make out the bedside clock. Ten-forty. Huh. I guess it’s not that early to most people. “Hi Katie. What do you want?”

“Oh, I hope I didn’t call at an inconvenient time.”

That’s a lie. She doesn’t care whether it’s a bad time for me. Calls are always inconvenient, so I don’t bother easing her mind about it. People react oddly to silence.

“Are you still there?”

I grunt.

“Okay, well, I’m currently a student at Princeton.”

I groan. It’s some idiotic student my alma mater has tasked with trying to pry money out of me. Which is a complete waste of time as, even if I cared to donate to an institution with a twenty-five billion dollar endowment, I have nothing to give. “Well, you’ve got some bad luck. Because you managed to find probably the only alumnus from your esteemed institution without a penny to her name.”

“Oh.”

Ha. I’ve made her feel uncomfortable. Good. Shiny new pennies need to know the feeling every now and then. “And let me give you some free advice while I have you on the phone.”

“Um, okay.”

“Don’t major in English and don’t try and write the great American novel, or you might end up just as pathetic as me.” I hang up. I try to go back to sleep, but someone’s vacuuming outside my door. Even with a pillow over my head, I can’t quite drown it out.

I guess it’s my own fault. I’m stuck in this house with two little kids and a manic pregnant lady for seven more days until my parents get back. Even when I told them I was in town, they didn’t offer me a key. What kind of parents don’t let their daughter stay in— Well, if it’s not my childhood home since they sold that, at least it’s my parents’ current home.

Finally, I wake up, take a shower, and brush my teeth. Before I’ve even finished drying my hair, someone’s knocking at the door, probably wondering when she can clean it. “Um, I’ll be out in a minute.” Although, Luke’s cleaning lady might not understand English. “Un minuto,” I say. “Muy pronto.”

“Excuse me?” Mary’s voice is even more annoyed than usual.

I close my eyes. I can’t catch a break. “Um, sorry. I heard the vacuum. I thought you might be the cleaning lady.”

“I don’t have a cleaning lady.”

Of course she doesn’t. Why would superwoman need a cleaning lady when she’s two weeks away from having a baby? “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize that. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I was about to meet Amy for lunch at the school, but it occurred to me that you might want to go.

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