Page 17 of Grown

“You know all this extra hair... is gonna cost you.”

“How much?”

“Fifty dollars. Same as last week.”

I smirk. “You can add it to my tab.”

“Daddy!” a voice shrieks.

We turn to the open bathroom door, into the immediate kitchen, at Destiny in her booster seat, her mouth full of mashed potatoes.

Daddy turns off the clippers. “Yes, baby girl.”

“Mo’ fish stick?”

“Finish what’s on your plate first. Eyes bigger than your stomach.”

Pearl hops up from the table, running by, her mini locs flopping.

“Aye,” he calls. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She shrugs. “I’m done.”

“You ain’t done if your plate still on the table. Ain’t no maid service around these parts.”

“It’s your turn to do the dishes anyway,” Phoenix adds from, well, somewhere close.

“Is not!”

“How about you both do them,” Daddy says.

Pearl and Phoenix groan together the way only twins can before they start clearing the table.

“Daddy, I need more juice,” Destiny says, waving her empty cup at him.

With Mom working late and Daddy having a rare Friday off, I’m sure he’s not used to hearing his name so much. He rubs his head.

“Lawd,” he grumbles. “Shea, can you pour your sister some juice, please?”

Shea nods, busy FaceTiming with a friend from school, gossiping about some boy.

“Is this what y’all do in high school now? FaceTime with each other even though you see each other all day?” He chuckles, clicking on the clippers. “Don’t remember you ever doing that.”

I stare at him in the mirror, his eyes focused as he lines me up.

“Daddy,” I say with a measured voice. “Can I have a car? Please?”

Daddy’s head snaps up, returning my stare.

“I’ve done the research,” I continue before he can fix his mouth to say no. “We can lease a car for two hundred and twenty-eight dollars a month. I’ll be able to help with the Littles. Take Shea and me to school.”

Daddy sighs and shuts off the clippers. The walls of the bathroom shrink.

“It’s just not something we can swing right now. With tuition, Will and Willow dues, summer camp next year... we’re stretched thin. Plus, the union might be striking soon.Which would mean... a lot of changes around here.”

I’ve heard Mommy and Daddy talk about it. A union strike would mean no pay, and strikes can go on for months, maybe years. Shea and I would have to drop out of Parkwood. Worst case, we could lose the house.

“But I wanna get a job.”