Rainy Day Fund
by Ciara O’Callagan
“You’ve got to be shitting me. No, I didn’t lose you, I know I
didn’t,” I whine as I dig through my oversized messenger bag that’s filled
with empty gum wrappers, old ticket stubs, and various crumpled papers
that say God-knows-what. “Oh, thank god,” I whisper after finally finding my key.
I quickly press the key into the keyhole as I hear another door
down the hall being opened. I cannot be bothered to converse with my
neighbors today, not after that shift.
“Mia!” A voice calls my name, a voice that contains unnecessary
excitement. Andy’s voice. Of course.
“Sup, Andy?”
“Not much, not much. Just catching up on some homework. Did
you just get off work?”
No, I prefer to wear my work uniform on my days off. “Yeah, I
took Heather’s shift. Needed some extra cash.”
“Oh, really? What for?” Andy says as he pushes a few brown locks
off his forehead and takes a step toward me. I wish it was acceptable to
make car alarm sounds when people get too close to you. Why do I need
some extra cash? I don’t know, because my parents stopped giving me a
weekly allowance when I was 10, unlike you. Andy’s parents are loaded
and that’s not his fault, I just hate rich people. “Just trying to save up, you
know.”
He’s so desperate to make conversation with me. Just because we
have the same friends doesn’t mean we have to make small talk. I wonder
if he talks to everyone else like this, asking stupid fucking questions that
he already knows the answers to.
“Nice, nice. You have a birthday coming up soon, right?”
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