Page 2

TREVOR

My heart sinks when I look at the schedule. I’d asked for this weekend off two months ago, but mom either forgot or decided not to let me have it.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Liam, one of our food truck operators, throws his arm over my shoulder and scans the schedule.

“Mom scheduled me for this weekend,” I mumble.

“So? It’s not like you have a life. You’re always either here or at your dad’s hotel.”

“Dad gave me the weekend off.” I shimmy Liam’s arm off my shoulder. “And I do have a life. That’s why I wanted this weekend off.”

I turn my back to Liam. I like him well enough, but not enough to tell him all my secrets.

Like the reason I wanted the weekend off in the first place.

Trevor: Hey, is this schedule right? I asked for this weekend off and you scheduled me on.

Mom: If it’s posted, it’s right.

I grind my teeth as I scan the schedule again, looking for someone to take my place.

Trevor: Why isn’t Sadie working?

Mom: She asked for it off. She’s got three kids Trev. I can’t just say no to her.

I bite my tongue and keep my itchy fingers from flying over my keyboard with a retort I’ll regret later.

Trevor: I have plans. That’s why I asked for the time off months ago.

Mom: Sorry kiddo, I need you to man the ticket booth.

Trevor: I’m coming to the office. We need to discuss this.

I’m so burned out. I need this weekend for myself. And I need a week off soon. My parents have been divorced since I was nine and I’ve worked with both of them from the time I could read and write. Which ever parent I was with for the week dictated what I did.

Dad owns Cruiser Beach Hotel and mom owns Happy Time Beach Carnival. Nowadays, I start my day at the hotel, working either the front desk or house keeping until noon. Then give myself an hour for lunch before I’m at the carnival to sell tickets, do maintenance, or cleanup. Whatever mom says.

Don’t get me wrong. I love both jobs for the most part, but sometimes a guy needs a break. And a Daddy.

The gravel crunches under my boots as I march to the office trailer behind the Merry-go-round.

The AC hums at full blast in the humid summer heat.

A bead of sweat runs down my back, sticking my bright blue Happy Time Beach Carnival Staff shirt to my skin.

My khaki shorts are the only comfortable clothing I have on right now.

The trailer is a dull tan color with a gray roof and a black door with OFFICE stenciled to it.

I knock once before clomping up the steps and opening the door.

Mom’s at the desk at the front end of the place.

Her brown hair’s in a high ponytail. She’s in a shirt that matches my own, other than it being lime green instead of blue.

We have all the neon colors of the rainbow to choose so the shirts never get boring.

She looks up at me and sighs as she pushes her glasses up her nose. “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t.”

“You can. And I need a week off next month. I don’t care what week, but?—”

“Out of the question.” She pushes to her feet as she shakes her head. “It’s summer and all my employees that are parents are asking for time off.”

“This weekend isn’t negotiable. I have plans, already paid for and I’m not missing something I’ve been looking forward to for months.”

“You should have?—”

I stroll up to the box on the wall where we all add our time requests and pull out the folder. I leaf through the half a dozen or so requests to find mine and hand it over.

“I went through the entire procedure like I always do. You signed.” I point to her signature, where she approved my request months ago.

“Things come up, kiddo.”

“In all these years, have I ever asked for serious time off?”

“No, but?—”

“Mom, I need this. I love Happy Time, but between you and dad I need a break. I won’t be here this weekend.”

“Are you saying you quit?” Her words come out clipped, and she narrows her eyes.

“I’m saying I won’t be here. I followed your rules.

You treat me like a servant instead of your employee.

I’m not asking for special treatment. I’m asking to be treated like a person instead of a robot.

” My hands shake and my heart pounds. Never once have I talked back to her.

I’ve always just gone along with what she’s wanted, even when it meant losing out on doing something I’ve wanted. But not this time.

She stares at me, no doubt stunned. She drops back into her chair and pulls up the spreadsheet for the schedule on the computer.

“I suppose your father gave you the weekend off?”

“You know I don’t like it when you do this, but yes.

” She never could pit me against my dad.

He never tried because he was heartbroken they didn’t work out.

He’s still heartbroken, but he never tries to get me to quit Happy Time.

He gives me a smile every day when I leave and reminds me to drink water.

Mom always grumbles when I ask for anything, so I stopped.

Until now.

I need this weekend.

I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge and watch as mom works through the schedule. She texts Marco, one of the many managers, to take down the current schedule, that she missed something.

She taps the mouse as she works through the problem. There’s a mumble under her breath and she huffs. “You have your weekend.” She clicks through the schedule to next month and holds out her hand. I pass her the folder with days off requests.

I wait while she ruffles through them and plugs in the requests. “You’re in luck. The third week is entirely clear of requests next month. Monday through Sunday.”

“I’ll take it.” I grab a form and have her sign after I’ve filled it out.

She turns back to me and just stares. “As much as it pains me to say this, I’m proud of you for sticking up for yourself. I can be a bit of a bull.”

I snort. That’s a total understatement.

“Hey now.” She chuckles.

“Just remember I’m a human boy every once in a while and we’ll be good.” I grin and stress rolls off me. I get to go play with my Little friends this weekend.

Mom pushes back to her feet. “I’ll try, kiddo. Got you on tickets for a few hours, so enjoy the AC while you can.” She gives me a small smile and squeezes my hand.

I know mom just wants Happy Time to do well, and it does, but I want a life outside of the carnival and dad’s hotel. Dad realizes this, though.

“Thanks!” I grab another water bottle and head out of the trailer.

There is definitely a pep to my step now that the confrontation is over and blessedly short-lived.

“You look chipper now,” Liam says when we cross paths.

“Got my weekend.”

“Must be nice.”

I glare at him. “You know I don’t get special treatment or perks.”

“Oh, I know.” He grins and dances away from me. “You always get the shit jobs, and you’re always here. That isn’t a perk.”

My face burns. He’s not wrong. I rarely put up a fuss because I don’t want to upset mom, but this weekend is different.