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TREVOR

RaccoonBandit: I officially have the weekend off! I can’t wait!

My fingers fly across my phone in the forum.

MaddieBaby: Yay! I’m so excited to see my bestie!

Playingaround123abc: Haven’t seen you in ages, thought you got tired of us.

RacccoonBandit: Never! I love you all.

BabyboyBel: I’m gonna hug you sooo fucking hard!

DaddyHandsome: Language

BabyboyBel: sowwy Daddy.

I snort because Bel is always using bad language where his Daddy sees or hears.

RaccoonBandit: I’ll drive up Saturday afternoon and we can have dinner before we play.

Playingaround123abc: As long as it’s not tacos this time. That ended badly for me last time.

I slap a hand over my mouth when I bark out a laugh. Mom doesn’t care if we’re on our phones in the ticket booth as long as no one else is around.

RaccoonBandit: Promise no tacos!

There’s the crunch of gravel and I shove my phone back in my pocket and throw on a smile. It’s a family of four ready for a day of fun and sun.

The chat with my friends from Playful Pleasures continues on and I glance at it between customers before it’s time for a break and shift in where I go for the rest of the day.

The air is muggy and hot when I leave the ticket booth and I already miss the AC. Despite being born and raised in Alabama, I’ve never gotten used to the heat or humidity. I swipe a hand over my forehead, then wipe it on my shorts.

“Hey kiddo!” Mom says as I pass her. “I need you on the clean-up crew. Brad called in sick.” She doesn’t even wait for my response.

My shoulders sag. I strongly dislike working on the clean-up crew, but it’s an important part of the carnival.

When I look up, there are several overflowing trash cans and messy picnic tables.

The food vendors haven’t had time to clear up.

I can’t in good conscious leave things the way they are.

I can take a break after I get the designated food area picked up.

I gear up in the supply room with gloves and my traveling trash bin on wheels. It’s the best thing we have to clean up the tables. That’s my first priority. I’ll grab the ATV for the overflowing trash cans throughout the carnival.

It doesn’t take me too long to clean up the tables and make sure the trash bins in the eating area are empty. My stomach rumbles, but I push through. I’ll eat after emptying the trash bins.

Unfortunately, when I get to the garage, the ATV is... Well, it’s dead. And the golf cart is gone too. Which means this just got way harder. I grab the push wagon we have for instances like this and heave a sigh.

My phone vibrates and I look around before fishing it from my pocket. I just need a little peek at what’s going on in the chat. But it’s not that, and I drop my head back to stare at the cloudless sky.

Mom: I NEED you to get the trash under control!

Trevor: Working on it. Had to clear out the picnic tables. The ATV is dead and someone has the golf cart. I’m coming up with the wagon.

Mom: You should have started with the trash.

I grind my teeth and fight off tears. Sweat drips from my brow and slides down my back making my shirt stick to me. I yank the front away from my chest, but it doesn’t help.

Trevor: Didn’t we just have a conversation about me being a person and not a robot?

Mom: Please do not sass me. The trash pileup makes us look bad.

“Why can’t you do it then?” I say to myself. My cheeks go hot. I know mom’s busy otherwise she probably would have worked on the trash herself. She doesn’t make any of us do anything she doesn’t do herself. But she doesn’t act like this towards anyone else.

I drag the wagon behind me and dream about the weekend and playing with my friends.