Page 14

CHAPTER 14

SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO

O live stepped from the pharmacy and showed her dad the twenty-dollar bill in the mason jar.

His eyes lit with approval, and a surge of satisfaction rushed through Olive—satisfaction that she’d pleased her father.

Then she remembered what he’d asked her to do, and any good feelings disappeared. She hated what she’d done. Hated it more than homework and washing dishes and even going to the doctor for shots.

Her dad squeezed her shoulder. “Good job, honey. I knew you’d be a natural.”

“A natural at what?” Olive’s chest tightened as she waited for his answer. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his response.

“You have a trustworthy face.” Dad nudged her chin affectionately. “You’re the kind of person people want to believe.”

Olive didn’t know how she felt about that. But she thought her dad was trying, in his own way, to give her a compliment.

He straightened and kept a hand on her shoulder. “Now I want you to go into the ice cream shop and do the same thing.”

Panic rushed through her, and her chest tightened again until she could hardly breathe.

He wanted her to do this again ? Olive thought it was only a one-time thing. That she’d done it, and now it was over with. She couldn’t do it again!

“But—”

“You don’t think twenty dollars will help us pay our bills, do you?” Dad tilted his head at her. “It’s a great start. But we’re going to need more if we want to keep the lights on.”

“But, Dad—” Olive had to convince him to change his mind.

His gaze tightened. “You can do this, Ollie. I believe in you. You’re going to be helping your family out so much. Isn’t that what you want? To help your family? You love us, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Her voice trembled. “But I don’t like this.”

“Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like.” Her dad’s voice turned hard, a tone she didn’t dare argue with. “It’s just a fact of life.”

Tears escaped the corner of her eyes and formed rivers flowing down her cheeks, dipping to her neck. “Can’t we please just go home? Please? I’ll set up a lemonade stand. I’ll offer to pick up dog poop in Ms. Eason’s backyard. I’ll?—”

Her dad softened his gaze with what looked like compassion. But Olive no longer knew whether or not that emotion was real.

“I just want you to go into four more stores.” Dad’s voice turned soothing, convincing. “Then we’ll go home. I promise.”

Olive licked her lips. She wanted to argue. To dig in her heels.

She wanted to go home and play with her dolls or sit on the porch swing or pick wildflowers. She wanted to do something— anything —normal.

Why this?

She wished she was bigger, older. Wished she could say no and stand her ground.

Instead, she felt helpless, like she had no choice but to obey.

She hated feeling helpless.

When she was old enough, she’d make sure she was never in this position again. She wouldn’t let anyone boss her around, not even someone she loved.

Olive started to wipe away her tears, but her dad grabbed her hand. “Leave them. They’ll help to sell your story.”

Nausea churned inside her, but she nodded.

Then Olive stepped into the ice cream shop and prepared herself to ask for more money.

But this whole setup felt wrong . . . and embarrassing.

She hoped she didn’t run into any kids from her school.