Page 20

WHATEVER, WHATEVER

Sabrina

This shouldn’t be so hard. Do I linger in the pickup line or park and wait outside for them?

But I’m a few minutes early, so I keep debating as I circle the block in Japantown. Will they know to look for my orange car? I should park.

Then again, as I make another loop, the Peace Pagoda towering high a few blocks away, I don’t see too many available spots. Shoot. I’ll need to do the pickup line.

I have Luna’s number—Tyler gave it to me at a skating lesson once upon a time.

I could just call her and let her know what my car looks like.

But as I pull back to the front of the school, I see that the line is already several cars long, starting to snake around the corner.

Will they know where to find me if I’m not at the front yet?

Are they used to Agatha being at the head of the line?

Best to find a spot. I search for a nearby parking lot on my phone since I can’t see any on-street parking, and one pops up just around the block. I weave around the cars forming the line and head to the lot, but my stomach sinks when I see the price: $20 an hour. Highway robbery.

Still, it’s my first day on the job, and I can’t be late.

Can’t make a mistake. Pulse racing, I pull into the lot, grab a ticket, and rush to their school, a pretty, three-story structure with an atrium in the middle—or so the website tells me.

It looks more like a fancy apartment building on a TV show set in Los Angeles than a San Francisco elementary school as it comes fully into view as I rush down the street.

After all that effort to be on time, I’m still hurrying.

I hustle toward the main door, ready to tell the security guard my name, when the final bell rings and kids start streaming out of classrooms, visible through the expanse of windows at the front of the school. Come on, come on . I need to time this just right to show them I’m reliable.

So my new employer knows I am as well.

I tell the security guard my name, but he takes too long looking through the list on his tablet. Finally, he says, “Oh, I see you, Ms. Snow. Go right in.”

I make it inside the lobby with the mosaic-tiled floor just as Parker walks over, hair flopping across his eyes, backpack slouching down his body.

And if I’d thought I was nervous before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now.

I’ve talked to Parker only occasionally at skating lessons—but this is our first real interaction. I give him a wave and a smile.

“Hey! How are you?”

He looks at me like I’m a piece of broccoli that should never have been served in the first place. “You’re supposed to pick us up outside. Nobody comes inside.”

He walks right past me and out the front door.

Okay, I definitely have my work cut out for me. Tugging on my shirt to adjust it, I follow him out, figuring Luna will meet us there. When I catch up, I say, “Is this a better spot? ”

He shrugs and mutters, “Fine.”

“How was school?” I ask.

“Fine,” he says with a scowl that translates to get away from me .

“What did you learn?”

“Stuff.”

“What sort of stuff?”

“Just stuff.”

Oh man. I don’t just have my work cut out for me—I have all the work. But little does he know, I’m as persistent as a bee. I shove my hands into my jeans pockets and go toe-to-toe with the kiddo. “Sounds cool. Was it cool?”

“It was whatever.”

“Good whatever or bad whatever?” I ask, pressing more.

“Whatever whatever.”

A few seconds later, Luna arrives, ponytail bouncing, eyes bright. “Hey, Sabrina! You found it! This place is not easy to find. It doesn’t even look like a school—it kind of looks like a weird Art Deco building. Don’t you think?”

She knows what Art Deco is? But kids today know all sorts of things.

“Yeah, it kind of does,” I say. “Like one of those fancy apartment buildings.”

“Exactly! Like on Nobody Does It Better, ” she says, naming a TV show that takes place in, you guessed it, Los Angeles. “Oh, and next time, you can just come to the pickup line.”

My stomach twists, and a voice in my head says you made another mistake already ?

But since that sounds a lot like my father’s voice, I do my best to silence it, reminding myself I made it here on time and I picked up the kids.

“Thank you. I’ll do that. Parker already told me not to come in, but for now, my car is parked. ”

As we walk, Luna chatters about her day. Meanwhile, Parker stops dead in his tracks and asks, “Your car is there? Why did you park there?”

“Because I wanted to meet you at school,” I reply.

“But you didn’t need to pay twenty dollars. We could’ve found your car. We’re not stupid,” he snaps.

Wow. Someone is definitely not a fan of me.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d make it on time,” I say, my voice firm. Then, because I don’t want him thinking he’s in charge, I add, “But I don’t think you’re stupid, and I don’t want you speaking to me that way.”

He gulps but doesn’t say anything.

Maybe it’s a small victory, but I’ll take it as we climb into the car and head to the grocery store, where I park in the small underground lot, with or without Parker’s approval.

But the détente only lasts as long as the produce aisle. As Luna tells me about a science homework project she’s absolutely dreading while I pick out a few avocados, Parker interrupts.

“Can’t we get something good?” he asks.

“What would be good to you?” I reply cheerily, perhaps to cover up my faux pas. For all my famous preparation, I didn’t even ask Tyler about Luna’s and Parker’s likes and dislikes. I was too distracted by the brush of their dad’s strong arm against mine. I’ll do better tomorrow.

“They have gummy bears. Organic,” Parker says, and there’s a hopeful note in his voice.

But there’s also something else—a clever edge. Something that tells me maybe he doesn’t usually get gummies. I hesitate as I push the cart toward the bananas. “Are you allowed to?”

“Agatha always got them for us,” he says, but this time he’s not the sullen, snarky kid of the last half an hour. His voice nearly wobbles when he mentions her name. He must miss her. I bet he feels like I’m stepping on her toes. I should get him the gummy bears—sometimes you just need gummy bears.

I grab the bananas and say, “Let’s check them out.”

When we get to the aisle with the treats, I pick up a bag and glance at the ingredients under the fluorescent lights. Half of them are unpronounceable. Would Tyler want me to get this for Parker?

“I’m pretty sure this is ultra-processed,” I say, a little worried.

Parker furrows his brow. “What is that?”

I quickly explain, trying to keep it light, but his reaction is instant. Parker crosses his arms. “Agatha let us get it,” he says, his tone defiant.

My stomach twists into knots. Tyler said he’s not into ultra-processed food, but maybe he allows exceptions?

But if he does, am I supposed to be exercising those exceptions on day one?

I replay our conversation in the kitchen, but mostly we just talked about hard-to-spell words.

Crap. I didn’t ask about sugar and snacks, and gummy bears definitely have sugar.

I don’t truly know if he has strict rules for his kids about food, or flexible guidelines.

I don’t want to be the nanny who trounces willy-nilly on his home life.

I also want to stay firm so the kids know to listen to me.

Feeling a little torn, I make a game-day decision. “Tell you what,” I finally say, “I’ll buy it for now, but we’re going to need to check with your dad before you eat them.”

Parker stares at me. “Agatha let me eat them.”

Luna rolls her eyes. “Dude, Agatha’s not here.”

He glares at her. “Yeah. I know.”

“Maybe stop obsessing over her.”

“I’m not obsessing. ”

“You kind of are,” Luna says, flicking her ponytail, like she’s had enough of this conversation.

I have to side with him on this—it’s not obsession. “I think he misses her, Luna,” I say, cutting in to come to his defense. I’ll have to talk to Tyler and ask him how to handle this sensitive area.

But Parker scoffs. “I don’t. Mom lets me have them too.”

Ouch. There’s nothing much I can say on that topic. Their mom is in their life, and I don’t want to step on her toes.

“Let’s move on,” I say firmly, since now’s not the time to dive into a tough talk.

Instead, I set the bag in the basket and head down the aisle.

It hits me then: it’s my first day at work.

I’ve barely been on the job an hour, and here I am, breaking up an argument in the middle of the grocery store.

It’s almost as if competitive ice-skating is easier.

On the way home, I try to steer things in a more positive direction with Parker at least. Tyler had mentioned I could take the kids out for a fun activity—a park, bowling, something like that.

I don’t want to be just the “grocery store and pickup” nanny.

Besides, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s having fun.

“What do you two like to do after school? Do you like bowling?” I ask, trying to sound upbeat. “Mini golf? Scavenger hunts? Art classes? Bookstore trips?”

“Skating, mini golf, seeing friends. Going to the wildlife sanctuary,” Luna says, breezily.

My ears prick, remembering what her dad said on my wedding day when I told him about the doves I didn’t get— She’s obsessed with learning about animals. “Have you been to one? A wildlife sanctuary?”

She shakes her head. “No, but I want to,” she says, and I could hug her for being so direct and making my job easy.

“I’ll do some research,” I say, putting that at the top of my list .

“Also, roller skating,” Luna says, then takes a breath, maybe gearing up to rattle off more things she’d like to do.

“Noted. Keep ’em coming,” I tell her.

“Hula hooping. I heard that’s super fun. I also want to learn to skateboard.”

I get the feeling this enthusiastic girl could command a whole conversation, so I make sure to include her brother too. “Parker, what about you?”