Page 31 of 4th Degree

All I know is that I saw no pity in his eyes, and no ill-intent in his gestures. Nothing he does makes me feel uncomfortable. On the contrary—he makes me feel safe.

So, whatever his reasons were for offering me free training…I only feel grateful. Because with his gesture, and the addition of a few shifts at my other jobs, I can now afford my college tuition without feeling like I’m on the verge of having to sell a kidney.

I feel like I can breathe.

It’s late when I’m finally walking into my house. So seeing Joey sitting at the kitchen table, it causes me to slow my steps.

“You’re still up?” I ask, then peek at what’s in front of him. “Actually, the real question is: you’re still up doing your homework?”

Joey looks up at me long enough to roll his eyes, then immediately turns back to his computer.

“How was work?” he asks.

I settle in the chair across from him with a tired exhale. “Pretty good, actually. I did well on tips.”

For some reason, that gets his attention. He lifts his gaze to me again, this time with urgency shining in his eyes.

“Hey, I was thinking,” he starts, his tone not giving anything away. “I’m old enough to work now. I could get a job, help out with the bills and stuff. So, you know, you wouldn’t have to work so much.”

Joey’s words drive a shard of something I can’t describe into my gut. “Don’t be silly, you don’t have to do that,” I say with forced ease. I don’t want to let on that his offer makes me feel like I’m failing. I’m the one who needs to worry about money. I’m the one who needs to have multiple jobs. This shouldn’t even be a thought in Joey’s brain.

His brow furrows in confusion. “Why not? I’m almost fifteen. Plenty of kids get jobs when they’re in high school.”

“That’s exactly why,” I snap, harsher than I intended. I soften my tone as I continue. “You’re a kid, Joey. You shouldn’t have to think about money and jobs and bills. You should be focusing on school, and after-school sports, and your friends. You should be doing what teenagers do. I don’t want you worrying about anything beyond that.”

Something like sadness enters his expression. “How would you know anything about being a teenager, Sky?” he asks quietly. “You never got a chance to be one.”

My eyes widen. And I can’t gather a response to that.

He releases a heavy sigh. “Sky, I am a teenager. I’m doing all those things you just said. I hang out with my friends, I play basketball, I get my homework done. And I can do all those things because you take care of everything else. But…” I suck in a breath at the storm of emotions in his eyes. “But I’d like it if you could have some things, too. I know you started training, and that’s finally bringing you some happiness, but I still don’t like how stressed you are about money. Especially when you don’t need to do it all by yourself.”

To my horror, my eyes fill with tears. It softens Joey’s expression, and he takes my hand. “All I’m saying is, you don’t need to carry the entire weight of the world on your shoulders. It’s okay to let other people carry a pound or two or ten. It doesn’t make you any less of a person. Or a sister. Dad would’ve been so, so proud of how well you’ve taken care of our family, but he wouldn’t have wanted you to do it alone.”

I blink the tears away. I’m supposed to be the one in control, dammit. I should be the one doing the reassuring.

But Joey is so genuine in his request that I can’t bear to just shoot down his idea. I squeeze his hand and say, “Okay, I’ll agree to consider it. A job is a big deal, Joey, and a big change. It’s not a light decision.”

“I know. But I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I want to do it.”

“I want you to finish your basketball season first,” I say firmly. “For one, your schedule is unreliable with your games, and I know how much you love playing. I’d rather you be committed to it.”

“Deal,” he says with a quick nod. “My season’s almost over, anyway.”

“And I get final call on where you work,” I tell him. “I don’t want you getting taken advantage of by some shitty employer who thinks he can pay a kid a couple bucks and overwork him.”

That earns me another eye roll. “Fine.”

“Okay, then,” I say on a shaky exhale. “We’re in agreement.”

Joey grins. “Okay, then.”

And God…my heart can’t decide if it wants to burst from pride or pain.

I clear the emotions from my throat under the guise of my chair squeaking as I stand up. Heading into the kitchen, I start my usual routine of meal prepping for us for the week. “Alright, well, since you’re up, we might as well do some review prep. I know your history test is on Friday, so as soon as you’re done with whatever you’re working on, I’ll quiz you on the material.”

I’m met with the familiar sound of a teenager’s groan and head hitting the table.

Training is hard enough that I have to take a few minutes to get my breath back when the bell finally signals the end of class. Thankfully, I’m not the only one struggling.

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