“That sounds great to me. You want my phone? I don’t want it right now.”

“I don’t want your fucking phone. I want you to get the bar set before we open. You haven’t cut the lemons or limes yet, and I don’t see any of the glasses taken out of the dishwasher.”

“I’ll do it now.” I bend and open the mini fridge below the bar. I hear Sean mumble and walk away.

In the fridge, I find a bag of lemons. I also find a couple of bottles of Guinness...

Plenty of bartenders drink while they work. That might make this night a little better.

I feel my phone vibrate once more.

Okay, I definitely need this. I deserve this.

I sit on the floor and crack open the beer with my bottle opener. After a few swigs, I put it back in the fridge. I don’t close the door, I just stare at the open bottle. I take it out once more and chug down the entire thing, then throw it into the garbage can.

I feel like a teenager again. Hey, at least Danny isn’t doing this. That’s a plus.

All right. Time to cut the lemons.

Danny

IT’S MIDNIGHT, BUTI have my sneakers on. My diorama looks like complete freaking trash! I only have this round box, some construction paper, and some dried-up freaking markers. It’s not my fault. What artist can work with these tools?

I’m on the floor, staring at this piece of crap, when Peter walks up the stairs. He’s just standing there, watching me. I match his stare and kick the diorama for emphasis. He sighs, takes off his jacket, and heads toward the coat rack.

“Keep it on,” I say. “We’re going for a walk. Long day.”

He stops. “You aren’t kidding... Hey, I know I said I wouldn’t be tired for you, but—”

“So you lied?”

“I was going to say...” He puts his jacket back on. “Let’s go.”

“Hey,” Hayley says as she walks down the hallway past me. She kisses Peter. Oh, he lookspissed! “What’s wrong?” she asks.

I kick my diorama again. We don’t have time for this. PETER IS TALKING TOME!

“Stop kicking that, Danny,” Peter says.

“What’s wrong is I made this shitty diorama! I didn’t have the right supplies, and now I’m going to fail.”

“I’ll call your teacher tomorrow and ask him for an extension. I’ll tell him it’s my fault. But when you get to high school, you have to start owning your mistakes. It’s time to start keeping an agenda book and starting your projects way before they’re due.”

“What, did you read that in one of those stupid books?” I kick the diorama again, harder. It flies into a dining room chair like a hockey puck. Peter looks down at it, and then back at me.

“Actually, I did...and I think it’s a good idea.” He puts his hand out to me. “Come on, stand up.”

I don’t reach for it. I fold my arms and glare.

“If you want to go for a walk, we’re going now. It’s already past midnight. You have school tomorrow, and I have work. You have ten seconds to stand up, or I’m going to bed.”

“I’m so down to go to bed,” Hayley says and grabs his arm.

I’m going to BARF UP MY GUTS.

“Yeah, not with you.” Peter wiggles his arm free. Woah! What? HUH?

“Ten...Nine...Eight...Seven,” Peter counts.