Brook’s looking at me like I'm crazy for even asking. Now I wish I hadn't done it. What was I thinking? I'm asking the stuck-up new girl from the private prep school to help my brother with his homework? She'd take one look at my shitty house and run the other way.
But I really need to get Jacob a tutor. He can't fail English. He gets all A's in math and B's in everything else. It's English that ruins his grade point. Passing that class could be what gets him into college.
I face forward, avoiding her stare. "It wouldn't have to be every day. Maybe just a couple times a week."
"How much does it pay?"
I pause, trying to figure out how I'll pay her. Everything I've saved from my summer jobs goes to pay for expenses and I'm barely getting by. "Eight an hour?"
"Eight? That's not even minimum wage."
"How about ten?" I ask, having no clue how I'll make that work. Maybe I could take it out of the grocery budget.
"Tutors usually make at least thirty," Brook says. "Most make more than that."
"Then forget it," I say, angry I even suggested it. Thirty an hour? Is she serious? I should've known she'd want that kind of money. That's probably nothing to her. "Go apply at the grocery store. See if you can get thirty there."
"Dean, I wasn't saying I'd charge that. I was just saying that's what tutors normally get. Where would I need to go? Would you want me to meet him at the library? A coffee shop?"
"It'd be at my house. But forget it. I shouldn't have asked." I nod at the street. "This is your stop, isn't it?"
She looks past me out the window. "Oh. Yeah." She gets up as the bus slows to a stop. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I watch as she gets off the bus. She said she lives in an apartment. She must live in the building on the corner. Jacob used to have a friend who lived there. When I went to pick him up, I saw the apartment the kid lived in and it wasn't great. It was old and run-down, not much better than my house. Why would Brook live in a place like that? How'd she go from the wealthy suburbs to here?
Three bus stops later I'm on my street, walking the block to my house. When I get inside, I find Jacob on the couch watching TV.
"Why aren't you doing homework?" I ask, tossing my bag on the floor.
"Can't even say hello?" Jacob sits up, grabbing a bottle of Coke from the table.
"Where'd you get that?" I ask, pointing to the Coke.
"Bought it at the gas station. Why?" He chugs the Coke, finishing it.
"We don't have money for that shit." I walk to the kitchen and fill a glass with water. That Coke looked damn good, but it's a luxury when you can barely pay for food.
"I took money from the grocery envelope.”
"That’s for food, not pop. And I told you to never buy stuff at a gas station. It's too expensive."
Jacob meets me in the kitchen. "I'm getting a job." He opens the fridge. "I'm sick of not having stuff. I can't even get a Coke without getting yelled at."
"You can get a Coke, just not every day." I open the cupboard and see it's empty again. "What happened to the food I bought yesterday?"
"I ate it."
"You ate a whole loaf of bread?"
"The bread's right there." He points to it on the counter as he shuts the fridge. "C'mon, Dean, just let me get a job. I'll buy my own food. You won't have to keep paying for it and I can get what I want."
"You're not getting a job when your grades suck." I take out two slices of bread, then search for the jar of peanut butter. I hope we still have some. I'm starving and don't want to have to go to the store.
"I got an A on my algebra test."
"What about that English paper? The one I helped you with."
"D," he mutters, going past me.
