July 2085: work ethic

Quinn Buchanan is 14, Mariah is 36, Lily is 13. Tommy Daniels is 24. 


"Can I give you a name?" Quinn said to the chicken. "Myrtle. Myrtle the chicken. It's a pleasure to meet you, Myrtle. Because I thought we should be on a first name basis, seeing how we're going to be spending so much time together this summer."

The chicken tilted her head. Quinn imagined she was listening.

"Myrtle, can you keep a secret?"


Quinn leaned in to whisper. "I think Mr. Daniels is a total dreamboat."

Quinn scanned the yard quickly. There were only bales of hay and chickens and Bonnie, who was a horse. She exhaled, both relieved and sort of tingly to say the truth out loud. She was in love with Mr. Daniels. Because she couldn't say that out loud to anyone else but a chicken. Mr. Daniels was twenty-four years old and Quinn was only fourteen, and she knew that was totally and completely and astronomically not allowed.

It was okay though. Mr. Daniels didn't seem to like her, at all. Much less actually like her in a good way.


Normally Quinn dealt with his sister, Sadie when she worked. Or sometimes his parents, Mr. Daniels Sr. or his mom, who insisted Quinn call her Hattie. Though sometimes Quinn called her Mrs. Hattie, just because it seemed more proper. She rarely got to talk to Mr. Daniels (or Tommy, she liked to call him in her head), because he was always nervous and scattered around her. He avoided her, it seemed. Quinn got it. She was nervous and scattered around strangers too, though it always made her a little bit sad because after she'd been working on their farm for two months now, she didn't think he should consider her a stranger anymore.

Which only led her to believe that he hated her, though she didn't know why.

But sometimes he had to talk to her because everybody else was busy or out. He stood nearby, not too close, clearing his throat. A-hem. "Err, I guess you could probably take the day off," he said. "It's too hot to be working in this kind of sun. You could get heat stroke."


"Oh no, it's fine," Quinn said. "I love the sun. It's not too hot. I only just got here. I fed the chickens and checked for eggs. Didn't get to clean the coop yet though..."

"It'll be fine until tomorrow," he said.


"But if you're worried about the hours, you can come in early tomorrow to make them up. If you want."

"No, I wasn't worried," Quinn said. She wasn't here for the money. Everybody in town knew her parents had a ridiculous amount of money. Her mother did, anyway. And by marriage, her father too. Her mom had inherited a real estate empire when Grandpa Riley died, and she always insisted that the kids needed to learn work ethic, which was why Quinn was here on the farm this summer. She didn't want them to be spoiled. Quinn's mom told them wistful and tender stories of their Aunt Keri, who was spoiled rotten, and what a shame it was they never got to know her.

"But I will come in early, if you want," Quinn added, grinning at the idea of getting to see Tommy again, for longer this time, and that it was even his idea.


She said goodbye to Bonnie. And Myrtle. And she called her mom to come pick her up early.

---

Quinn was just in time, because the whole family were loading up the van to drive over to Hazel Park for some swimming in this unbearable heat. 

Lily dug through the sand while she talked about some new boy she saw at the grocery store the other day, standing by the meat case. Fresh meat was all he'd be to Lily. She'd already had and dumped a few boyfriends—Quinn had stopped counting a while ago. "Total hottie," Lily said, raking her fingers through the sand. "Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes, dark leather jacket. I wonder how old he is? I wonder what his name is? I wonder what kind of music he likes...?" Lily wondered out loud a thousand other things about this boy she hadn't met yet. Quinn wondered if it crossed Lily's mind that this boy might end up not even liking her at all.

Quinn gave up on the sandbox. And Lily. And sometimes she felt like giving up on childhood. She felt older than fourteen, sick of being a kid. She was over it. She took the lounger next to her mom while her dad floated around the pool. She could hear him snoring.

And her mom had "a look" on her face.


"When did you buy that?" Mariah asked.

"The swimsuit?" Quinn shrugged. "I don't know, a couple weeks ago. After I got my first paycheck." Quinn smiled a little at the word "paycheck." It made her feel grown-up.

"It’s, ummm, a little... low-cut? Don't you think?"

"Mom! Geeze, it’s not that bad! You should see Lily’s."


"I don't want to see Lily’s. It’s just..." Mariah made some motions with her hands, cup shapes under her chest. "I didn’t know they’d gotten that big already."

"Oh! My! God!" Quinn cringed. Her mom was really going to sit here and talk about her boobs? That was enough to make her want to put a t-shirt on. "I'm dead. I just died. And I'm gonna die again if you don't stop talking about my boobs."

"Just, be careful, okay?"

"Be careful doing what? Being invisible? Don’t worry. Guys don't even know I'm alive."

"They will. Just wait, soon enough, they will." Mariah sighed. "Oh Lord, how are you going to be fifteen this fall? How am I old enough for that?"


"Do the math, Mom. That’s what happens when you get yourself knocked up right out of college."

"You're too clever for your own good," Mariah said. "I'm glad for that, at least."

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