Free My Own Worst Frenemy by Kimberly Reid Page A

someone else. The world keeps spinning, you know.”
    â€œMake that guy work with these two. They’re just kids.”
    â€œThat’s why I’m putting them with you. With your experience, you can teach them to be quality Mitchell employees.”
    I can see how Paulette got her job. Her customer-service skills are excellent. She probably never had to, but I’m sure she could talk down a meth-head who thinks his Tastee Treets value meal is out to get him. Of course, that may be what she’s doing right now. I’m beginning to think Malcolm’s break was at a rehab clinic or maybe one of those rest homes for people who just lose it one day while standing in line at the bank. At least I’ll always be in the van with Marco. If I had to ride around with this guy by myself, I’d just decide to stay broke.
    Paulette’s still talking as though Malcolm is as enthusiastic as she is, instead of nuts.
    â€œYou’ll start with smaller jobs, like clearing out a kid’s bedroom for empty nesters or partial moves to a winter home. Since Marco is seventeen, he can only drive the small van, anyway—employment laws, you know. At sixteen, Chantal can’t drive at all.”
    That works out great since I won’t actually be sixteen for a couple of months. One benefit of being the smartest kid in elementary school is being skipped a grade, which happened to me when I went from first to third. I’m a year younger than your average high school junior, but Paulette doesn’t need to know that yet. I fudged my age on my application, but I figure by the time Paulette learns my true age, I really will be sixteen and by then they’ll be so convinced I’m a model employee that it won’t matter I didn’t tell the whole truth. Or any of it.
    â€œIf you do a good job on those, we’ll put you on full-house moves with Malcolm as the team driver and supervisor. We get lots of those in the summer—you kids could make good money if you work full-time.”
    She sends poor Marco away with rehab Malcolm so he can learn proper packing technique and get a uniform. A uniform ! First Tastee Treets, then Langdon. If I have to wear another uniform I will scream. It turns out I get a reprieve. I’m supposed to dress business casual, which I hope is nothing like Paulette’s outfit—a little too trendy and a whole lotta clingy for someone her age.
    â€œYou two might be our youngest employees yet,” Paulette says, looking over my application. “You must have really impressed Mr. Mitchell.”
    Younger than you think, in my case.
    â€œSo what is the job exactly?” I ask, hoping I sound mature and businesslike.
    â€œYou’ll be the face of Mitchell Moving and Storage to our customers. First you’ll meet with them to assess the job—what they want moved, how they want it stored, what they want us to pack—that sort of thing. Do you have customer-service skills?”
    â€œDefinitely. I have worked in a retail environment where I assessed our customers’ needs and delivered the appropriate product in a timely fashion.”
    See, that’s what you call embellishing. I was a cashier at the Tastee Treets, but I just made it sound better without really lying. As long as it doesn’t involve a cute boy, I can talk my way into, around, or out of anything. Like the time Crazy Moses came in ranting he was going to sue Tastee Treets, scaring the customers. He said whenever he walked in, he heard voices and they were driving him insane. Instead of telling him the boat had sailed on that one, or that the voices he heard were just the Muzak system, I told him if he heard the voices whenever I was at the counter, it was a code that I’d give him a free coffee. With my discount, it only cost me a buck or two a week. Since I quit, I wonder if Moses is now threatening to sue because he stopped getting free coffee.
    â€œWonderful,”