Free A Catered Mother's Day by Isis Crawford

pronto.”
    â€œI’m going,” Libby said, never mind that she was so tired that her bones were aching. She went into her bedroom and put on her bathrobe.
    â€œLibby, be nice,” Bernie said to her sister as she went by her.
    â€œNice? At this time of the morning? I wouldn’t count on it if I were you,” Libby replied as she opened the door to the flat and headed down the stairs.
    How did people exist on three or four hours of sleep a night anyway? she wondered. She certainly wasn’t able to. In addition to her back bothering her, her head was hurting and each ring of the doorbell was like a sharp knife through her eyes. Boy, she wished they were closed on Sundays like they usually were, but they made too much money on Mother’s Day not to stay open.
    â€œI’m coming,” she cried as she descended the stairs.
    The ringing continued. She got to the door and jerked it open. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “Don’t you know what time it is?”
    Ethan jumped back, looking, Libby decided, like a surprised deer.
    â€œAh,” he stammered. “Sorry.” He swallowed and looked down at the floor. Skinny, all hands and feet, and the youngest of the three, he was still in his pajama bottoms and a Batman T-shirt and looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Which he probably had.
    His two older brothers standing a little ways behind him didn’t look much more put together. Matt, the seventeen-year-old, had on a pair of stained khaki cargo shorts and an old stretched-out T-shirt that read Mets Forever , while fourteen-year-old Ryan, the blond wannabe gangsta of the group, was wearing baggy pants and an oversized white T-shirt. They both looked as if they’d been up all night.
    â€œSorry about my little brother,” Matt said, reaching out and lightly cuffing Ethan on the top of his head. “I told him to ring once, but he never listens.”
    Libby highly doubted that, but she wasn’t about to get into a debate. “I don’t care. You guys have to go home.”
    â€œPlease,” Ryan said, stepping forward. Libby thought he looked as if he’d been crying. In fact, all three of them looked as if they had been. Ryan held out a heavy plastic bag. “You have to help my mom.” He nodded toward the bag. “There’s three hundred and seventy-five dollars in there, in quarters. That’s all we could come up with on short notice.”
    â€œBut we’ll mow lawns,” Matt said.
    â€œAnd I can walk dogs,” Ethan added.
    â€œSo we’ll get more.” Matt nodded toward the bag. “We know this isn’t enough, but we’ll come up with more. We promise.”
    Ethan raised his right hand. “I swear.”
    â€œWe all do,” Matt said, looking like twelve instead of seventeen.
    â€œTake it,” Ryan told Libby, placing the bag in her hands. It was so heavy she nearly dropped it.
    Ethan’s voice cracked. “Mom said we should talk to you. She said you’d know what to do.”
    â€œDid she? Well, she was wrong.” Libby held the bag out to Ryan. “Take it.”
    Ryan backed away. “No. No. It’s for you and your sister.”
    â€œI don’t want it,” Libby said.
    â€œYou have to take it,” Ryan insisted. “My mom said you and your sister would know what to do, and my dad said it too.”
    â€œYour dad?” That’s not what he said last night , Libby recalled.
    â€œDefinitely,” Ryan said.
    â€œNo, he didn’t,” Matt said.
    â€œYeah he did, dodo,” Ryan answered. “He was yelling that she should go ask her friend Bernie to figure it out since she was so smart.”
    Matt looked disgusted. “He was being sarcastic, moron.”
    â€œShows you how much you know,” Ryan told him.
    Libby interrupted. “So if your mother wants to talk to us how come she’s not here?” she