Free Sketches by Eric Walters Page B

a decision.”
    â€œHow can I make a decision when I don’t even really understand what you two are arguing about?”
    â€œCome on, Dana, you can’t tell me that you never saw kids cleaning windshields at street corners.”
    â€œI’ve seen it,” I admitted.
    It was hard to miss if you hung around downtown at all. I even remembered the first time I saw it happen. I couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. I was with my mother and we were heading downtown to meet my father for lunch. I was in the back seat—my sister was in her car seat beside me—and we stopped for a red light. These kids came running toward the car. My mother hit the door-lock button and told me not to be scared. I hadn’t even thought about being scared until she told me not to—then I was. These kids surrounded the car and started cleaning all the windows. One of the kids—a girl—smiled and waved at me through the window, but I was too afraid to wave back. Then, just before the light changed, my mother opened the window just a crack and handed them a dollar and we drove away.
    â€œSo what is it you don’t understand?” Brent asked. “You walk out into the street when the cars stop and ask if they want their windshields washed. If they don’t, you don’t. If they do, you do. There’s nothing more to it.”
    â€œNothing more except for getting run over!”
    â€œCome on, Ash, nobody’s going to run you down!” Brent argued.
    â€œI’ve heard of people getting brushed by cars as they speed away. And how about that guy . . . what was his name? . . . Kevin, I think . . . who got brained by the side mirror of that truck?”
    â€œHis brain was scrambled before he got hit by the mirror,” Brent said. “In fact, that’s probably why he got hit. It won’t happen if you’re careful.”
    â€œWell, what about the cops, then?” she said. “It’s illegal to squeegee.”
    â€œIt’s not illegal to squeegee. It’s illegal to be on the road,” Brent corrected her.
    â€œWell. Unless people start driving on the sidewalk, that’s the only place where you can squeegee,” Ashley said.
    â€œIt’s just a ticket if they catch you, and most of the time they don’t even want to catch you,” Brent said. “They just chase you away, that’s all.”
    â€œHas either of you ever gotten a ticket?” I asked.
    They both shook their heads.
    â€œHas either of you ever been hit or brushed by a car?”
    â€œNot me,” Brent said.
    â€œI was almost hit once,” Ashley said.
    â€œAlmost doesn’t count. So, are we going to do it?” Brent asked.
    â€œYou said the money was better, right?” I was thinking about another night in a motel room, and we needed money for that.
    â€œIt can be very good,” Brent said.
    â€œAshley, can we earn more doing this than panhandling?”
    She reluctantly nodded her head.
    â€œThen let’s try it for a bit. Okay?”
    Ashley didn’t answer right away. Then she muttered, “I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.”
    â€œAll right! So let’s get to it,” Brent said. “First, we have to find a good corner.”
    â€œHow about this one?” I asked.
    â€œI was thinking of going down closer to the lake.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with here?” I was pretty sure I’d actually seen squeegee kids on this street before.
    â€œYeah, let’s just stay here,” Ashley said. “It’s bad enough having to do this without having to go on a major hike first.”
    Brent looked around hesitantly. “I guess this would be okay.”
    He got up and walked around to the back of the building we’d slept in, and when he came back he was carrying a pail. He must have stashed it somewhere out there the night before. He offered it to me. “Get this filled with