“So, how are you holding up? Ready for some more work?”
“Sure, Grandma,” Derek said as he helped her dry the dishes after dinner Friday evening. “Whatever it takes!”
“Okay, then,” she said, drying her hands on a dish towel. Putting an arm around his shoulder, she led him to the kitchen table, where they both sat down. “I’ve got three neighbors lined up, and you can mow all their lawns tomorrow.” Grandma checked the items off on a list she’d made. “When you get back, you can help me with the laundry. And then—”
“Wait, there’s more?”
“You said you wanted to work, didn’t you?” Grandma asked. “And,” she went on, “it turns out that Charlie Detweiler’s family is going on vacation starting this weekend, so he needs somebody to cover his paper delivery route on Sunday morning. His mom says he’ll come over late tomorrow afternoon and explain everything to you. You can use your old bike to get around, if it’s not already too small for you—or you can borrow his if you need to.”
“No, mine’s fine,” said Derek. He’d never delivered newspapers before, but it sounded like fun, and anything that involved bike riding was okay with him.
“Good. I’ll phone them back and tell them you’re good to go.”
“Is that it?” Derek asked, getting out of the chair. There was a TV program on in the living room, and he could hear Sharlee giggling away at whatever was so funny.
“That’s all I’ve got for now,” she said. “Remember, though, if you want something badly enough, you’ve got to be willing to work hard to get it. Those tickets aren’t free, you know.”
“I know, Grandma,” Derek said, giving her a hug and a kiss before heading for the living room. “Thanks.”
He sat down on the couch next to his little sister, and laughed with her at the antics of people and animals in funny home videos on the TV show.
But inside he was thinking way ahead. Those jobs Grandma had lined up for him sounded like they’d be a breeze. After all, biking was one of his favorite things to do. And how hard could mowing a lawn be, anyway?
Besides, the reward at the other end was huge. Not only was he going to get to play with those kids in the Bronx next week, but he was also going to get to treat his best friend Dave to his very first major-league baseball game!
• • •
Whew!
Derek paused and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He’d been pushing the lawn mower around this yard for fifteen minutes, and already his shirt was half-soaked, and his eyes stung from the beads of sweat that had trickled into them.
The two lawns he’d already mowed were fairly small, and he’d done them at warp speed, just to get the jobs over with, so that he could have some swimming time down at the lake later in the day.
This third lawn was much bigger, though, and just as bumpy and rocky as the other two but with higher grass, and lots of little nooks and crannies that made him have to keep turning the lawn mower this way and that.
He paused and took a drink of water from the bottle Grandma had given him. “Don’t forget to keep drinking water,” she’d told him. “I don’t want you getting heatstroke.”
Derek didn’t know what heatstroke was, but now, in the noonday sun, after two hours of racing around lawns, back and forth and back and forth, he was ready for a break.
He looked around. Two thirds of the yard had yet to be touched. Derek decided he could just jam it and finish in record time, no matter how out of breath he got or how fast his heart beat. He decided to time himself, counting silently, betting that he could finish the lawn before he counted to five hundred.
Twenty minutes later he was done. The lawn was mowed, at the count of 475. He’d cleaned off the mower and put it back into the neighbor’s garage, and thanked her when she’d paid him for his work. The second the door was shut behind her, he blew out a breath and wiped his brow, glad to finally be finished!
He ran half the way back home but had to stop and take another drink from the water bottle, emptying it this time. His side hurt from running, and his ears popped so that his heavy breathing sounded really loud inside his head.
Wow, he thought. Maybe I should slow it down a little next time.
• • •
He was tired at the end of his labors, but at least nothing hurt except for that stitch in his side. By late afternoon, though, that had changed. When Charlie Detweiler came over to show him the ins and outs of newspaper delivery, Derek’s arms and legs had already stiffened up and were sore as could be, and his feet were hot and throbbing.
Derek was glad that his next jobs were doing laundry and delivering papers. Those tasks sounded like a snap after mowing three lawns in one day. Besides, the jingle of money in his pockets reminded him of why he was doing it all.
He couldn’t wait for Dave to get here!
• • •
It was only eight in the morning, but the day was already getting hot. Derek’s legs, still sore from yesterday’s lawn mowing, kept pumping, willing the old bicycle up the long hill.
Funny how he’d never even noticed that the road had this gradual slope. It wasn’t a steep hill, but it just kept going, and going, and going. Derek had to stand up and put all his weight into pedaling before he finally got to the top.
This paper route, while he’d enjoyed it a lot for the first half hour or so, was getting to be a long slog. He’d done as Charlie had suggested, breaking the route down into two parts. The first part was a set of streets with lots of houses that got the paper. All Derek had to do was cycle by the front of the house and toss a paper onto the front walkway. If there was a long driveway, he would cycle in and back out, but he never had to stop the bike—just develop a rhythm of cycling and tossing.
This second part of the route, however, was different. It went out to the edges of town, where the houses were far apart and there were more hills. Once, he misread the map Charlie had given him, and it took him ten minutes of cycling around in circles to find the right address.
Derek tossed his last paper out of the bike’s basket and headed for home, happy to be done with his latest job. His legs felt like lead, and his right arm felt like it was about to fall off from flinging so many newspapers!
Why was it, he wondered, that playing ball never made him achy and tired, but working did? His energy flagging fast, he made it home, stowed the bike away, and collapsed onto the sofa, ready to relax at last.
Oh, well. At least he had made a good start on the money he needed. But it was going to take a lot more work to pay for those Yankees tickets. And with the lawns cut and the papers delivered, where else was he going to earn money?
“How’d it go?” Grandma asked, seeing him sprawled on the sofa. “Did you rake in big bucks this morning?”
“It was okay,” said Derek. “Tiring.”
“Well, I hope you’re ready for more tomorrow,” she chirped. “I found you three more lawns to mow! Isn’t that dandy?”
“Awesome,” Derek managed to say, without much excitement.
“Well, then,” she said, pleased. “Feel like a game of catch before lunch?”
“Aw, Grandma,” said Derek, shifting his aching legs on the couch, “I’m too pooped right now. Maybe later, okay? Or tomorrow . . . after lawn mowing?”
“Well! That’s a switch,” she said. “Usually I’m the one who’s tired, and you’re the one who’s rarin’ to go!”
He smiled but didn’t have the energy to laugh with her. Never before in his life had he turned down a game of catch!