That night I found Mom and Dad sitting on the deck in Adirondack Chairs.
“Hey kiddo,” Dad said, popping open a soda. “Nice night, huh?”
“Yep,” I agreed. And it really was. It was just getting dark and a few fireflies blinked Morse code. Catch-me. Catch-me.
I settled on the bench across from them and began digging at a splinter in my big toe.
Mom started to get out of her chair.
“I got it,” I told her. “It’s just a little one.”
Mom didn’t move. “Those are the worst kind. Are you sure you don’t need help?”
I hated the way she treated me like a baby sometimes. “I said I got it,” I told her.
Mom lowered herself back down. “Make sure you wash your hands and put some antibacterial cream on that after you get it out,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe how many nasty infections we see at the hospital.”
Here was my opening, the perfect spot to put my plan in motion.
“What’s the weirdest case you saw today?” I asked Mom.
“Well, we had this one toddler,” Mom said. She paused then chuckled. “The poor little guy got his hand stuck inside the gum-ball machine at a grocery store. The EMTs couldn’t get his hand out, so they just loaded up the boy and the gum machine and transported them together!”
“That sounds like something out of a bad movie,” Dad said.
“Or a really good one,” I said.
Mom and Dad laughed.
Then I went for it. “I bet you’ve seen it all, huh, Mom?”
“Just about,” Mom agreed.
“I bet you’ve never seen a cake-decorating injury, though,” I said.
Mom didn’t lose her grin, but her eyes narrowed a bit. “Are you still on that kick?”
“It’s not a kick,” I told her. “I really want to take the class.”
Dad spoke up. “Eliza. I’m sorry. We just can’t afford it.”
Mom jumped in on the act. “You know we had to use savings to pay for Dad’s tuition and—”
“I heard you,” I blurted out. “When you were in the kitchen last night. You guys said it was because you thought I just wanted to meet Sweet Caroline and that I’d quit like always.”
Mom and Dad looked at each other.
Mom sighed and then turned toward me. “I’m sorry you overheard that. And no one said, ‘Like always,’ ” she said gently. “But you have to admit, your track record isn’t great.”
“What if I proved I wasn’t a quitter?”
“We don’t think you’re a quitter,” Mom said, “It’s just—”
Dad interrupted. “Wait. How would you do that?”
Sweet taffy! I had him!
“There’s another class in the fall. What if I take Sam’s place in the taekwondo class all summer? And don’t quit. Then will you let me take the next session?”
Mom studied me a moment. “I don’t know. . . .”
“But the class is already paid for,” I reminded her. “It wouldn’t cost you a thing! In fact, it’d be like I was saving you money.” (That last part I came up with at the spur of the moment.)
“Do you really think you’d want to do that?” Dad asked.
I shrugged. “Sure. It sounds kind of fun.”
Mom threw up her hands in defeat. “Okay,” she said. “Deal.”
I blinked a few times. Mom never gives a green light that quickly.
I jumped up and ran inside before she could change her mind. “Deal!” I called over my shoulder.
This was great. All I had to do was stick out taekwondo for the summer. How hard could it be? Kick, punch, and yell hi-ya! every once in a while? Things could go back to the way they were supposed to be.
And Mom and Dad wouldn’t think I was a quitter.