8

“How come Max gets new stuff all the time?” I asked my dad the next day. “He never has to wear other people’s old clothes. He gets to choose his own clothes. He’s getting a new pair of Chad Baker All-Stars.”

“Max’s parents can afford to buy new stuff all the time because they both have paying jobs,” said my dad. “They have two incomes. We have one income. That means we have half as much money to spend.”

“But Mom got a raise,” I said. “Would I be able to get new Chads if you worked, too?”

“I do work,” he said. “My job is to stay home and take care of you and your brother.”

“Do you get money for taking care of us?” I asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

“So, it’s more like volunteering,” I said. “Mr. Buntrock says we should all do some volunteering at some point in our lives. I guess you’re doing your volunteering now.”

“It is not volunteering,” said my dad. “It’s called being a parent, Henry.”

“How come one of Max’s parents doesn’t stay at home, like you?” I asked.

“It’s their choice,” said Dad. “Plus, Max doesn’t have a baby brother, like you do.”

“So, let me get this straight,” I said. “I have a baby brother. You stay at home. And we can’t afford to buy Chad Bakers. I think Max’s family made good choices and we made bad choices. That’s what it seems like to me.”

“I don’t expect you to understand grown-up choices,” he said. “We don’t have money to spend on things like overpriced running shoes, but we have all we need to be happy.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I said. “I’m here in Max’s old clothes and my sad, old running shoes while he’s about to get a new pair of Chads. I’d say it’s Max who has all he needs to be happy.”

About a month later on the very last day of fifth grade, Dad surprised me. We were all up early to say goodbye to Mom. She was on her way to Las Vegas for the Herbit sales conference. I had made a sign that said Bon Voyage! (That’s French for “Have a good trip.”) Dad made pancakes. Sam ran around pretending to be an airplane. As soon as Mom kissed us goodbye and got in the taxi to go to the airport, Dad said he had something he wanted to talk to me about.

I figured he was going to talk about helping out while Mom was away. We’d been having the same conversation for a few weeks. There were three basic points:

1. I was a good kid.

2. I needed to be more responsible.

3. I needed to be extra nice to Sam while Mom was away.

But instead, Dad had a surprise.

“I got you a little something to celebrate the last day of school, Henry,” he said.

He never gets me anything.

He handed me a shoebox. It had the Dollar Shack logo on it. I opened it up and found a brand-new pair of Chad Baker All-Stars! They were beautiful. They were awesome. They were mine. Mine! I took them out of the shoebox and sniffed them. They smelled great.

“I didn’t know the Dollar Shack sells Chad Bakers,” I said as I examined my new running shoes.

“They don’t,” said Dad. “If you look closely they’re actually called Chad Fakers. It’s ingenious. It’s one little letter. You can hardly tell the difference.”

“Chad Fakers?” I said, horrified. “I can’t wear these. They’re fake. Everyone’s going to laugh at me.”

“Who’s going to notice?” he said with a little shrug. “You didn’t notice at first. There’s no difference. They’re probably made in the same factory as Chad Bakers. The only difference is the price and the label. We can afford Chad Faker All-Stars. We can’t afford Chad Baker All-Stars. Anyway, like I said, who’s going to notice?”