Ida blinks at me, panicked.

“It was fine, Ida,” I say. “School was fine.” I go to put her order in before she can say anything else.

Margo drives me home after we close up. “Alone again?” she asks when she pulls in the driveway. Icy rain smacks the windshield.

“He’s been over with Irene and the boy for a couple months straight now.”

“I don’t know what he’s thinking leaving a young girl by herself all the time.” She sighs. “You know I’d take you at my place if I could.”

I want to ask her why she can’t, but I don’t want to make her feel worse.

She shuts the engine but leaves the radio on. It’s Bon Jovi. “Well, I’ve got good news and bad,” she says, “which you want first?”

“Bad,” I say.

“Bad news is, I crunched numbers and I still can’t figure how to give you extra shifts. You can come an hour early to the ones you already have, and I’ll give you first dibs if anyone calls in sick, but I can’t afford it otherwise, honey.”

She’s looking right in my eyes and I know she can tell I’m disappointed. I make myself smile, and say, “Hit me with the good news,” praying that coming in an hour early wasn’t it.

“The good news is I called Gary, over at Gary’s Tap Room. He wants you to play on Friday nights. I told him you were the best thing since sliced biscuits.” She pats my arm and her bracelets jangle.

“You haven’t even heard me play.”

“I know.” She tips her head back and laughs. I love it when she cracks herself up. “I know! I know! I put on my good sweet voice and told Gary you were our own little Joni.”

“I don’t think I sound anything like Joni Mitchell,” I say, feeling heat rise in my cheeks.

“Oh, Gary’s deaf in one ear anyway, hon. It don’t matter one bit what you sound like.”

Margo’s been seeing Gary. She thinks I don’t know, but Matty and I were three rows behind them at the movies a few weeks back. They made out like teenagers the whole time.

“I only have three songs,” I say.

“Then you better write more!” She kisses me on the cheek, and I get out of the car. She waits for me to unlock the door to the motorhome, like I couldn’t just climb in through the boarded up window at the back if I lost my key.