“Well, you can take the afternoon shift off since we came back early. I’ll drop a check in your mailbox.”

“Oh, OK,” I say. “Thanks.”

“Have a good weekend!” They leave me in the driveway. Mr. Townsend whistles as they go. It puts me in a happy mood, until I realize I’m out two hours of pay.

Back at home, the house is quiet. My parents are at work, and Ivy is watching cartoons from the DVD discards my mom brought home from the library. We used to have cable, but my parents stopped paying, so now all we can watch are old DVDs. When my mom still worked for the school, we could go online and stream shows and do our homework on the laptop they let her bring home, but she had to give it back when she lost her job.

“Hey,” I say. “Did you eat breakfast yet?”

She lifts up a cereal bowl without answering.

“You’re not supposed to eat on the couch,” I say.

“It’s just cereal. I’m not getting crumbs anywhere.”

“You could spill.”

“I’m not a baby.”

I leave her and search for food in the kitchen. The cupboard we keep the cereal in is empty. “Did you eat the last of the cereal?” I yell.

“Sorry!”

Usually there’s at least something in the cupboard, like cornflakes at the very least.

I check the bread box for English muffins, but there’s just a bag of bread with only the heels left.

In the fridge, I find an orange that’s a little bit squishy but seems OK. I can’t remember the last time my parents let us get so low on food. But I can’t remember the last time they’ve been so worried about money, either.

I cut the orange in quarters and put them on a plate, then join Ivy in front of the TV.

“You’re not supposed to eat in here,” she says, mocking my voice.

“Shut up,” I say.

George wanders in and jumps up on the couch to sit between us.

Ivy pops in a SpongeBob DVD.

“Can I have an orange wedge?” Ivy asks.

“Seriously? This is all I have for breakfast.”

“I’m hungry,” she whines.

I hand her a wedge.

“I hope Mom and Dad go shopping soon,” she says. “We’re running out of everything.”

I think of the two hours of pay I’m losing today and how many boxes of cereal it could buy.

“Me too,” I say. The orange juice in my belly feels like acid burning my insides.

“Are we going to the beach?”

“I doubt it,” I say.

“How come? It’s sunny!”