morning girls,” Mrs. Harris says with a friendly smile. “Please come in. Have a seat.”
Scarlett invites herself along.
“So, I hear you have recently become entrepreneurs,” Mrs. Harris remarks.
“Entrepren-what?” I say, confused.
“Yeah, I guess,” Rachel answers. “I mean, we have a product we’re selling, and we have investors.”
“And a business plan,” I add.
“Hmm, well, taking all of that into account, I’d definitely say you’re entrepreneurs,” Mrs. Harris says with a little chuckle.
“Yes,” I say, “entre-pren-eurs … um … I thought you said something else. Yeah, we’re definitely entrepreneurs.” I like the way that sounds … so professional. “Would you like to see our stuff?” I add, pushing up my sleeve.
“Oh,” she says, gripping my wrist. “Yes, they are quite lovely.”
Rachel’s face breaks into a smile; Scarlett looks beyond ticked off, and suddenly, I get it! We’ve been worrying for nothing. I know why Mrs. Harris invited us into her office. She’s the principal and the boss, and what do bosses want from their staff? Loyalty. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Mrs. Harris plans to buy Wishbandz for all the teachers — if she gives
them bracelets, they’ll feel like a special part of her team, and they’ll give her their everlasting loyalty and devotion. Smart lady! She obviously heard how long the lineup was and didn’t want to miss out. Wow, she’s totally cool for a principal. This morning just keeps getting better!
“Ahem …” Scarlett coughs, tapping a large book that’s found its way onto her lap.
“Oh, yes, Scarlett,” Mrs. Harris stammers, “I almost forgot.”
The smile on Scarlett’s face has returned.
What’s going on?
“So you girls call your bracelets Wishbandz?” Mrs. Harris asks.
I beam. “Yes, with a z at the end.”
“How clever.”
“Ahem …” Scarlett coughs again as she shoves the open book toward Mrs. Harris, who suddenly looks annoyed.
“Well, girls …” Mrs. Harris’s face softens. “I am very pleased with the amount of effort you have put into your project. You should be very proud of yourselves.”
“We are,” I answer.
“Being an entrepreneur is seldom easy. There are many obstacles that can pop up unexpectedly on your way to success.”
I notice that Rachel is starting to shift around in her chair, and Scarlett has suddenly transformed into an evil feline again.
“So, I’m sorry to be the one to put up your first obstacle.”
“Oh, Mrs. Harris,” I interrupt, “you’re not our first obstacle.”
“Shhhhh, Hannah,” Scarlett snaps, “the principal has something very important to tell you.”
“Yes, unfortunately I do.” Mrs. Harris looks down at the book. “I’m afraid that it is against school board policy for students to sell goods for personal profit while on school property and during school hours. I’m sorry, girls, but you’re going to have to pack up your display immediately.”
And just like that, it’s over.
10
The Show Must Go On
“Hannah!” I hear Mom calling from her office.
“Coming.” I let out a sigh, heaving myself off my bed.
I’ve been avoiding her ever since I got home from school today. I don’t want deal with any questions about the business … not today.
She smiles. “How’s the business going?”
“Um … great!” I lie. “Just super! Couldn’t be better!” I try to force a smile, crossing my fingers behind my back.
“Really?” She tilts her head to the side suspiciously.
“Yeah … um … we have tons of bracelets made and you should see our display!”
“How are your sales?”
“Sales? What do you mean exactly?” I pick up a travel brochure with a lighthouse and a lobster on the cover.
“How many Wishbandz have you sold?”
“Well, yesterday was a pretty good day. We sold around ten.”
“Yeah, you told me that. How about today?”
“Um … today was fine,” I say, squeezing my crossed fingers a little tighter. “Are we planning a trip this summer?” I smile, holding up the travel guide.
“Hannah, are you avoiding my question? As an investor, I think I have a right to know how the business is going.”
I fib again. “It’s going fine.”
“So, how many Wishbandz have you sold so far?”
“Um … well … if I add them all together, um … it would be about ten so far.” I bite my lip.
“So there were no sales today?” She frowns. “I thought you said you’d have twenty or thirty more sold by now.”
“Well we ran into a tiny obstacle,” I finally admit.
“What kind of obstacle?”
“They shut us down at school.” I look down at my feet.
“Well, why do you need to sell your Wishbandz at school?”
“Where else would we sell them? School is our target market, remember?”
“Well, looks like your target market doesn’t care where you sell your Wishbandz as long as you are selling them.” She points to her iPad and taps on the screen. “Look! You must have forty messages here, and for once they’re not all from Rachel.”
I plunk myself down in the chair and grab the iPad. She’s right. It’s not over yet!
Just then, the phone rings.
“Have you checked your messages?” Rachel squeals.
“Yeah, just checking them now,” I say.
