down a freshly planted flower garden,2 Caused $750.00 damage to my mother’s new car,
3 Nearly got killed, and
4 Lost all electronics for two weeks, including the computer, the TV, my Xbox, and my brand-new iPod.
So, I’m sure you can understand why I can’t believe that Rachel, who witnessed this entire horrific event, could even say the word lawn mower in my presence, let alone suggest that we start a lawn-mowing service!
“Oh, yeah …” she says, biting her lip, “Sorry … how could I forget?”
“A lawn-mowing service, I mean, seriously?” I roll my eyes.
“I think we need some fresh air,” Rachel says, looking out the window. “Hey, Mom is teaching a yoga class in the backyard. Maybe we should join in. Might help us clear our minds.”
I look out the window at all the ladies dressed in their lululemon yoga gear, all perfectly positioned in neat rows, doing their best attempts at downward-facing dog. I have a lululemon hoodie, which I totally love. I got it at a yard sale last September for five bucks. What a deal!
“Hannah, listen!” Rachel demands, pointing at her radio. “Turn it up!”
“That’s right!” the announcer booms. “I’m looking at a big pile of front-row tickets to see Josh Taylor live in concert! Every day from now until December we’ll be giving them away. Just listen for Josh’s latest number one hit, ‘Heart Attack.’ When you hear it, start dialling. The tenth caller on the line who can correctly answer the daily Josh Taylor trivia question will win two front-row tickets to see Josh live in concert right here in Glen Haven! So fans, start brushing up on your Josh trivia!”
“Josh trivia! We know Josh trivia. We know everything about Josh Taylor!” I squeal.
“We do, we’re his biggest fans!” Rachel adds excitedly.
“Yeah, we don’t need a plan! We can win the tickets!” I yell, jumping in the air.
“Operation Win Tickets!” she yells back, jumping beside me.
Just then, Rachel’s older brother, Nate, pokes his head in the door.
“Hey losers!” he says, in his surfer-dude accent. “Wanna turn that down?”
“Wanna get out of my room?” Rachel yells above the blaring radio that’s now playing our newest favorite Josh Taylor song, “Lovin’ You.”
“What’s with you two, anyway?” He smirks.
“We’re gonna win tickets to the Josh Taylor concert,” I say, matter-of-factly.
“You think you’re going to win tickets?” He raises his eyebrow. “You mean from that radio contest?”
“Well, yeah,” Rachel barks, “we are! Definitely! Well, probably, er … hopefully!”
Rachel’s brother shakes his head. “You realize there’s like hundreds, maybe thousands, of teenage girls trying to get those tickets. Right?”
“Hundreds … maybe thousands?” I gasp.
Nate chuckles. “Yeah, you’re not gettin’ tickets.”
“Thanks for your help, Nate. Now get out of my room!” Rachel demands, chucking her pillow at him.
Reality check: Nate is right. The chances of us actually winning tickets are pretty slim.
Looking out the window again, I see that all the yoga ladies are now on their tiptoes with their arms stretching up to the clouds. It looks like they bought out the entire lululemon store. For a second, I forget all about the plan and let thoughts of my own lovely lululemon sweater float around in my brain. It was so sweet finding it on that table in my neighbour’s driveway. And the look on Scarlett’s face when she saw me wearing it at school the next day was, like, priceless. She thought she was the only kid in our school with lulu stuff. Ha! I’m so glad I went to that sale!
Suddenly it’s staring me right in the face … the perfect plan.
“Rachel!” I exclaim. “We’re gonna have a yard sale.”
5
Operation-a-No-Go
I’ve been telling Rachel all week not to worry so much. It’s all going to work out. Actually, I’m so sure of it that I’ve already picked out an outfit for the concert, and it’s still months away! After all, we not only have a plan, Operation Yard Sale, but with our combined expert knowledge of all things Josh Taylor, we have a great backup plan. Not that we’ll need a backup plan because our yard sale is going to be massive! A monster blowout! We just need to find some stuff to sell.
Since last week, we’ve been searching through our rooms for old clothes and “gently used” junk. Rachel thinks we don’t have enough. Even with all of Rachel’s obsessing, I’m not going to freak about it. I’m sure we’ll find enough stuff to sell by Saturday. We’ve got loads of time. Although, it’s turning out to be a bit tougher than I thought.
It seems sometimes, it’s a teensy-weensy bit difficult to practically give away a once-prized possession for, like, an eighth of what it’s worth. For example, I have this really awesome, fleecy, light-blue Hollister hoodie. It’s cozy and warm and I love it. So, okay, the arms are just a tiny bit short and the zipper gets stuck sometimes, and it kind of rides up whenever I sit down. I am really trying to force myself to throw it onto the sell-it pile, but I love it so much. And it’s been such an important part of my life. I’ve worn it to many events and on lots and lots of special occasions, although I can’t exactly remember which ones at this moment in time. Anyway, it’s one of my favorite things I own, so how could I possibly sell it? Of course I can’t. I’ll just remember not to lift up my arms or sit down when I’m wearing it. Great! It’s decided then: I am not selling it!
So, this is pretty much how things have gone all week. Our sell-it piles are pathetically small and our rooms are disasters.
Finally, Rachel suggests we work on our piles together.
“So,” she says, “I think we should start using a ‘tough love approach.’”
“Tough love?” I stare at her, eyebrows raised, thinking that this should be interesting.
“So, say I’m having a particularly hard time letting go of something I really love,” she says, “like say … a big stack of old J-14 magazines.”
“Or a cozy hoodie,” I say under my breath.
“So, now it’s your job to be tough and say something like, I know you love them, but you’ve read them a trillion times and took out all the cool posters and now they’re all falling
