over her head and lands with a loud smack on the pavement in front of her.
Her husband shoots me a disgusted glare, puts his arm around his poor, traumatized wife, and leads her wibble-wobbling across the street to Gertrude’s driveway.
At that moment, a car door slams and we look up to see a lady and her daughter getting out of a big black SUV. I have a feeling that our luck is about to change. But sadly, that feeling only lasts a second. Suddenly, we realize we’re looking at Scarlett Hastings and her mother. The Hastings family lives in a huge house a few streets over. Scarlett’s mom is tall and slim with shiny, jet-black hair that’s always perfectly done. She’s a fashion buyer, so she’s always dressed up in something designer. Scarlett is like a mini version of her mom; her satiny black hair is pulled back into a perfectly neat ponytail and she’s wearing brand-name everything from head to toe. It’s easy to feel plain next to Scarlett Hastings.
“Okay, we can do this,” Rachel whispers to me through a forced smile.
“Hi Scarlett,” I say.
“Could we interest you in a coffee or a chocolate-chip muffin?” Rachel points to our snack station.
Scarlett’s mother glances at our muffin display, rolls her eyes, and then shakes her head no.
“Do you realize how many grams of fat are in those muffins?” Scarlett sneers.
“They’re low-fat,” Rachel exclaims. “It said so on the package!”
“They’re from a package?” Scarlett throws her head back, laughing. “How pedestrian!”
“Pe-dest-what?” I frown.
“Low-class,” Rachel whispers quickly.
“Low-class?” I grit my teeth.
Scarlett’s mother raises her eyebrow at Rachel, takes one sweeping glance at our stuff, and then walks away, leaving Scarlett behind with us.
“Can I help you find something, Scarlett?” I ask.
“Find something here? You’ve got to be kidding,” she scoffs, picking up my Hollister hoodie.
“Well, why are you here, then?” I frown. “I mean, isn’t this a little too pedestrian for you?”
“Yeah, you’re right, it is. Actually, we’re looking for antique furniture for the summer house.”
“Antique furniture? Try over there,” Rachel makes a face, pointing toward Gertrude’s place.
“Oh, that’s where everybody is,” Scarlett chirps with a smirk. “Good luck selling any of this junk.” She walks away laughing, tossing my once-prized hoodie over her shoulder and onto the grass. How freaking rude!
After Scarlett makes her exit, the morning turns around, and we start selling like crazy. It’s like people are almost throwing money at us. And what a wonderful feeling it is to see kids all over the neighbourhood holding our balloons and eating our Jumbo Freezies.
At 1:00 we decide to pack up. Since I’ve been handling the money end of things, I count up the profits while Rachel loads up my dad’s car with the leftover stuff for Goodwill.
“How much did we make?” Rachel squeals, excitedly.
I smile. “Well, the good news is we made a profit.”
“Rachel’s face falls, “The good news? What’s the bad news?”
“We didn’t make as much money as I thought.”
“Yes, we did!” Rachel argues. “We made tons of money. We made enough for the tickets, right?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly? How much did we make?”
“Ten bucks.”
“How could we have only made ten bucks?” Rachel cries. “We sold tons of stuff; I even sold some of my artwork!”
“Well, maybe our expenses were too high.”
“Our expenses!” Rachel exclaims. “Hannah, you said you were good at handling money! How much were our expenses? How much was the ad in the paper?”
“Well, the ad was cheap because I split the cost with the neighbourhood,” I say, “and Gertrude lent me the money for our supplies. Wasn’t that nice of her?” I smile hopefully.
“Super,” Rachel answers sarcastically. “How much were the balloons?”
“Only a dollar-fifty each.”
“One-fifty each!” she yells.
“They were filled with helium!”
“Well, how much did you sell them for?”
“How much did I sell them for?” I frown. “They were freebies. I gave them away!”
“How many, Hannah?”
“Only thirty.”
“Oh, Hannah …” Rachel lets out a deep sigh. “Please tell me you charged for all of those Jumbo Freezies.”
I look down at the ground.
“Hannah!”
“Well, the balloons and the Freezies brought in a lot of business! So did the samples!” I add.
“The samples?” Rachel asks slowly.
“Yeah, well, the muffins weren’t selling so well, so I cut some up for a little try before you buy. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“I thought we sold all those muffins.” Rachel frowns.
“Well, we sold a few and I ate a few, and the rest I gave away.”
“Oh, Hannah …” She closes her eyes and sighs again.
“Sorry,” I say, wiping a crumb from my mouth.
“What now?” Rachel shakes her head.
“We try again.”
“Another yard sale?” She looks horrified.
“Of course not!” I sneer.
Rachel throws her arms up. “Then what? What are we going to do?”
“People want to spend money, Rachel. We just have to figure out what they want to spend it on.”
“Yeah, that’s the challenging part, especially since we have nothing left to sell.”
