HotmailEver try guiding 13-year-old girls going on 30?
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On Sunday when I arrived to get Ashley, she got into the car looking irritated. “What are we going to do?”
“What would you like to do?”
“I don’t know.” I had assumed this would be the case given Ashley’s winning personality, so I’d come up with an option.
“Okay, well, I thought we could go to my apartment and make pita pizzas and rent a movie. How does that sound?”
“I don’t like pita pizza, whatever that is. I want to go out for Chinese food.”
“Chinese food it is.” I prayed that the Pick Up Sticks near my apartment ran their lunch specials on weekends.
We sat in silence over our orange chicken (full price). I tried to ask her all kinds of questions, but she gave her usual one-word answers or ignored me completely until we were done and I was settling up the bill.
“I want to go to the mall. I need some new lip gloss. Chanel.” You’re 9, you ungrateful brat. You don’t need lip gloss; you need a better attitude.
“Do you have any money?” I asked.
“No. Don’t you?”
“Um ...” I was actually hoping the $32 I charged to my Visa for the Chinese food wouldn’t put me over my limit.
“We’re not going to the mall. How about a walk in the park?”
“Terry always bought me lip gloss.”
On our way back from the mall, I dropped Ashley off at her home, where she hopped out of the car with her new lip gloss and ran into her apartment. No “You’re the greatest Big Sister ever!” No “I had fun.” Not even “Thanks.” At that point I would’ve been happy if she just waved.
Before pulling away, I reached into the Macy’s bag for the lip gloss I’d bought for myself and it was gone. That little bitch stole my lip gloss! And Red Serenade wasn’t even her color! I glanced down at the Big Sister literature I still had on my dashboard. “Volunteering is fun! Being a Big Sister is simple and rewarding. It is as easy as showing your new Little Sister how to play a favorite computer game, bake an apple pie, or reading the funnies together. We’ve learned that being someone special to a child doesn’t take much more than that. But the impact is huge — for both of you!” Ha.
The next couple of outings went about the same way. I’d suggest the park or a game of ping-pong at the local rec center and she’d look at me like I’d grown a mustache. We’d end up at an arcade or movie — where she’d need her own large popcorn, candy, and drink. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up — at this rate, I’d need a second job.
I didn’t see Ashley for two weeks. I needed the time to save up my energy and money for our next outing. During that time, she never called me, but her mom did again and again, leaving me messages.
“Ashley really wants to see you. When are you going to take her out?” Was that true? I wondered. Maybe she did want to see me. I wasn’t in the business of letting down 9-year-olds in need of my special brand of mentoring — even if they were kleptos. I figured hanging out with me was the only thing standing between her and juvie. And after all, it hadn’t been that long ago that I’d saved a certain group of 13-year-olds from a life of prostitution.
A few days later, I called back, and although Ashley was too busy to come to the phone, Patrice was kind enough to arrange for me to come get her the following weekend. This time I was determined not to clear out my bank account trying to outdo Terry. I had a lot to offer. I’d always considered myself to be pretty good company — especially if you like snarky humor. I was determined to have a breakthrough with Ashley. When she got in the car, I told her we were going to Color Me Mine. She looked at me like I had just suggested we spend the day collecting aluminum cans. It’s not like I actually wanted to go to Color Me Mine either; I had zero interest in painting a coaster shaped like a kitty cat or a miniature flower pot, but it seemed like an appropriate activity for a 9-year-old so I was sacrificing.
“I don’t want to go to Color Me Mine. I want to go see ‘Like Mike.’ Little Bow Wow’s in it.”
“Maybe next time. Today we’re going to go express ourselves. You’ll love it.” She didn’t speak the whole way there. I considered opening up a dialogue about how it’s wrong to steal lip gloss out of your Big Sister’s Macy’s bag, but I didn’t have the energy.
“I want to go home,” Ashley muttered under her breath, like a pouty toddler.
“Me, too,” I said.
“Are we at least going out to lunch first or are you going to let me starve?” I wondered what the Big Sisters Organization’s policy was on bitch slapping 9-year-olds.
At Color Me Mine, I realized I’d made a huge mistake. I would have gotten off cheaper if we’d gone to Magic Mountain. Painting a single mug was $15 and that didn’t include the charge for the kiln. Between the two of us, we weren’t going to get out for less than $40. To make matters worse, suddenly Ashley got into the gift-giving spirit.
“I want to make something for my mom’s birthday. And my cousin’s birthday’s coming up, too. Actually, two cousins ’cause they’re twins.” An hour and a half and $130 later, we were finally on our way home. I couldn’t wait to drop her off.
“That was boring,” Ashley said. “Terry never made me do stupid stuff like that.” Terry could have her.
When I got her home, her mother wasn’t there. I had called ahead and left a message, and Patrice knew what time I was dropping her off, so this was confusing to me. I tried her cell again and again but got no response.
“You can go,” Ashley said, letting herself into the apartment with her key.
“No. I can’t,” I said, following her inside, where she curled up on the couch hugging her knees to her chest and clicked on the TV. “I can’t leave a 9-year-old girl home alone.”
“My mom does it all the time.” Damn. Suddenly I felt bad. Poor thing. No wonder she was such a little deviant. We sat on the couch together in silence until her mother finally pulled up an hour and a half later.
On my way home, I called my Big Sister/Little Sister caseworker. “I have some bad news,” I said. “I won’t be able to participate in the program any longer.”
“That’s really too bad. Ashley seems to go through a lot of Bigs.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry but although I feel like I have a lot to offer, Ashley and I just aren’t connecting. Maybe you can get Terry back. She seemed to really like her.”
“Terry?”
“Yeah, her last Big?”
“We’ve never had anyone named Terry. In fact, her last Big Sister was named Jennifer and she only lasted one day.”
Of course. Ashley had been toying with me all along. I was actually relieved. I wasn’t a bad person. I was a giver. I was $1,000 in debt to prove it! I checked the coin compartment in my car and noticed it too had been cleaned out. Make that a thousand and two dollars.
“Would you be interested in being matched with another Little?” my caseworker asked, hopefully. Not unless you give them a background check. “The thing is, my schedule is really overbooked right now. But I’ll call you if things loosen up.”
I hung up the phone, put my foot on the gas, and turned on the stereo. Screw this, I have a real live little sister. I mean, she’s in her 20s and we have little to nothing in common, but at least she has her own bank account and is sharp enough to know that Red Serenade is not her color.
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