Five minutes later I’m intercepting Sage as he’s leaving the gift shop. It takes all my strength to keep my breathing steady and calm.

“Done already?” His shoulders relax, as if he’s relieved by my early reappearance. Thankfully, he’s too young to understand that a short interview usually means it didn’t go well.

“I’m glad you haven’t hit the pool yet.”

“I was burning time in the gift shop.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “There is so much Guarderobe swag for sale in there. I got distracted. This place is so awesome.”

His smile is so contagious I’m able to hide the desolation of my interview failure.

“Well look at this.” I flash the signed parking pass I’m holding. “We’re okay to stay here all day, and we can even sleep here tonight if we want. For free. I thought we could at least ride the water taxis? Peek through the park fences. Check out more of the area. Maybe I can apply at the other hotels nearby? Any rock-star sightings?”

“Nope. Not one.” He sighs so mournfully that we both laugh. “What do you mean apply to more hotels? Didn’t you get the job?”

“They’re still deciding. Lots of people to interview. But they’ve got my information, and I figure it’s always good to have a couple back up options, right?”

He nods. “How will they call you if we don’t have cell phones?”

“I told her I would stop by her office tomorrow to check in. People do that,” I fib, realizing it’s not really a fib, because if we do sleep here in the garage tonight, I am going to go back up there before leaving. When you’ve reached this level of low, what’s one more groveling, begging day?

There’s always hope.

Like…Mrs. Hildebrandt could be fired by tomorrow and I’d get to meet the new human resources manager?

There’s no point telling Sage how the woman took only two minutes to clear her office from the likes of me and my low-class sort. She never even interviewed me. She’d also called me a liar because I’d typed that I was already eighteen on the application. I explained that we’d driven so far to accommodate her schedule; and I reminded her that I wasn’t supposed to have this interview until next week—after my birthday—so I thought it would be okay.

Instead of earning me the motivated-job-seeker brownie points I’d hoped for, she called me sneaky and devious! I couldn’t even deny that accusation, because ever since we snuck out of Joanie’s house and started stealing oatmeal packets from hotels, sneaky and devious describes my whole persona right now.

When they pressed me with questions about Mrs. Felix and the baby, and how maybe it was my fault they’d left in such a rush, and then started pressing me for information on the baby and the ‘mom who had the flu’ that was it for me. With my head high, I told them the truth, that I didn’t know Mrs. Felix or the baby’s mother, and then I said, “I’m sorry I can’t work here, and thank you for your time.”

Somehow I held it together, pulled out my parking ticket and asked them to please validate it. At first Mrs. Hildebrandt told me they never validated anyone, which I’d already learned from the website was not true. Once I explained they’d be seeing a lot more of me until I could panhandle the fifty-five dollars I’d need to exit this place from her fancy guests down in the lobby, Mrs. Hildebrandt saw the light. She found this special parking pass in her desk and put her name right smack in the center of it. She even picked up the phone and called the valet manager herself.

I almost laughed when I realized she was talking to Angel the garage manager. No way did I let on that I’d already met the guy, either. I’d promised not to get him in to trouble, and promises, just like secrets, I keep. From what I overheard on the phone call, Angel was also pretending we’d never met.

Mrs. Hildebrandt told Angel that she needed some trash removed from the premises as quickly as possible. And, could Angel please drive my car to the entryway himself, and to look for a girl with frizzy blonde hair and a questionable outfit? Apparently, Angel was to make sure he and security personally helped me get into my car and drive away!

When she hung up, handed me the card, and told me where to go, I was seeing fury-fire-balls instead of the mean-girls in front of me. Instead of telling her exactly where she could go and bursting into tears, I clenched my teeth and stared at the parking pass. That moment of composure earned me payback from some higher power, because that’s when I noticed Mrs. Hildebrandt had unknowingly done us a huge favor.

The small print on the pass said it all: Compliments of Belle Paris Management, One Day Free Valet Parking, Valid 24 hours.

This means we don’t legally have to drive out until we’re good and ready. Heck, if I’m lucky the stupid car will run completely out of gas on the way to the front entrance, which might mean Angel and his security guards would have to fill my tank with free gas in order to drive it back to the parking garage when we don’t show up as ordered.

Despite what Mrs. Hildebrandt told me to do, she’s made it clear she’s not my boss. And because it’s a free country, I don’t have to do what she says despite her orders.

I also already know that Angel is off work at five because he told me so. I’m assuming Mrs. Hildebrandt is probably working the nine-to-five shift, because that’s the hours all office people seem to keep. I’m also sure neither of them will stay one minute past the end of their shifts to wait for us to finally appear. So, at that point, and when we are good and ready, tomorrow after a good night’s sleep, that is, Sage and I will valet for our car, tip the four dollars we have left, and leave here without being even more humiliated.

In the meantime, this trash and her amazing little brother are going to forget some worries for a while and try to have what little fun we can.

“Earth to Robin? What’s the plan?”

“Still formulating. Sorry. I’m kind of tired from driving all morning. All the interview stuff was also exhausting,” I evade, pulling him close with a quick, over-the-shoulder half-hug that’s more for me than for him.

He glances around to make sure no one is looking before he hugs me back, then nods to a crowd of families going inside the Belle Paris pool gate. “How about we try to grab some lunch and rest here a some? I still want that nap. Besides, look at all the wasted food.” He points to a busboy hauling a giant tray of stacked plates each with what appears to be half-eaten food on it. “There has to me more where that came from.”

My stomach spins and twists at the sight of the food. Sage’s puppy dog eyes follow the disappearing tray as though he might chase the busy boy down. Figuring the hotel pool is probably a great place to hide out in plain sight until they stop searching for us at the front entry where we’re supposed to appear to collect our car, or even at the water taxi stops where they would assume we would head if we wanted to go somewhere else, I shrug deciding, why not. “Sure. Yes. Let’s enjoy this place and get something to eat.”