“Slade’s great with kids,” Mrs. Gonzalez piped up. “Max is taking swim lessons from him at the rec center, so I’ve seen him in action.”

I tried not to snort again. Okay, so it just so happens that I don’t know how to swim (yet), but that’s a whole other story. But seriously? Paddling around with kids in the shallow end and blowing bubbles? How did that compare to having complete responsibility for children all day? Including potential potty emergencies?

“Just think how much easier it will be for you, having someone to help wrangle the kids,” insisted Gillian’s mom.

Right. Like Slade was going to be Super Nanny. I fiddled with my binder and the sharp plastic corner dug into my leg. I remembered how I’d been stuck next to Slade during bio class last year.

“What is in that thing?” he’d asked, staring at my binder like it was a pile of toxic waste.

“Only my entire life,” I’d told him. “Homework, college apps, articles on time management, recipes, medical records—”

“You keep your medical records in there?” He’d stared at me in mock horror with those hypnotic topaz eyes, but I was unmoved.

“Not my medical records. They’re for the kids I babysit. In case of emergency.” Because you never knew when disaster might strike.

He’d busted a gut laughing in my face. “You’re a trip, Clemons.” His eyes weren’t so pretty then.

Mrs. Gonzalez’s voice jolted me back to the sugar-fueled tribunal. “We’ll still pay you the full salary we agreed on for taking care of both kids.”

That didn’t make sense. “Don’t you need to cut my salary in half? So you can pay Slade the other half?”

The moms gave one another cryptic looks that made my spine tingle.

Dr. Edmunds sighed wearily. It must be hard being a slacker mom. Or, a mom to a slacker. Whatever.

“Mrs. Gonzalez and Mrs. Forrester will pay you as agreed previously,” she said. “And I’ll pay you an extra half salary to…um…subsidize the time you spend mentoring Slade.”

Mentoring? That was so not going to happen. But I was still confused about the money. “Then who’s paying Slade? He’s not going to do this for free, right?” Not even he was that clueless.

The moms grabbed cookies from the platter. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who used sugar as a stress buster.

“I’m paying him,” said his mom, her voice soft.

I stared at her, shocked. What kind of guy would let his mom pay him to be “mentored”? And wasn’t she violating some code of ethics, doing this to her son? Maybe I should report her to whatever board regulated shrinks.

“He’s not going to know,” she said quickly. “He’s going to think the payment is coming from Max’s mom. We’re presenting this as you being Gillian’s nanny and Slade being Max’s nanny. But of course you’ll be the one in charge.”

My stomach flip-flopped. “I’m sorry, but I can’t agree to that. It’s not right. And it’s not fair to Slade.” I couldn’t believe I was defending the guy, but this was crazy sauce.

“All right, Trina. I’ll pay you an additional full salary,” said Dr. Edmunds, not missing a beat.

What the heck?

“Think about it, Trina,” said Gillian’s mom. “You’ll earn your full salary from me and Mrs. Gonzalez. And an extra full salary from Slade’s mom. Didn’t you tell me you wanted to buy a new laptop?”

These women were crazy. Maybe they were drunk. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at their glasses of tea. Suddenly Slade’s mom jumped up and started pacing, which had to be tough in the tight skirt she wore.

I reached for one of the homemade granola bars she had brought, then almost choked on the chalky, sandy grit lodged in my throat. Yuck. Apparently Slade’s mom was an even worse cook than mine. That might be the only thing he and I had in common.

“My son is a good guy,” Dr. Edmunds said, and paced some more. “He has a good heart.” Pace. “He just needs to learn some organizational skills.” Pace. Pace. “And he likes kids. This job will give him a chance to show what he’s capable of.” Pace. “To prove to his father…” her voice trailed away and she turned to me, her eyes full of unspoken pleas.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stuttered. “I never meant to imply that Slade’s a bad guy.” A total player, definitely. A slacker supreme, for sure. “But this whole idea just feels wrong and dishonest. Imagine if he found out—”

“He won’t find out.” Dr. Edmunds’s voice was firm.

“Not even his dad knows,” added Mrs. Gonzales.

Slade’s mom shot her the evil eye, and Max’s mom shrugged, looking embarrassed.

“This feels like a really bad movie,” I said. “One where you just know everything’s going to blow up in a huge mess at the end.”

I pictured Slade flipping out on me and shuddered at the image. Most popular guy in school goes ballistic on Bird Brain.

Bird Brain. I’d been pushing that memory away, but now it overwhelmed me.

In middle school, I’d started a petition to save a hawk’s nest in a tree the city was going to cut down. But Slade had nicknamed me Bird Brain and totally mocked my petition, so hardly anyone signed it, and the tree was chopped down. And the hawks didn’t make it.

So yeah, Slade was not my favorite person, not by a long shot. But this whole mentoring idea was whacked out. On top of all the money weirdness, there was the whole question of how incompetent he’d be with the kids. I just knew I’d end up nannying three kids instead of two.

Then again, if Slade was incompetent, maybe I could justify the extra salary from his mom. A new MacBook Air would be so much nicer than my ancient desktop PC. My mom couldn’t afford to buy me a new computer on her salary.

“Trina, this will benefit both of you,” Dr. Edmunds said in a soothing voice. I knew she was trying to hypnotize me into doing what she wanted. She probably had years of practice with anxious clients.

“You’ll have someone to help you with the kids, and Slade will learn from your example.” She paused. “You mentioned having the right to fire him. How about if we compromise? You send me a weekly report on how he’s doing, and if we agree that he’s not improving, we’ll discuss whether or not he stays on.”

Report on Slade’s progress? My stomach twisted in protest.

But that laptop was calling my name. And with the money I’d earn, I could help Mom out with expenses. Things had been tight lately, and even though she worked overtime at the hospital, we rarely had money left over for fun stuff. Maybe I could splurge on pizza nights and pedicures for us.

Max’s mom handed me a coconut macaroon, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Sort of like me, since I was about to cave.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it. But you all have to swear to me that he will never, ever find out about this deal.” I could only imagine how he’d feel if he found out his mom paid someone to mentor him. Ugh.

The moms nodded, their faces solemn with promises, and I wondered if this was how it felt to sell your soul to the devil.

I bet there were some awesome cookies in hell, too.

Chapter Two

Slade

Saturday, June 1

“I’m sorry, Slade, but that’s the deal. You either go to this interview or give up your allowance for the summer.” My dad leaned against the counter, sipping coffee from his NPR mug. His gray ponytail hung over his shoulder. He was a walking hippie caricature, right down to the beard, Grateful Dead T-shirt, and Birks. With socks.

I slumped in my chair and stared at the half-eaten homemade granola bar in my hand.

This sucked. My parents were forcing me to interview for a freaking nanny job. Not a normal job at the mall or a movie theater where I could see my friends and get discounts on cool stuff.

Who did they think I was, Mary Poppins?

“Slade, I know you enjoy spending time with Max,” Mom jumped in, playing mediator. She looked innocent, sitting there in her robe and fuzzy slippers, but I knew this crazy idea had to be hers.