“I’m sorry, I… I… was trying to help.” The boy started whimpering. 

“Oh, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. We all make mistakes,” Philo comforted as he kneeled down at Jonathan’s level. 

“I’m so stupid,” Jonathan mumbled feebly. 

“No, you’re not,” Philo sighed, calming him down. “You just have to wipe tables a little less fast next time, okay?” 

“Okay,” Jonathan muttered. Philo glanced at the clock on the wall showing it was half past the hour. 

“What should I do?” Jonathan looked at the mess again. 

“Uh, nothing, I guess,” Philo breathed. “You’re going to miss your bus to St. James if you don’t go right now. I can miss my first period. I hate gym class anyway.” 

Jonathan reached out and hugged Philo. Philo hugged back. 

“Now, go catch up with Gabby!” Philo told him. 

After the little boy left the house, the room was dead silent. Philo groaned. He now had to clean more and walk the five miles to his high school. As Philo started sweeping the messy floor, the back door opened. Philo turned and saw Mr. Kelly walk into the room. Startled, Philo stepped back and landed on a big chunk of glass. He felt a sharp pain hit the sole of his foot, but Philo dared not move an inch. 

“I had a late night,” Mr. Kelly called out to the kids that were no longer around. “You all better be off to school soon. I uh—” 

He stopped in his tracks. All Mr. Kelly saw was the huge mess and Philo staring back at him. 

“What the hell happened here?” Mr. Kelly yelled. “Where is everyone else?” 

“It was an accident—,” Philo started. 

“You rotten kids!” Mr. Kelly bellowed. “I’m gone for just a couple hours, and chaos erupts in this damn house! Which one of them did this? Was it you?” 

“Well, I mean—,” Philo tried to explain. 

“I’m going to the advisory board and telling them eight kids is too many. I can’t handle this anymore. It’s all too much. I should never have signed for more than four!” 

Philo ignored whatever blood was surely leaking from the wound in his foot and continued to sweep while being yelled at. He wished he was invisible right now. A porcelain bowl whizzed by Philo’s left ear and hit the wall with a loud crash. 

“Hey! I’m speaking to you, dumbass!” Mr. Kelly yelled as the shattered bowl shards fell to the sticky floor. Philo turned around, terrified, locking eyes with the furious Mr. Kelly. 

“I swear, you’re all more trouble than you’re worth! Which one of them did this?” demanded Mr. Kelly, not giving up. 

“I did it,” Philo lied. 

Mr. Kelly cursed and rubbed his forehead. “Didn’t you learn from the last mess!? If you can’t do your simple chore, you’re transferred!” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up. You won’t even notice there was a mess,” Philo pleaded. 

“Hurry up then.” Mr. Kelly checked his watch and released an angry grunt. “If you don’t get to school today, I’ll get a call from that horrible principal.” 

Philo let out a sigh of relief and waited for any other commands. 

“Well? Stop staring at me like an idiot and get scrubbing! I have to get to the office before they realize I’m late.” Mr. Kelly stepped around the splatter and opened the fridge. 

“Oh, and we’re out of food again,” Philo mentioned as quietly as he could, to minimize the blowback he knew was coming. Mr. Kelly swore and slammed the fridge shut, almost knocking the door off its hinges. 

“More food? I don’t have time for this! What has my life become?” He brushed past Philo and stomped to the front door. “Don’t expect anything too fancy. Our budget is too low to feed eight ungrateful brats. Now, clean up that mess and get your ass to school!” 

“Yes, sir,” Philo responded. 

With that, Philo was left alone again. He let his chin drop to his chest and released a slow, deep sigh. Philo winced as he remembered the painful glass shard stuck in his bare foot. He carefully lifted his leg to inspect how gross the bloody wound became during Mr. Kelly’s tirade. As he scanned his sole, Philo was shocked to see no blood. That’s weird. Philo tugged on the sizable shard until it released. He stared at it for a second, then shrugged his shoulders. That was a stroke of luck that Philo wasn’t used to. 

While scrubbing the walls and mopping the floor clean, Philo hoped Mr. Kelly wouldn’t actually complain to the advisory board. Starting over now would be devastating. Philo threw the dirty wash rag in the sink with frustration, startling himself with the loud noise. Apricot jam splashed back to stain his school shirt. Philo scrunched his eyes and dropped his head in his hands. He didn’t want to cry this early in the morning. 

Whatever, Philo told himself. If he did get transferred, it would suck, but he’d been through worse. Philo put away the mop and grabbed his ratty, red backpack filled with outdated schoolbooks. He glanced at himself in the dirty mirror. The apricot stain on his shirt was never coming out. Philo groaned with annoyance at the mirror, hating his own reflection.