After Piper and Charlie left, I went up to my room and flopped on my bed with a notebook.
Six hundred dollars. How hard could it be?
I started making a list of ideas:
Walk dogs: $5 per walk
Wash cars: $10 per car
Sell lemonade: $1 per cup
I did some quick math. If I walked dogs every day for three months, that was… I counted on my fingers… ninety days times five dollars… four hundred and fifty dollars. Still not enough.
What if I walked TWO dogs at the same time? That would be nine hundred dollars! But wait, did I know anyone with two dogs who needed walking every single day?
I chewed on my pencil and stared at the ceiling.
Maybe I could start a cat-walking business. Did people walk cats? I’d never seen anyone walking a cat, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. I could be the first professional cat-walker in town. I’d charge twenty dollars per cat because it would be so unique.
I wrote it down: Cat-walking: $20
Or what about renting out stuff? My little brother Jake had a million toys he never played with anymore. I could rent them to other families for parties. Like, five dollars to rent his old superhero costumes for a weekend. Ten dollars for his remote control car.
Toy rental: $5
I was getting excited now. The ideas were flowing.
What about selling things that didn’t cost anything to make? Like… invisible hats! I could tell people they were the latest fashion trend. Very exclusive. Fifty dollars each.
Invisible hats: $50
I giggled. A silly idea, but I wrote it down anyway.
I was on a roll now. I could teach other kids how to ride bikes. Or start a homework-doing service for lazy kids. Or sell my autograph to people who wanted to say they knew me before I became famous. I could even rent myself out as a professional little sister to families who only had boys.
Bike lessons: $15
Homework help: $25
Autographs: $5
Professional little sister: $10/hour
Wait, what about a business where I’d follow people around and remind them of things they forgot? Like a human sticky note!
Human reminder service: $20
I looked at my list. It was getting pretty long. And pretty weird.
The problem was, most of these ideas required me to actually know people who wanted these services. And I wasn’t sure anyone in my neighborhood needed their cats walked or wanted to buy invisible hats.
I flopped back on my pillow and groaned.
What I really needed was an idea that lots of people would want. Something that didn’t require special skills or equipment I didn’t have. Something that actually made sense.
I stared at my ridiculous list again. Cat-walking? Invisible hats? What was I thinking?
I crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room.
“I need an actual idea.”