I woke up the next morning with butterflies doing gymnastics in my stomach.
Today was the day I’d find out if I could get back to business or if my entrepreneurial dreams were officially over.
I tried to distract myself by reorganizing my room, doing some summer reading, and even helping Mom with laundry. But every few minutes, I’d catch myself staring at the clock like it was going to magically speed up time.
9:00 AM. Still too early to go to city hall.
10:30 AM. Mr. Chen probably hadn’t even looked at my application yet. Maybe he was still drinking his morning coffee and complaining about Mondays.
12:15 PM. Maybe he was reviewing it right now? Or maybe he was at lunch, eating a sandwich while my future hung in the balance.
1:45 PM. What if he forgot about it entirely? What if my application was buried under a mountain of paperwork like a lost treasure?
By 2:00 PM, I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I’m going to ride my bike to the park,” I announced to Mom.
“To sell snacks?” she asked, looking up from her laptop.
“No, just to… see what’s happening.”
What I really wanted was to see if Mr. Griggs was still there, still stealing all my customers with his flashy truck and carnival atmosphere.
When I got to the park, my heart sank. Griggs’ Grub was parked in the exact same spot, music blaring, kids lined up with their parents’ money. The third day of the tournament was in full swing, and he was making a fortune.
I sat on a bench far enough away that he wouldn’t see me and watched the steady stream of customers. Every snow cone he sold, every hot dog, every bag of cotton candy—that could have been my money if I hadn’t been shut down.
A familiar face caught my eye. It was Mrs. Patterson, the mom who’d asked about my business yesterday morning.
“Excuse me,” I heard her say to another parent. “Wasn’t there a girl with a snack stand here yesterday? My son really liked her candy bars.”
“Oh, the police shut her down,” the other parent replied. “Something about permits.”
“That’s too bad. She seemed like such a sweet kid.”
I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Now everyone knew I’d been shut down. I was probably the talk of the whole tournament.
At 3:15 PM, I couldn’t wait any longer. I rode my bike to city hall as fast as I could, my heart pounding with each pedal stroke.
The permits office was less crowded than yesterday. Mr. Chen was at his desk, surrounded by the same mountain of paperwork, hunting and pecking at his computer keyboard with two fingers like he was playing the world’s slowest piano.
“Excuse me,” I said, approaching the counter. “I’m Kiora. I applied for a permit yesterday?”
He looked up and adjusted his glasses. “Oh right, the twelve-year-old entrepreneur.” He shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk like he was looking for buried treasure. “Let me find your file.”
I held my breath as he searched through what seemed like hundreds of documents. For a moment, I wondered if he was going to need a map and a compass to navigate his own desk. Finally, he pulled out a manila folder with my name on it.
“Here we go,” he said, opening the folder. He pulled out an official-looking piece of paper and handed it to me. “Your permit decision.”
My hands were shaking as I took the paper. I didn’t even want to look at it in front of him.
“Thank you,” I managed to say.
“Good luck, kid,” Mr. Chen said, already turning back to his computer.
I walked outside to the marble steps where I’d felt so small yesterday. My fingers fumbled with the envelope as I tried to open it without tearing the contents.
Finally, I unfolded the official document.
At the top, it had my name and application number. Below that were several paragraphs of legal language that I didn’t understand.
But at the bottom, stamped in red ink, were two words that I understood perfectly:
PERMIT DENIED.