Three days later, I was sitting on a bench at Riverside Park, staring at the fifteen dollars in my hand. It was more money than I’d ever earned before, but it felt like nothing compared to the six hundred dollars I needed.
I’d tried two businesses and barely made enough to cover a pizza. At this rate, I’d be ninety years old before I earned enough for Florida.
Maybe everyone was right. Maybe six hundred dollars was impossible for a kid.
The park was busy with families having picnics and kids playing on the swings. Everyone looked happy and carefree. I felt like the only person in the world with an impossible dream.
“Hey, Kiora!”
I looked up to see Reese jogging toward me. She was wearing her soccer uniform and had grass stains on her knees.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, plopping down next to me on the bench.
“Feeling sorry for myself,” I said honestly.
“Why?”
I told her about the lemonade disaster and the dog-washing chaos. By the time I finished, Reese was trying not to laugh.
“I’m sorry,” she said, covering her mouth. “It’s not funny. It’s just… you chased a soapy dog through the neighborhood with your mom?”
“In her pajamas,” I added miserably.
That did it. Reese burst out laughing. “I wish I could have seen that!”
“It wasn’t funny at the time.”
“No, I bet it wasn’t.” Reese got control of herself. “But Kiora, you made fifteen dollars washing one dog. That’s pretty good.”
“It’s not enough.”
“So? You’re just getting started.”
I shook my head. “I’ve tried two different businesses and they were both disasters. Maybe I should just give up.”
Reese stared at me. “Give up? You? The girl who spent three hours trying to beat level twelve of Super Mario even though you kept falling in the same pit?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
I thought about it. “Because that was just a game.”
“And this is just business. Same thing. You keep trying until you figure it out.”
“But what if I never figure it out?”
Reese stood up and brushed the grass off her shorts. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But I don’t think you’re going to give up. You’re too stubborn.”
“I’m not stubborn.”
“You are. And that’s a good thing.” She grinned. “Besides, you’ve already proven you can make money. You just need to find the right way to do it.”
After Reese left for soccer practice, I sat on the bench for another hour, watching kids run around the playground. A few of them had bought snacks from the local convenience store – chips, candy, sodas.
The concession stand was busy. There was always a line.
I thought about what Reese had said. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was being too hard on myself. I’d only tried two ideas, and I’d learned something from both of them.
From the lemonade stand, I learned that location and product quality mattered.
From dog washing, I learned that some businesses were messier than others.
But I’d also learned that I could make money. Fifteen dollars for one hour of work wasn’t bad, even if it did involve chasing a dog through the neighborhood.
I folded the fifteen dollars carefully and put it in my pocket.
Maybe I could try again. But this time, I wouldn’t just copy ideas from a book.