Ｅｌｅｓｈａ　Ｃｏｆｆｍａｎ

The truth is hard to hide, even with whipped cream and a cherry on top.

“Scooby,your orders ready. Scooby-Doo,where are you?”Darren scampered away from the microphone,giggling. He looked around to see if Mr. Eakins was coming his way,but the boss just gave him “the look,” then continued tossing burgers on the grill.

“Nice one,Scraggs,”J.D. said, nudging Darren with his elbow. “You must really want to get fired.”

“No,man,Im just playin,”Darren scoffed. “How serious can I be? We work at the Whippy Dipp.”

Darren had a point, J.D. thought. It was difficult to be entirely serious when you worked at a restaurant that had a giant, smiling soft-serve cone on its roof.

“Whatever,Scraggs,”J.D. replied. “Just dont take me down with you. I need this job—Ive got to save up for college.”

“Oh,college money,”Darren teased. “Im sure theyll give you an Ultimate Frisbee scholarship. Of course, money does come in handy-like for the U2 tickets I grabbed last night!”

J.D. jumped, getting butterscotch sauce all over his sleeve. “No way! That show sold out in like 19 minutes. Howd you get em?”

Darren gave J.D. a wide grin. “A cable modem, my moms credit card,and lightning-fast,Nintendo-trained fingers. I got two tickets—you in?”

J.D. frowned. He knew hed have to pay back Darrens mom. And a ticket was pretty much a weeks pay. But he did love U2.

“What day is the concert?” J.D. asked.

“The 27th,”Darren answered. “A Friday. You wont even be sleepy for church.”

J.D. checked the schedule. “Im supposed to work the 27th,”he sighed. “I already asked for the weekend before,for my cousins wedding. Theres no way Eakins would let me have two weekends in a row.”

“Then call in sick,” Darren suggested, impatiently. “Youve got to come with me.”

Just then,Tonya turned from the cash register. “Ive got a taco salad, a Whippy Junior, two pizza burgers, and a banana split waiting. You goofballs want to at least pretend youre working?”

“Ill get the burgers, you do the split,”J.D. said. “And I will go to that concert. Ill figure something out.”

Two weeks passed and J.D. still hadnt found anyone to switch hours with him. He really didnt want to lie to Mr. Eakins,but on the morning of the 27th, he was out of options. At 5:30, J.D. quietly crept out of his bedroom when everyone was still sleeping. He headed for the telephone in the kitchen. No one would hear him call from there.

His hands felt sweaty as he dialed the number to the Whippy Dipp. He suddenly felt what he was doing was so wrong. Hed almost decided to hang up when the answering machine clicked on. “Welcome to Whippy Dipp. Our regular business hours are 9 a.m. to 11 p.m. ...”

J.D. cleared his throat. “This is. ... J.D. Im sick. ... somethings going on with my stomach. ... cant make it in today.”

He had done it. It bothered him that the lie had come out so easily. But hey, he thought to himself, this was just a one-time deal. It wasnt like this was ever going to happen again.

The concert was even better than J.D. had expected. It also didnt end until after midnight. The next day he looked worn out, red-eyed, and barely had any voice left—a pretty good imitation of a sick person. Not sick enough to miss another day of work,though. Maybe Eakins would even thank him for coming in and toughing it out.

Mr. Eakins did look surprised to see J.D. A little too surprised.

“J.D. Hammond, what are you doing here?” he asked. “You cant possibly feel well enough to work yet,not after how you sounded yesterday.”

“No, really, Im better,” J.D. said, straining his scratchy voice. “Ill let someone else call out the orders, but I can make stuff OK.”

“Oh,I really dont think thats a good idea,”Mr. Eakins replied. “In fact,I already took your name off the schedule for the whole week. Next week you can keep the restrooms clean,scrub some pans,clean the fryer, sweep the floors—whatever I can have you do that will keep you away from people. You might think youre better,but I dont want my customers getting whatever you had.”

He paused and stared hard.“I want to keep an eye on you.”

It wasnt J.D.s imagination. The look on Mr. Eakins face said it: He knew about the lie. Maybe Tonya ratted him out. Maybe Mr. Eakins was just sharper than anyone gave him credit for. But however he knew,he knew, and it would be pointless to argue.

“Youre probably right, Mr. Eakins,” J.D. said, by now really feeling sick. “I'll see you next Saturday, then?”

“Thats right. You just get plenty of rest.”

J.D. was about to get in his car when Darren pulled up.

“Where are you goin?” Darren asked. “Weve got the same shift today, right?”

J.D. kicked at a pebble. “We did. Eakins took me off the schedule. He figured Id be too sick to work today. He wont let me back until next Saturday,and then I have to spend a week doing all the stuff nobody wants to do around here.”

Darren laughed. “Man,thats low. Clean the toilets all week long. ... blecch.”

J.D. kicked another pebble. “Thing is, if I miss all my hours for a week, I wont have enough to pay you for the ticket until after the first of the month. Im sure your moms bill will be due before then. Ill have to ask my dad for the money.”

“Well,”Darren said, “you have fun with that. Ill stop by after my shift for the cash. Ill make an extra shake and bring it to you later. Drown your sorrows in chocolate, you know?”

“Dont bother,”J.D. mumbled.

Grabbing the newspaper when he got home,J.D. flipped to the back page of the business section. He had to check the interest rates. His dad charged interest on borrowed money,just like the bank did. This was supposed to teach J.D. good money skills. It was more effective at convincing him that he did not want to be a banker.

His dad walked into the den as J.D. was rummaging for a calculator.

“I thought you had to work today,” he said.

Another lie would just make things worse, J.D. decided. “I didnt really switch hours for last night. I called in sick. Mr. Eakins figured it out and took me off the schedule until next week.”

J.D.s dad chuckled. “Good for him,” he said. “I thought he was a little nutty to leave teaching and buy the Whippy Dipp, but those years at the high school gave him a definite knack for managing 17-year-olds.”

“Yeah,but now Im out a weeks pay,and Darren needs the ticket money.”

“Hence the paper and the calculator. Well,you draw up the loan contract and give it to me. I can trust you to be honest with the bookkeeping,right?”

J.D. tried to scowl, but his dads smirk ruined it. He sighed. “Yes sir,Mr. Hammond sir,you can certainly count on me.”