The Shortest Boss in the Room

by Zanaiah Williams

  “There are holes in the sides of the tub that blow streams of air into the water. That force makes the bubbles.”

  “Did you and Gran-Gran ever do this?”

  “No, baby. We never got the chance.”

  I didn’t mean to make Mama sad by asking about Gran-Gran. Daddy told me she had to go into a long sleep in this life to move to her forever life. I missed her. And she made the best cakes and cookies. Before she went to sleep, she even left me with a special book to write my thoughts in. Maybe that’s what I can do with Piper. Write about it.

  “I know you miss her, Zaria. I do too. But I also know something else is bothering you, right?”

  I shrugged. Mama knew me better than I knew myself. “Can I talk to you about something?”

  Mama closed the magazine she was reading. “Anything in the world.”

  I moved the plush gold pillow that said “Happy” from behind me and turned my body toward my mom. “Piper and I got into an argument at school yesterday.”

  “Oh no!” Ché said. “My daughters sometimes have friend problems. I tell them space, then talk.”

  “Is that what had you up all night?” Mama asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, what was the argument about?”

  “Piper was acting strange. She was rude to Mrs. Scott and Mr. Jean. She even ignored me when I tried talking to her. When she did talk, she told me to leave her alone.”

  “What do you think you should do?”

  “I’m not sure. She won’t speak to me.”

  “I’m confident that you and Piper will figure this one out.”

  “How, if she won’t tell me what’s wrong?”

  Mama thought for a minute before speaking. “Has she had trouble sharing things before?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “So maybe this thing is tough for her to talk about. So difficult that she can’t even tell you. Can you imagine that? Dealing with something so painful that you can’t talk about it? Not even to me?”

  I thought about Mama’s question. “You always told me I could tell you anything.”

  “That’s true. So, when were you going to tell me about your glasses?”

  My whole body jerked, and Ché chuckled. “I knew something looked different about you, Little Miss Zaria,” she said and started massaging my feet.

  “How did you know?” I asked Mama.

  “Mrs. Scott called me.” Mama had known the entire time. “The panic that came over you this morning was worth my silence.”

  “This isn’t funny, Mama.”

  “You’re correct. Withholding something like this is not funny at all, Zaria.”

  “I was waiting on a good time to tell you because I knew I’d be in trouble.”

  “So, you were finding it hard to talk to me about it? And in the process, you lied to me by not telling me what happened, and that doesn’t sound like you.”

  I was slowly starting to understand what Mama was trying to tell me. “Maybe Piper is afraid too. She’s doing things she wouldn’t normally do because of her fear.”

  “It’s possible, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I know you want to help Piper, but perhaps you can give her a little time like Ché suggests and like I gave you.”

  “Okay, Mama. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “Apology accepted, and it better not.”

  I sank into deep thought and watched the bubbles grow around my feet. Maybe Piper just needs a little time, and things will go back to the way they were. The Three Wayz weren’t breaking up. Not now. Not ever.

  Chapter 6

  Daddy was preparing dinner for us when we got home. He was famous in our neighborhood for his barbeque. All sorts of people would stop by when they saw the smoke rising from our backyard. We met tons of neighbors that way, and they always tried to get Daddy to tell them what he put into his secret sauce. He wouldn’t even tell Mama or me.

  “Welcome back. How did you ladies enjoy your outing?”

  Daddy was wearing his “Grill Master” apron from last Father’s Day. He wore it proudly every time he grilled. “It was so much fun. I can’t wait to go back.” I hugged him and showed off my newly painted fingers and toes.

  He kissed me on the forehead. “I didn’t get a chance to walk Zaddy, so go ahead and do that. Dinner will be ready soon,” he said.

  I called for my furry best friend. He hopped around in the air, wagging his tail back and forth. I clipped his leash onto his collar and headed out the door.

  The street was pretty empty for a Saturday afternoon, and I was glad for that. Too many cars made Zaddy nervous. If a vehicle honked or drove by too loud, his leash would slip right out of my hands. I would have to catch him and carry him back home. Good thing the park was only seven houses down from mine.

  Zaddy stopped in front of Piper’s old house and started sniffing the ground around the bushes. Piper’s mom would have decorated for fall by now, but the place looked bare.

  The argument with Piper was still bothering me, and I needed to talk to the peacemaker of the Three Wayz. I tugged on Zaddy’s leash a little. “Come on, let’s walk to Cassidy’s.”

  We jogged through the dirt path beside the park that led to Cassidy’s street. I wasn’t sure if her mom would allow her to have company so early in the afternoon. She had to do chores on Saturdays. She wasn’t even allowed to sleep in. Not on holidays either.

  I hustled up the stairs to Cassidy’s porch, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

  The door made a whiny noise when Cassidy’s mom opened it. “Good afternoon, Zaria. You know Cassidy can’t have any company until later this afternoon.”

  Cassidy’s mother was a beautiful lady. She was tall and reminded me of Princess Tiana.

  “I know, Mrs. Simpson, and I am really sorry. I need a few minutes. Please?” I gave her sad puppy eyes, a trick I learned from Zaddy when he’d want to play, but I couldn’t because I had homework.

  It worked because Mrs. Simpson called Cassidy to the door.

  “Only a few minutes,” she said before disappearing into the house.

  Cassidy joined me on the steps. “What happened with Piper yesterday? Did you get a chance to talk to her?” she asked.

  Zaddy got comfortable in between Cassidy’s feet.

  “I tried, but she told me to leave her alone,” I said.

  “Same here.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “You could have told me she said that.” I accidentally dropped Zaddy’s leash, but he stayed put.

  “I know, but I thought you would have better luck.”

  “Well, I didn’t. And she definitely stole that paper from Mrs. Scott.”

  Cassidy scrunched her face. “What? I heard you ask her about it before I left, but no way she did that,” she said as she shook her head in disbelief.

  “I didn’t think she would have done anything like that either. I told her to return it.”

  Cassidy made duck lips as she stared at the street. “Do you think she will?”

  “I don’t know, Cassidy, but it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Goodness, Zaria, you could have told Mrs. Scott.”

  “She’s our best friend. I don’t want her to get into trouble. Piper made a mistake, and my dad always told me that mistakes could be fixed. I would want a chance to fix it, and Piper deserves a chance too.”

  Cassidy shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, but you never would have smarted off to an adult or stolen anything.”

  “Neither would she, Cassidy.” I paused for a second. “We can’t give up on her. As her friends, we have to help her and encourage her to do the right thing. Unless you don’t want to be her friend anymore?”

  “Calm down. You’re overreacting!” Cassidy waved her hands
through the air. “I’m not saying we should not be her friends. I’m always the one that tries to patch things up, but Piper has been really sensitive, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “She’s awfully angry with me, and I don’t know if she’s going to return the paper to Mrs. Scott.”

  “If she doesn’t, are you going to tell on her?”

  “I don’t know. Should I?”

  Cassidy shrugged her shoulders again.

  “Piper isn’t a thief. She’ll give the paper back,” I said.

  Mrs. Simpson opened the door. “Break time is over.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Simpson, for letting me talk to Cassidy.”

  “No problem, Zaria. Tell your parents I said hi.”

  “I will. Daddy’s cooking on the grill.”

  “Your father makes the best barbeque in town. I told Queen he should start his own restaurant.”

  I smiled. “That’s a great idea. And my mom can design it and plan events there.”

  “Spoken by a child with entrepreneurial genes.”

  Cassidy and I eyed each other. “Mom, we don’t know what that means.”

  “An entrepreneur is someone who starts their own business. Like what your mom has done with her event-planning company.”

  “Oh. I understand now,” I said. “My dad can be his own boss like my mom is her own boss.”

  Mrs. Simpson winked at me. “Exactly!”

  “Thank you again for allowing me to see Cassidy.”

  I was even more excited to get home. Not only for the delicious food but also to tell Daddy how to become a BOSS!

  Chapter 7

  Daddy had dinner ready when I got back from walking Zaddy. He even had candles lit. Zion was our waiter again.

  “Daddy,” I said as I licked his famous sauce off my fingers, “you should be an entrepreneur.”

  Mama and Daddy laughed. “What makes you say that, Zaria?”

  “It was Mrs. Simpson’s idea. She said you had the best barbeque and that I had entrepreneur . . . something. I forgot the other word she used, but I think you should be one like Mama.”

  Daddy laughed and wiped his hands on his napkin. “You know all those trucks I have? And you know how sometimes people call me to ask me questions about work?”

  I nodded my head to show him that I understood.

  “That happens because I am an entrepreneur, baby girl. I own my very own trucking company. So, the people that call me, they call me because I’m their boss.”

  “Ooooh. Well, can you be more than one?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, can you own more than one business?”

  “Absolutely!”

  “Well, I think you should have a barbeque business too.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. If I decide to do that, I’ll be sure to name a menu item after you for giving me such a great idea.”

  I smiled. I liked that idea. I was even more excited, knowing that my name would be on the menu. “I have an idea.”

  “What’s that, Zaria?”

  “You can name your secret sauce after me. It can be called Zaucy Zaria’s or Zaria’s Zauce. Like sauce, but with a Z.”

  My parents loved the idea. Zion did too. He smiled with a mouth full of food.

  “Keep coming up with those brilliant ideas, Zaria, and you will be well on your way to becoming an entrepreneur yourself,” Daddy said.

  We talked about all sorts of ideas over dinner. When we finished, Daddy and Zion cleaned the kitchen while Mama and I got comfortable on the couch with our throw blankets to watch our favorite show.

  The theme music to Shark Tank blared through the surround sound. I loved watching it in the family room. The reclining seats and the big-screen TV mounted over the fireplace gave us a theater experience. The only thing missing was the buttery popcorn, the sugary fountain drinks, and candy. We had just eaten, though, so it was okay. I was stuffed and feeling a little sleepy. I lay my head on Mama’s lap as the first contestant stepped into the tank. “Mama, we should get a rug like that.”

  “The pitching rug would add a little color to this room, huh?”

  “The pitching rug?” Daddy asked.

  “You’re such an amateur Shark watcher,” Mama joked with him. “That’s what I call it. The contestants stand on it and pitch their ideas to the judges.”

  Daddy nodded. We had our daddy-daughter movie night every week, but he and I never sat down and watched Shark Tank together. It was usually Mama and me, but I’m glad that Daddy was joining us tonight.

  “You should watch it more; it’s a great show,” I said.

  “I just might. I’m sure I could learn a thing or two.”

  I smiled at Daddy and looked back at the TV as I held my breath when the first entrepreneur pitched her idea—some kind of popcorn invention. I don’t really know. Zion had already fallen asleep, and I wasn’t too far behind. While the commercials aired, I thought about how much I admired each participant for having the courage to appear before millions with a dream. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to do it.

  I opened my eyes when I heard the show’s theme music. The show was back on. The Sharks asked a few questions, and a couple of them whispered to one another. The whispering always made me extra nervous, but it was a good sign. It meant they were going to partner up and make an offer to the contestant. At least that’s what I hope happened. However, the sandman got me before I was able to see the end.

  Chapter 8

  I was confused by my blurry, unfamiliar surroundings. I could see enough to know that the people scattered near me were people I’d never seen before. They seemed to be around the same age as me, if not a few years older. They looked as nervous as I felt. I didn’t know why I was nervous. I just knew by the tingling in my stomach and my sweaty palms that I was scared. It was the same reaction every time I’d have to take a spelling test in school.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” I stopped a lady passing by. She was talking into the microphone of her headset. “Where am I?”

  She laughed. “Nerves getting to you, huh? It’s okay. It happens to most of the contestants.”

  “Contestants?”

  “Take a deep breath. I’ll get you some water,” she said and pointed to the wall behind me.

  The letters were big enough to see without my glasses, but I didn’t think I was reading them right. Somehow, I knew to reach for my glasses. They were hanging on a purple beaded chain around my neck. “That’s odd,” I whispered to myself. In all my years of wearing glasses, I never had a chain clipped to the arms. I shrugged—one way to keep up with them, I guess. I slid the glasses on my face, and the letters became clear.

  “No way! This can’t be happening.”

  “Here you go. Drink up and relax.”

  I guzzled the small bottle of water and continued to stare at the letters, wondering how I got here.

  “You’re pitching next.”

  I choked on my water. “Pitching what? Is this a joke? How did I get here?”

  The headset lady lightly patted my back. “You might be the most nervous contestant of all. You got here by filling out an online application for Shark Tank Junior.”

  “I don’t remember doing that.”

  She laughed and walked away.

  Another person with a headset approached me. This time a guy. His name tag identified him as a Shark Tank Junior producer. “Are you Zaria Carter?”

  I nodded.

  “Great. Follow me.” He walked away so fast that I had to run to keep up with him.

  I was nearly out of breath. “Where are we going?”

  “You’re up. Good luck.” He disappeared, and I was left alone, standing in a hallway facing double doors.

  “I’m really on Shark Tank Junior,” I squealed.

  The producer retu
rned. “On in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”

  The double doors slowly opened. The entrance theme music was mind-rattling. I bit the inside of my left cheek. Suddenly the introduction boomed from the speakers mounted along the walls. Strobe lights swarmed me like bees.

  “First into the junior tank is a sight for sore eyes . . . or less than perfect ones. A device that allows you never to turn a blind eye to anything ever again.”

  I floated until my feet rested on the famous area rug that every hopeful dreamed of standing on. Then I looked into the six junior judges’ faces. I knew a lot about them and how they got started, thanks to BrittBrax. She featured each of them on her channel to inspire the younger generation never to allow age to stop them from chasing their dreams.

  Morgan sat in the first chair. When he was thirteen, he founded a social networking app that he later sold for over four million dollars. I don’t know what that looks like on paper or in the bank, even, but it sure sounds like a lot of money.

  Next to Morgan was Bethany. At sixteen, she started an online consignment shop and evolved to a chain of youth clothing stores that also sold backpacks and lunch bags. Now, at nineteen, word has it that she’s worth millions of dollars.

  Devin was in the third chair. He was my favorite. He started his own clothing company at fifteen and was now one of the wealthiest teen designers in the world.

  Beside Devin was my favorite of the girls, Lauren. She signed her first record deal when she was thirteen. She topped country music charts week after week. Lauren reinvested in herself and has been unstoppable ever since.

  Second to last was Bobby, the quiet, bestselling author. At the age of fifteen, Bobby wrote a nonfiction novel about the connection people have with their pets. It was adapted to a documentary on Netflix. I begged my parents for a dog after that.

  Finally, Kyle, also known as “Little Magnificent,” was the shortest Shark. He got the name “Little” because, at eighteen, he was only five foot four. “Magnificent” came because he’s full of magnificent ideas. He later developed tutoring software and opened a chain of tutoring centers with an arcade feel. I’ve never visited any of his tutoring centers, but BrittBrax has, and all of the games are fun but educational. He loves to invest in business ventures that promote higher learning.