The Weekend Job Promise

The Story

Difficult words are highlighted in yellow.

The smell of freshly baked waffles fills the air. The ice cream parlour hums with summer voices. Lotte straightens a cone and smiles at the tourist in front of her. Behind the counter hangs a sign: Reliability is worth gold. She’d never really thought about that before. Today, the words feel heavier.

As they close, Mr Vermeer looks up. “Tomorrow at ten again,” he says. Lotte nods. “Yes, I’ll be there.” And she means it. She loves the work, the rhythm, the quiet after school. On her way home, her phone vibrates. Nova sends a message about a festival crew: good pay, backstage pass, free food. *You should come*, she writes. Lotte’s heart skips a beat.

She rereads the messages. *Too well-behaved*, Finn texts a bit later. Lotte feels a sting. Part of her wants to prove she can be spontaneous — free, a little impulsive. At the same time a dilemma grows: join her friends, or keep her word. Heart or head. Fun or promise.

At home, she drops onto the sofa next to her mum, who’s reading a book. “You look like you’re arguing with yourself,” her mum says. Lotte tells her about Nova and Finn going to the festival, and how she’d promised to work. “Is missing one day really that bad?”

Her mum puts the book aside. “Do you know what a promise is?” she asks. Lotte shrugs. “Something you say, maybe?” “It’s more than words,” her mum replies. “A promise is an agreement between what you say and what you do. If you break it, something breaks inside you too — not just for the other person.” Lotte looks at the floor. “But everyone cancels sometimes,” she mumbles. “Then you can show that you’re not everyone,” her mum says softly.

The next morning the shop is busier than usual. Sunlight makes the ice in the display sparkle, and the bell above the door keeps ringing. Mr Vermeer moves back and forth, exhausted. “Thanks for coming,” he says. “Two others cancelled.” Lotte feels something warm rise inside her. It’s dignity — not because anyone’s watching, but because she knows she did what’s right.

On her bike ride home, she hears the festival booming in the distance. It sounds tempting, but also far away — and empty. Her hands smell of vanilla and sugar. The wind feels cool and clean. At home she opens her notebook and writes: *Faithfulness is choosing what lasts, not what lures.* She closes her eyes and feels peace settle in.