I stare gloomily up at the ceiling. The fan wooshes repeatedly as thoughts swirl around my head. 

    If Mom won’t let me put anymore sugar because something about being wasteful, then how am I supposed to sell lemonade? 

    Last time I put one pound of sugar, that means this time I should put three. Right?

    I groan and climb down the ladder of my bunkbed. Boot, my russel terrier, barks and bursts into my room. He jumps up at me and knocks me to the floor. 

    “Sorry Boot, I’m not really in the mood.” I sigh as I pet his head. 

    I glance over at the huge pin board I made from discarded cardboard, one lonely page sits in the middle. It reads in blue, yellow, and green the words: Get Xbox. 

    “Wait! Boot! What if we try baking cookies? And we could still use three pounds of sugar!” I jump up, unceremoniously dumping Boot onto the floor. 

    I dart into our kitchen. 

    “Still stuck up on the lemonade idea?” Mom asks, tossing chopped up carrots into a pot.

    “No, I want to make cookies!” I grin up at her.

    “Sure, have you found a good recipe?” She returns the smile. 

    “No, I'm going to make cookies all by myself.” I reply and grab a metal bowl from the cupboard. 

    “Really?” She gives me a sarcastic smile.

    “Yep, I’ve already decided on my ingredients, sugar, rice, and cinnamon.” I collect each ingredient as I name them. 

    “What about eggs?” She laughs.

    “Ew, eggs are gross!” I throw the sugar into the bowl and seize our mixer.

    “You know what? How about I make the cookies, and you can sell them?” She asks.

    “Mmm, sure.” I leave my ingredients on the table and run back to my room. 

    Where I pull out a huge piece of cardboard and start on my sign. After all, every good store needs a sign.

***

    “Here mom! I made this sign.” I thrust my awesome sign out to my mom. 

    “Whoa. Umm, honey?” I let go of the sign so she can study its depths better and secretly grab the sugar from the cupboard. I pour all of its contents into her dough. I mix quickly. Then I put the container back.

    “Are you sure cookies are good for global… colding?” She looks at me suspiciously.

    “Yep, should we bake the cookies then?” I replied.

***

    “Come one come all! Make cookies great again! Save the planet!” I holler as I stand by my freshly baked cookies. They’re kinda flat. Mom said she must have accidentally put too much sugar. I told her it’s fine, but next time I’ll bake.

    “Hey! Those look good! How much per cookie!” A man strides up to my stall with a warm smile.

    “Twenty dollars!” I responded.

    “How about twenty for all of them?” He asks.

    “Fine. For global colding.” I smirk sneakily.

    One step closer to my Xbox.