By the time they pulled up to Mikey's apartment building, the rain was coming down in buckets. When the van stopped by the curb, he leaned up between the driver and passenger side seats to beam at the coach.

"Thanks for the ride home! Sorry you had to go out of the way, I didn't realize me and Woody were the only two who lived way out here!"

A mudcaked Woody grinned from the backseat, and their coach smiled. "It's no problem. I'm just sorry you boys got soaked- the forecast said no rain, so I didn't call practice but I think the clouds should have tipped me off, huh?"

Mikey giggled, and popped open the side door. "Well, at least we get to go home early, right? See you cats tomorrow!"

"See you tomorrow, Mike!" Woody called back.

"Hurry inside, kiddo."

Mikey hopped out and rolled the door shut behind him, then turned and rushed up the wet stone steps. It felt weird in cleats, and he almost slipped twice once he was in the lobby, but he made it to the elevator in one piece.

"Awww." Crestfallen, his shoulders sank a little at the handwritten sign taped over the button panel. "Out of order? But my legs are tiiired."

Trudging to the stairs he pulled open the heavy door with both hands and slipped inside before it could slam shut again, and started up the five flights.

"Well at least this way I can surprise the guys!" he told himself brightly, leaving a dirty trail on the steps as he climbed. "The elevator is so loud when it stops on our floor, they totally would have heard me. Oooh, maybe I can help with dinner!"

He trotted a little faster up the last set of stairs, and through the open doorway onto the fifth floor. He pulled his duffel around to dig around for his key when he made it to the door with a missing 505, and after a brief battle with the ancient lock, he was in.

Their apartment was sorta small; a kitchenette shared room with the dining room table and chairs, and the living room was only big enough for a lumpy couch and some beanbag chairs crammed in front of the huge entertainment center they scored for fifteen bucks at Goodwill. The T.V. was kinda old, and the only gaming platform they had was an old PS2 Leonardo brought home from a rummage sale.

But they had a DVD/VCR player and pretty much all the best movies in the world, and the landlord ran cable through each unit so they got like twenty channels and sometimes Cartoon Network came through which was awesome.

"Weeell, if nobody's out here they're probably having a family meeting. Boooring."

Mikey dumped his bookbag on one of their mismatched chairs by the dining room; he didn't have any homework, but he had a math test from last week he wanted Donnie to take a look at. He kept his duffel bag over his shoulder as he wandered down the hall, cause it was sorta dripping and he'd ask Leo if they should take it down to the basement laundry room tonight or dump it all in the tub and wait till tomorrow.

There were two bedrooms, and Mikey shared with Raph. They had moved in a couple years ago, back when Raph and Leonardo still fought like every day and night, so instead of doing oldest and youngest, Donatello offered to share a room with Leo if Mikey didn't mind bunking with Raphael. And, duh, he totally didn't!

By the time things between the two oldest of their little family mellowed out, everybody was comfortable where they were at. And since Leo was the oldest and Donnie was super smart, meetings usually happened in their room.

Sure enough, there was a sliver of light spilling through the cracked door onto the carpet in the hall. Grinning ear to ear, Mikey crept a little closer, and reached out.

"Money was tight again last month, but we made it," Raphael was saying, and Mikey froze with his hand on the wood panel. "Somehow."

"I have an interview next week for a job in tech support," Donnie said. Mikey could imagine him leaning forward in his desk chair earnestly. "The counselor at school showed me the application, it's sort of like a paid internship for students interested in IT. I think it's only like ten hours a week, but its eleven dollars an hour, and I could work from home. That would help, right Leo?"

"You know it would, Donnie." Their big brother's voice was warm. "But you don't have to do this if you don't want to. You can always change your mind if you don't like it and just focus on your grades."

Leo got his GED two months after he turned sixteen. As much as he liked school, their family was always Leo's number one priority. He was eighteen now, and after two years of online courses and student loans, he had an associate's degree and a position lined up as a PTA over at QHC, which was a really cool hospital, and only like twenty minutes from home. Leo was quietly passionate about physical therapy, and it was obvious to his brothers he was happy to be saying goodbye to his minimum wage job and starting an actual career.

Raph was a year younger than Leo, and he wanted to get his GED, too; but Leo talked him into graduating instead.

"It was really hard," Leo had told him gently, a hand on his shoulder. "And a diploma will take you farther than a GED took me. Just work part time, work the weekends. We'll make it."

"Of course I know that, but I wanna help," Donnie replied firmly. "I'm finally sixteen, so earning a paycheck is a valid option now. It won't be much, but it's something."

"Alright, so the budget this month is pretty much the same," Raph said, and Mikey heard papers rustling. He shifted where he stood outside the door; he didn't want to miss anything, but he'd hate to interrupt. He never really got to listen to budget talks. "We really gotta watch all the extras. And it's getting colder, so electricity will probably start going up soon, right?"

Leo hummed, an acknowledgement, and there was a faint scratching of pencil for a minute.

"Mikey's coach sent him home with this letter last week. It was sealed, so Mikey didn't peek. Their team is going to sectionals, so this went out to all the parents."

"Jesus, for real? What the hell does he need $150 for?"

Mikey felt his stomach drop; he sucked in a breath and held it.

"The soccer team isn't funded like the football team is. You know that, Raph, you played freshman year; once we paid your registration fees, the school provided you with everything else- travel, lodging, the whole shebang. But Mikey's coach has a lot less to work with, he really depends on parents stepping in when they can."

"That makes sense," Donatello said wearily. "How are we gonna fit that in, though?"

"We gotta think of something," Raphael said at once. "He loves that team. He was floating when he told us they won. It's bad enough we can never go to his games, we can't tell him he has to quit now."

"But we can't afford it, Raph," Donnie told him. "As much as he likes it, we just don't have the money. If all four of us could work, maybe, but as it is- both of your paychecks combined are barely enough to cover rent half the time, and I don't think we'll get another handout from the city's energy assistance program. The school soccer team is practically free, just thirty bucks for cleats and a jersey, so there was never a problem- we didn't budget for over a hundred dollars!"

"And I don't start work at QHC for another month," Leonardo muttered. "Once I have that pay coming in, a lot can change; we can get some new stuff- better furniture, a decent T.V. Maybe even start looking at better apartments, bigger ones. And Mikey can play all the sports he wants. But until then- I don't know what we can do. We're stretched about as thin as we can go without breaking."

Mikey blinked a few times, thrown for a loop. Things couldn't have been that desperate; they always had food, and old movies to watch, and loads of cool stuff from the Salvation Army. Mikey liked their stuff. What was Leo talking about?

Our money problems are really that bad?

"It's not like Mikey can earn the money for soccer himself- he's only fourteen, he can't work."

Something like panic or guilt or both was rising up Mikey's throat. It felt like he was going to be sick. I can't help it. I didn't know that's what the letter said, or I'd have thrown it away. I didn't mean to, I didn't know.

"No he can't, and that's just how it is. Come on, let's try to figure this out. He's our problem after all."

His hands went lax, duffel bag slipping out of his grip and hitting the floor with a muffled thump.

Problem?

"Wait, what was that?"

"In the hall- "

"No way. Mikey?"

But by the time Leonardo stepped into the hallway- took in the wet sports bag abandoned outside the door and the wet trail on the carpet- the front door was swinging shut and Michelangelo was gone.