It was Monday morning and I was in the kitchen, drinking my third cup of coffee. I had been there for a week and I was about to do something I never thought I would. I was about to start a job. A minimum wage job at a fast food chain, no less. Boy, if only the people back home could see me. No, forget that. I didn’t want anyone to see me. Especially not in that horrible polyester orange uniform.
“You know you don’t have to do this,” Van said, watching me with sympathetic eyes. I mostly thought she was trying not to laugh at what I was wearing.
“Yes, I do,” I replied quietly, taking another sip of my coffee.
“No, you don’t. It’s not like you need the money.”
I sat my coffee down and looked at her. “It’s not about the money. It’s about finding where I belong in this world. I don’t want to be someone who lives on their parent’s money and never does anything with their life.”
“What about acting classes?” she asked me. “You could take classes and do something you really want to do.”
I shrugged. “I might, but I’m not even sure if I want to act. It was just something I thought I could do.” I picked up my coffee again, drowning my sorrows in another gulp. “And I wrong about that.”
Van was silent for a moment. “You don’t have to work fast food. I need a new desk clerk at the hotel. I think you’d be great there.”
I shook my head. “No. You already gave me a place to live. I’m going to get my own job.” I glanced at the time, setting down my cup. It was almost time for my nightmare to begin. “Thank you, though. It was a nice thought.”
She shrugged as she grabbed her purse. “It was more than a thought. You should come work at the hotel. I think you’d really like it there.”
“We’ll see,” I said, grabbing my own purse. Prada so doesn’t match polyester. “You never know, maybe I won’t be destined for a life of fast food.”
She couldn’t help but grin at that. “Come on, I’ll drop you off on my way to work.”
Bell, Book, and Sandals Page 9
