Odd [re-writing]

7. The Star Wars Cliché

in which, you get a Star Wars reference

Plot Twist: *made by a hotdog-eating twelve-year old

MY FACE WAS planted on the snack bar counter when someone knocked their fist on the wood beside me. I slowly raised my head and saw someone staring intently at me, with a frown. Or a scowl. Or maybe it's better if we call it, a murderous, deathly, grimace.

"Uh, hi?" I waved awkwardly, stuttering

"Miss, if you think the counter is some backyard garden that you'd plant your face on, please think again." He was crossing his arms, giving me a disapproving glare.

I shook my head rapidly "Oh! N-no, I'm sorry. Sorry." I told him, feeling my cheeks heat up as I adjusted my glasses. It's just a boy! I groaned inwardly as I composed myself. It was just a fucking boy who looked like he was twelve, and I have been reprimanded by him.

I've been moping in the snack bar for a whole thirty minutes, ignoring my friends' calls and messages since I didn't want to die young. So far, I've been ignoring all the people around me, giving off this 'stay-away' aura or whatever you call it. I'm thinking it's actually working. Or maybe they thought I was such a loser that it would get risky if they stayed a meter close to me. I can't blame them though.

"Well, please don't do it again." He let the frown disappear, and sighed heavily as he took a seat beside me.

Okay, but why the sudden seat beside me? What's he planning? I discreetly inched away, wary. He looked like someone between age of twelve or thirteen, spring green eyes and messy blonde hair, cheekbones that girls his age would probably die for. But the thing is, he's wearing this ridiculous pale yellow shirt with "Jenny's Snacks" scribbled across it and cargo pants with his name plate pinned on the bottom of his shirt, instead of the usual mainstream, pin-it-on-the-right-side style. I narrowed my eyes and read the name.

"Troy," I read aloud "Huh," I let out "Funny."

His head snapped towards my direction "Just so you know, my last name's not Bolton." He rolled his eyes and shook his head softly. Seconds later, he eyed my half-eaten hotdog. "You having that?"

I furrowed my brows at him "Do you want it?" I pushed the hotdog towards him and he shrugged, biting it. I leaned back to look up to the sign above the snack bar, confirming my assumptions "Is there a rule in the place you're working for that you're allowed to eat customer's food?" I gestured to the huge banner that read "Jenny's Snacks"

He grinned at me, mouth partially filled with food "It's the end of my shift anyway."

I tilted my head to the side "So you work for Jenny's Snacks?" I asked him and he gave me a 'duh' look that I found myself grinning at, even though under normal circumstances I'd be glaring at him and telling him to fuck off. There's just something about this kid "How old are you anyway? Ten?"

He glared at me, but it was just impossible for him to do so, now that all hostility faded from his face "Thirteen, give or take" he mumbled, finishing the hotdog "I'm turning fourteen by October, so don't worry I'll catch up with you by then."

I scoffed "How old do you think I am?"

"Fifteen?" He answered innocently and I scowled "Oh shit, you're not?"