Shattered

6: Banana Pancakes

"Makin' banana pancakes, pretend like it's the weekend," came Jacob's singing voice in the kitchen. 

"It is the weekend," mumbled Brianna as she sleepily emerged from her bedroom. The kitchen was dimly lit as it was still dark outside in the early morning.

"Yes, and I am making banana pancakes," smiled Jacob, taking a spatula and arranging the dark pancakes onto a plate.

"They look," said Brianna, examining the plate,"scrumptious?" 

Jacob continued dancing and humming to himself as he fixed more pancakes. Brianna plugged her nose and made a gagging noise behind his back. Cooking was definitely not Jacob's specialty. At least he could sing well.

"Morning," said Brooke hurriedly as she rushed down the hall, trying to put her hair back in a ponytail as she did so.

"Morning," said Jacob cheerfully. "I made pancakes for you, if you want them."

He gave her a pathetic look, and Brooke felt obliged to eat one of his pancakes. She forced it down her throat, and grimaced slightly, trying to look like she enjoyed them.

"I think the bananas ruined them," she said as she looked around for her jacket. "I don't think Jack Johnson should influence your cooking."

"Come on, I had to try it!" said Jacob defensively, as Brianna laughed to herself.

"Try one yourself," said Brianna, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Fine," he said with a smirk on his face. He picked up a pancake and took a generous bite out of it. He swallowed and gave the two sisters a triumphant smile. "Delicious."

"Delirious," muttered Brianna, her comment unheard as she opened the refrigerator.

"I'm off to work now, have a lovely day," said Brooke as she opened the door. "Don't forget to go to church and take notes for me."

"We won't," said Jacob, his mouth stuffed with pancake.

"Bye!" said Brianna.

Brooke blew them a kiss and disappeared out the door. It was dark outside, for it was not even 7:00 AM. WIth only the small lights on the doors guiding her, Brooke carefully and quietly walked down the outdoor steps, not wanting to wake her neighbors.

She walked slowly through the parking lot and across the street to Todd's Diner. With only one dimly lit streetlight to guide her, she walked with caution.

Approaching the old building, she slammed on the front door. The owner, Mr. Jenkins was very hard of hearing, so this was a necessary routine.

With a red hand, Brooke entered the diner; the door having been opened finally by Mr. Jenkins.

"Good morning," said Brooke as she went to put on her apron. She realized he had not heard her, so she repeated her greeting a little louder.

"Good morning to you too, Miss Worthington!" Mr. Jenkins practically screamed at her. "Lovely day is it not?"

"Yes, quite!" she yelled back, unsure how one could possibly call the day 'lovely.' The sun was just rising, and the town was mostly asleep.

Without further conversation, Brooke began to wipe down the tables. Her feet already began to ache from her worn down tennis shoes, but she knew if she could make it through the day then she would be fine. The sun shone through the glass windows, lighting up the diner and revealing the street. 

As usual, Todd's was the only business open. Nearly everyone went to church on Sunday, except for those who couldn't, such as Mr. Jenkins, Brooke, and the spunky waiter Neil.

There came a pounding on the door, and Neil, with his spiky black hair and smiling face waved through the glass at Brooke. She returned the smile, however meekly,  and opened the door for him.

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he, too put on his apron. 

"It's fine, but you should tell Jenkins you're here," said Brooke, polishing a table as she spoke. "I swear, he's going blind, too."

Neil laughed. "Maybe he'll lose his wits next and give us higher pay."

"Now you're talking," said Brooke, shaking her head.

"I'm here, Mr. Jenkins!" Neil screamed, to which Mr. Jenkins grunted in response.

The waiter and waitress began putting the finishing touches on the tables, adding salt and pepper shakers, and little packets of sugar.

The bright morning was completely among them at last. Brooke unlocked the door, and Neil made the sign outside light up, announcing their opening. The two went back into the kitchen, awaiting their customers, while Mr. Jenkins hummed loudly to himself and began preparing the food.

The morning dragged on, with customers coming and going. It was quiet and nauseating with the smell of breakfast food flooding Brooke's senses. It made her lightheaded, and caused her work to be much harder. She prayed as she worked that she would receive a few decent tips to be able to prepare a nice meal. Jacob was gracious with offering to cook, but they needed a real meal.

She was tired of asking Mrs. Scull if Brianna could stay for dinner. She was tired of loaning money from the bank, when she had no idea how she was going to pay it back. There was nothing she could do about it. Besides, it hadn't been her fault that she was left alone. 

The business slowed down almost completely, for most had gone to church already. Brooke envied them, for she used to love going to church on Sundays. She would be much happier if she was allowed an hour or two off on Sundays, for she swore she would return as soon as the service ended. But instead, Neil and she had to stay there, twiddling their thumbs, awaiting the lunch crowd.

But as they leaned against the wall, waiting with immense boredom, there was a bell sounding, announcing the entrance of a customer. Both thought this quite strange, and exchanged curious glances to one another. They emerged from the door baring the sign "Employees Only," with Brooke in the lead. The words 'What can I get you' were about to escape her lips, when she hastily turned around, pushing Neil back through the door with her.

"You have to wait on that man," she said, her hands on his shoulders. The look she gave him was terrifying to witness, and Neil gulped with nervousness.

"If I say 'okay,' will you back away from me?" asked Neil, who was trembling at her grip.

Brooke relaxed, but her breathing was still heavy. "Please, I'm begging you," whispered Brooke, her eyes lined with tears. "Feed him, and get him out of here before the church crowd comes in. I don't want to speak to him."

"You don't have to talk to him," said Neil, puzzled at the situation. "Couldn't you just avoid speaking with him?"

"You don't know him like I do," said Brooke, her gaze fixed through the glass in the door, so she could get a better look at him. "He will do anything to speak to me if he knows I'm here. Please, Neil, just do it."

"Of course," said Neil, and he slipped through the door, greeting Bradley with confused warmth.

Brooke watched through the glass, ready to hide if necessary. She was nervous at the sight of him, and foolish though she thought it, was almost afraid of him.

As the minutes flew by, with pleads to Neil as he passed through, Bradley stayed put, slowly eating his french toast. Aggravated at his speed, Brooke paced back and forth behind the door. Only ten minutes, according to the analog clock, were left before church was dismissed. Then she would be forced to come out from hiding, for Neil could definitely not handle the customers on his own.

But the worst hit her, when in through the door walked Jacob, Brianna, and Brianna's friend Mica Scull. They were chatting happily amongst themselves, and took no notice of Bradley as they sat down at a booth. Brooke then knew there was no more hiding, for Neil was occupied in the kitchen. She would have to go face her fears. Her fears, in the form of her brother.