The Girl In Pecunia

6 - treading on eggshells

♕♕♕

Chapter 6

♕♕♕

Rule #89 of the Pecunia Rulebook:

The consumption of alcohol is only for Pecunians aged 18 and above. 

♕♕♕

After Nathan had left the fast food restaurant, the kitchen was constantly filled with high-pitched squeaks cooing about "Nathan's good looks" and "devastatingly irresistable charm". 

"Jeez, did you see how suave he was when he handed the money to you? Oh my god," Polly squeaked, her head jerking to make eye contact with Skye as she scrubbed the oily grease off a dinnerplate. Skye stifled a giggle, shaking her head. It was amusing to see how Polly reacted, though Skye must admit that she really did not make sense this time round. 

"Polly, you didn't really come across as the desperate type," Avery said in a monotonous tone, clearly unimpressed with Polly. 

"What? You can't blame me for behaving this way, Nathan is good-looking. I mean, look at his - "

" - why do you even bother? It's not like you can marry him," Avery snorted, and that effectively shut Polly up. A hurt expression crossed her features, and the dinnerplate in her hands almost fell to the ground. Skye knew that Avery probably did not mean to dash Polly's hopes, and just said that to have some peace and quiet.

It might be cruel, but a person could not marry someone who had a Level difference of 40, or above. 

Polly's lips trembled. "I know I'm a 34, but...whatever. A girl can always dream, right?"

"Right." Skye cut in, smiling at Polly. She returned Skye's smile with a huge grin, and just like that, her spirits were lifted up again. It was already nine in the evening, and the three of them were in the kitchen, packing up for the night. The restaurant's peak hour was normally at seven to eight o' clock, and the customers would already dwindle around eight forty-five. They could close the restaurant around nine thirty.

"Anyway, Skye, you can just leave. You will need more rest. Your wound will recover faster that way," Avery suddenly piped up, locking the storage cupboard with a twist of a key. Ever since the incident, Avery had requested for all the storage cupboards, whether they contained money or food, to have locks fixed on them. The manager was pretty unwilling to spend the extra money, but Avery managed to convince her that it was a necessary investment. 

Skye, of course, was more than happy to learn of this. 

Untying the apron from her waist, Skye bid farewell to the two girls. She left the restaurant, getting ready to head home.

♕♕♕

Skye took a deep breath before twisting the door knob and pushing the door open. She stepped in hesitantly, and to her utmost shock and surprise, she saw her mother sitting on a chair near the dining table. That wasn't a surprising sight, but the fact that she was, for once, sober, shocked Skye. 

"Mother." she blurted, getting over her temporary shock. Her mother was seated on a plastic chair, one of her legs propped on it as well. Her hand fervently rubbed a spot on her ankle, and Skye peered curiously at it.

Her mother looked up from her ongoing task, and her hand immediately dropped from her ankle like it was being set on fire. A sheepish expression crossed her features. Skye looked at her ankle, and gasped. A nasty, purple bruise was rapidly spreading over her ankle, and Skye wasn't sure if her mother had sprained it too when she injured herself.