Night Life {Watty Awards Finalist 2012}

Chapter 11

"Hey, Oliver," I said in a huff, walking into the diner.

"How are you, Nicole?" Oliver asked as I walked by him, my arms laden with books, my camera bag, and the ripped remains of what used to be my bookbag.

"I'm all right," I answered, out of breath.

"I'll ask you the same question when you come back out and take my order," he replied. I looked at him questioningly.

"What do you mean?" I asked. His eyes sparkled knowingly behind his thick-framed glasses.

"You'll find out," he replied. I gave him an odd look before opening the door to the back with my butt. Just as I did so, I crashed into something. Or rather, someone.

"Shit," I cursed, as I watched all my books tumble onto the ground. I managed to hold onto my camera bag and the shredded bookbag.

"Woah, there," I heard the someone say. Looking up, I realized what Oliver had meant when he said he would ask me how I was when I walked back out. There, standing before me, the source that made my books fall to the ground, was Caleb.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," I grumbled to myself.

"What happened to you?" Caleb asked.

"Is it your first day?" I asked, ignoring his question and bending down to retrieve my fallen books.

"Yes," he answered, bending down also and collecting my books in his hands. He handed them to me, piling them on top of the books that were already stacked in my arms. We both stood and I swayed, trying to balance everything I had without having it fall again.

"Don't you have a bag for those?" he asked.

"I did," I replied, indicating the shriveled up bag that was dangling from my left arm.

"What happened to it?" he asked as I started to move past him. I tried to push open the door using my hip, but one of my books fell to the ground. Caleb reached down and picked it up. Then he pushed the door open with his hand and I walked into the back locker rooms. I stood gazing at the lockers, wondering how on earth I was going to open my lock.

"Here, give me some of those," Caleb said, making a move to grab some of my books. I turned away quickly, though, so he couldn't grab them. This, of course, only caused them to all tumble to the ground again. I groaned in annoyance.

"That's what you get for being so stubborn," he told me as he bent down to pick them up. I let him this time and turned to my locker to deposit my camera bag in it. I threw in the remains of my bag and turned to help Caleb pick my books up. After getting them into my locker and pulling on my waitress apron, I brushed back my hair, sighing in relief.

"So what happened to your bag?" Caleb asked. I realized he was still standing there waiting for me. Brushing past him, I walked back into the kitchens to find Steve. I didn't hear the usual country radio station or the sound of lettuce being chopped.

"Where's Steve?" I asked.

Jimmy, our second chef, walked out, wiping his hands on his apron and smiling at me.

"Steve took the day off. He needed time to crunch some numbers," he told me.

"Oh," was all I said.

"But lucky for you, Steve left a whole host of jobs for us to do," he continued.

"Like?" I asked.

"Well, for example, you have to train Caleb," he answere. I felt a vein in my temple throb. This was not happening.