The Adventures of Slushie Girl [returning soon]

(preface) Freezie Expert

SLUSHIE GIRL: (preface)

     I never brushed my hair or did anything to it really and I refused to wear the embarrassing hair net that Josh, my boss had warned me a million times about, so it was never really surprising when a costumer came up to me with a complaint about my long blond hair ending up in their drink. 

"This is so gross, I was getting ready to drink it,"

"Drink what ma'am?" I said monotonously, I always found it odd to call someone who was only a few years older than me by such a formal name. If I had my way, I would call everyone 'hoe' because it sounded way cooler than that ancient 'ma'am' and 'sir' stuff.

"Your hair, I almost drank your fucking hair,"

"How do you know it was my hair, miss?" If there was one thing my father's lawyer taught me, it was to never admit guilt unless you wanted to be punished for something. I ran my fingers through my hair and strands came tumbling out onto my shoulders. I brushed off my shoulders looking up at the woman.

"Ew!" She practically yelled storming away from the counter after slamming her drink down. I picked up her blue slushie and started to drink it, my eyes scanning the food court. 

It was Saturday one of the busiest days in the mall and while most teenagers were getting ready for some rad party, I was stuck in the mall for an eight hour shift to pay off the car my dad had bought me last summer. Talk About child labor.

A catchy pop song was playing over the speakers and I was humming a long with it. It wasn't difficult to learn pop music when you worked in the mall, it played twenty four, seven, it made me wonder if the music directors of the mall were trying to brain wash every teen to either live 'young, wild, and free' or 'dance until the night ends'. With the schedule I had, I coudn't do either one. 

"Hi," Someone said making me look towards the front of the counter where a little boy stood. I looked down at him, a cheesy smile on my face "What's up little dude?"

"I want to get a slushie,"

"Alright, how much do you have?" Despite my obvious hate for most people, I had a soft spot for kids. 

"I don't know, can you come count it?" I frowned, a kid his age should've been able to count money but who was I? I couldn't hardly remember how to spell my name half the time. I continued sipping my drink as I made my way around the counter. 

"Alright, let me see the money," I said bending down, so that I was at his level. He smiled me pleasantly before digging in his pocket. Suddenly, his foot came up knocking me in my stomach. I was winded and dropped my slushie. The little boy picked up the slushie before running away with it laughing like a madman.

My eyes teared, I cried out in pain "Death! Death to all freckled faced children!"  I shouted, shaking my fist angrily, watching the little boy disappear around the corner toward the jewelry store, The people in the food court looked at me like I was crazy and one freckled faced boy, who couldn't have been older than three, started crying. His mother gave me the evil eye and I fought the urge to send it back.

I frowned as I stood up and made my way behind the counter. I took my rightful place in front of the cash register. That's what i get for being kind to someone. I looked at my reflection in the reflective side panel of the cash register, my hair was wild and my eyebrows looked extra thick, my lips were dry and on the verge of being cracked and right in the center of my forehead was huge pimple, glistening under the fluorescent lights of the food court with puss, begging to be popped.

I was just about to pop my pimple, when I saw West Highmore come into the food court in the reflection of the cash register. I immediately dropped my hands from my face and hastily started to fix my clothes. As he glided into the food court, everything seemed to be in slow motion. He was followed in by two other guys and two girls.

 I should tell you ahead of time that this is not a love story.At least it doesn't start out as one. I watched, waiting to see which booth he was going to choose, when he chose Panda Express, I wanted to punch a nun.

This story is more like Cinderella, if Cinderella was a seventeen year old freezie expert (as my boss liked to call me) working in the mall, smoking weed on break and missing out on any normal teenage experience due to a deal she made with her father involving a car. This is Cinderella, minus the fancy ball and the fairy god mother. 

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