The Vulnerability of Pink

SoDa PoP STeaLeR

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MARINETTE WANTED NOTHING MORE than to clock out of her cumbersome job. Being a college student restricted the range of career options, leaving the dark haired girl no choice but to work at a Wendy's. Because there seemed to be limited luck on her side, she wasn't a burger flipper. Instead, she slaved over the arduous buttons of the cash register, dealing with particularly moody people who wanted to run out just as badly as she did.

There was a small possibility that she could be promoted to day manager. Not that it was her dream, but moving up had its perks.

The only factor that would hinder her chances was a fellow named Harold. He was the biggest butt kisser toward their current manager. As soon as no one was watching, he'd roll his eyes or make a disgusted face. The most irritating quality of his was how much he flirted with her. Marinette knew that he hadn't meant anything, that it was all harmless advances.

Each move ground her gears.

So, there she was, her shift about to end when he sauntered in, chipper as ever. Marinette had pulled a double, and her appearance had served to testify. Her once pristine ponytail was mangled, shirt untucked and dark circles under her usually glowing, blue eyes.

It had been a long day to say the least. The only aspect that got her through the extensive shift was the radio that played her guilty pleasure genre; bubblegum pop.

"Hey, Mari. Looking beautiful as ever," Harold sweet talked, leaning in to whisper into her ear. She grimaced. "Get back."

"Aww, don't be so sour, Sugarplum," he said, gently placing his large hand on her waist. Marinette shot him a glare that spoke a million furious words.

"Achoo!"

Startled, her focus shifted to the customer just calmly standing there. Shoving Harold and his grabby talons away from her figure, she spoke, "I'm sorry. What can I get you?"

The boy, who looked to be around her age, grinned. "I'll take a double hamburger, large fries, medium onion rings and a cup for water," the blonde customer ordered evenly. She grinned a fake smile, thanking him for his purchase before handing him a small cup. "Thank you," he said, looking like he wanted to say more before being shoved by the impatient bunch behind him.

Technically, she had two minutes of her shift left, but she rolled out early, dumping the snotty nosed family into the grimy fingers of Harold. "Have fun!" Marinette chortled as she hung her apron up in the back. He saluted her.

While she was clocking out, her eyes caught sight of the blonde boy. She only caught the last few seconds he was at the refreshment fountain, halfway unsure of what she had just witnessed. If she was right, she felt betrayed.

Maybe it was the arduous hours she had just spent slaving, or her passion for justice, but either way, she had stomped outside, catching the boy before he jumped into a populated truck. Marinette knew she was about to make a scene; there had been a crowd of his friends hanging out in the bed of a worn down truck.

"Excuse me!" she called out, instantly grabbing his attention. He pivoted toward her, one foot hiked up on the car. "Yes?" he questioned, his brows furrowed.

"Did you put fruit punch in your water cup?"

He slyly smiled, hiding his teeth as his eyes glimmered mischievously. Not giving her a straightforward answer of any kind, she proceeded.

"That's not very nice, you know. It causes us to raise our prices, because thieves like you steal and we have to compensate somehow," she argued, growing aggravated.