A/N: A deeper look into the life of a teenaged mutant who isn't a ninja turtle. (Sadly)
I worked at the diner on the corner of Berry Street and Hillcroft Street on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, sometimes random days or weekends. Five o'clock to seven-thirty. It was an odd schedule, but my boss was a leaned-back woman who was good friends with my mother and knew me through childhood, to my early teens, then to now, when I served fries and got paid.
I was punctual, usually, but after school, Peter and I had gone to a race track behind an old abandoned school and he had done laps to further demonstrate his ability then we talked. We talked for an hour about music and only music. He had something else to do, said goodbye, but by the time I had gotten to the diner, I was five minutes late for my 5:00 shift and I hated being late for the woman who was so at ease with my schedule.
"Well, if it isn't Miss Green, here five minutes late?" Said Queenie, the co-owner of the restaurant. Today she sported shocking blue eyeshadow and bright red lipstick that was both eye-catching and marvellous and I could see her husband Charles wave to me from the kitchen.
I set down my bag in the coatroom and dug out my uniform, "I'm sorry, Queenie, I just recently made a friend and I got a little caught up in a talk about a band we like and-"
Queenie placed her hands on her wide hips and swung her braids over her shoulder. "You finally made a friend? Oh, love, we've all been waiting for you to find a friend."
"Oh," I genuinely laughed, "Seems like everyone knows I'm alone." And Queenie shot me a knowing look and kissed me on the cheek.
"Glad you have a friend now, Venus, but be on time tomorrow, okay? Now go get dressed." She turned and looked at me over the shoulder, before sashaying back into the kitchen.
"I will, I promise."
I slipped into the washroom, discarded my jeans and t-shirt and slipped on the blue waitress dress. I buttoned it up the front and smoothed the plaits of the skirt down. It was cute, but was styled to bring the hungry working men in for dinner. Queenie let me button up the shirt and she made my skirt a little longer so that it was around my thighs, rather than my ass. I grabbed a banana clip and pulled my hair back so it was off my shoulders, but I left the bits at the front out, the way I always did.
Once I looked decent and ready to work, I pinned my silver nametag to my breast pocket and shoved my school clothes back in my bag, before heading into the kitchen to get my notepad and pencil.
"You have a proper friend now? Now you don't have to be friends with us," said Deborah, a fellow waitress of mine. She was eight years older than me and very tall, as well as very pregnant. "We've been talking about how you need friends your age." She gestured to the other waitress named Poppy, who was out tending to customers, and the three chefs, Robert, Sandra, and Margaret, who were all in either their late thirties or mid-forties.
"So my social life is a big topic here on Friday to Monday?" I chuckled, wrapping my short apron around my waist and tying it in a simple bow in the back, tucking my notepad into the pocket of it. "As grateful as I am you all worried for me, I've always been just fine."
Margaret laughed from where she stood over the stove, "Sure you have, that's why you're quiet as a mouse until spoken to. You need to pipe up, find someone who brings out your liveliness because we all saw how lively you can be in a comfortable setting." She waved her spoon in the air.
"I prefer to be adequately professional, that's all." I countered, but Queenie walked by laughing her loud, melodious laugh.
"Professional and silent are not one in the same, my dear," she said, putting on a hairnet and tending to a bubbling pot on the stove. "Speaking when you are spoken to is for the weaker links in society or for those who live in pure fear. You are neither, now get out there, a customer just sat down."
Life talks with my coworkers in the first fifteen minutes of my shift. Wonderful. I walked out into the dining area with a smile, greeting the mother and her daughter who sat down in the nearby booth. The little girl wore a crown and ordered a kids' cheeseburger and the mother ordered chilli and a regular hamburger with bacon. The people who came in here were often kind and open-minded, aside from some of the hungry businessmen. Queenie, Poppy, or Deborah usually dealt with them, while I dealt with families.
"I like your star necklace," said the little girl, pointing to the Star of David around my neck. I touched my hand to it and ran the chain through my fingers. "It's pretty."
"Thank you very much, I love your crown," I replied, smiling at her and tucking my necklace back into my top. As okay as I was with my Judaism, I knew a lot of people weren't, so I usually wore it under my clothing. I loved how unproblematic children were- but that was where the pros ended. "I'll get your order and be right back."
I head to the kitchen and handed Robert the order. He had it prepared in four minutes and I quickly made sure everything was okay, set it on the tray and walked with the tray to the table, my eyes focused on the chilli bowl and not spilling as I went.
I set the tray down on the table and tucked my hair behind my ear and my name was said. God, who let Peter in here and how did he find out I worked here? I grinned.
"Venus Green works at a diner..." he said as I handed the food to each of them. I had my nose scrunched in a bit of holding in my gladness that he was here and a little bit of knowing I'd be teased about this later.
I nodded as the little girl gave me a thumbs up with her cheeseburger. "Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. Fancy meeting you here on my days. I have an odd schedule so I'm not always here then, but you know."
"You know this girl?" The woman asked him quietly, but loud enough that I heard. I befriended him yesterday and I was already meeting his mother as his new friend.
Peter nodded and gestured back to me, "This is Venus Green, she's in the year below me and we are now the absolute best of friends, we go back all the way to yesterday afternoon when she shared her baby carrots with me. Venus, this is my mother."
I laughed a little before the woman smiled at me invitingly extending her hand to me. Her hair was a dark sort of blonde, very wavy, and she wore lots of eyeliner under her eyes, but she was beautiful nonetheless. I shook her hand, then the little girl's, who introduced herself to me as princess Wanda. I liked princess Wanda.
"We usually come here once a month on Fridays, but mom has a thing going on Friday night, so dinner was moved to Tuesday because princess Wanda said she craved french fries and mom was not up to cooking a meal," Peter explained, swallowing his bite. "I didn't know you worked here, but glad I know now." He winked at me, signalling that I was right- he would joke about this later. I shook my head knowingly at him.
"Alright, well, enjoy your food and just call if you need anything," I quoted my waitress lines and walked to the next table where another family had been seated. I glanced over at Peter who was watching and shot me a thumbs up. What an asshole. Hopefully, none of my coworkers noticed that interaction-- they'd either harass him or me and I'd lose the one friend my age. I turned to the family, "What can I get you?"
After a while, when families came, ate, paid, and left, things slowed down. Peter and his mother and younger sister had left and I had said goodbye with a smile and wave. Princess Wanda tipped her crown at me when she left. There was one man still here, eating pie and Robert and Poppy had left for home, while everyone else who was working was either on break or just hanging out in the backroom.
I was tending to the pie-eating man- he was a regular and he was very nice. A wholesome little grandfather who enjoyed rhubarb pie every Tuesday night. Queenie worried for his health, but the man was a string bean and told her he was 'due soon'. Sad, but not to him. I stood at the counter, counting my tips while he ate.
I had collected thirteen dollars in tips. I smiled, shoving the money into my pocket. It was a good night for the business here. People were hungry and I had lots to do, but I enjoyed what I did. I checked the money I had made for the diner and all of the orders I had taken amounted to about one-hundred-twenty.
"Venus," there was a voice in my ear. I spun around, there was no one there. That was extremely odd... I turned the other way and couldn't stop myself from jumping. "Got you." Peter grinned, holding up the tips that I had deep in my pocket. I hadn't felt him reach in.
"Oh my god, Peter, don't DO that." I sighed, putting my hand on my chest. "And give me my money back, you kleptomaniac." He handed back the money willingly and sat in one of the stools.
He looked at me from where he sat as I put my money back in my pocket, hopefully where he wouldn't try to reach for it again when I wasn't paying attention. "When do you finish for the night? I was a little tired of playing ping pong with myself, they were an awful player."
Looking at the clock, my work ended in ten minutes. Then did a double-take. "Ping pong with yourself?"
"Yeah, I hit the ball, speed over to the other side and hit it back," Peter explained, resting his chin on his hands. "So, when are you done this shift?"
I was busy imagining playing ping pong with myself when I answered, "Ten minutes." He snapped in my face, bringing me back to focus and I laughed into my hands. He grinned back. "I'll be out of here for the night at 7:30, so if you want to sit around for a bit and pretend you came back because your sister left something or order something, that would be so great."
He nodded in agreement and understanding- and I smiled as I went to check on the man with the rhubarb pie. Peter began fake-looking around the booth he sat in earlier and I nearly choked on the air in my mouth when he hit his head on the underside of the table. I kept checking around for Queenie or Poppy so that I wouldn't be teased to death or become more of their diner gossip.
They were sweet people, but with what happened earlier, they'd JUMP on any chance that I was involved with a boy. I had met the boy yesterday and we got along so well, you'd think we'd known each other for at least a month or two. In reality, we were both just the only weird-ass teenagers each of us knew of. I didn't need Queenie saying 'ooooh' every time I came in.
In ten minutes, I said goodbye to the rhubarb pie man, wished him goodnight while Peter sort of kept pretending to look. He kept looking at me every-once-in-a-while like he was bored and I just laughed at him and gestured to the clock.
When the time was up, Queenie came out to say goodbye and Peter bolted out of the room, quite literally bolting.
"Stay safe, stay away from men, love you, goodnight." She said, kissing my cheek and then patting it. I said goodnight and went to grab my regular clothes again in the back room.
Peter peeked his head out from behind the coat rack and checked around to make sure there wasn't anyone. I shut the door and he came into full sight.
"Where will you be taking me?" I asked, digging into my bag for my clothing.
"Not sure, I was bored and I happened to know where you'd be, so..."
"I don't usually do anything after work because I don't really have anyone to do anything with so again, it's entirely up to you," I rocked on my heels. "I just need to get out of my uniform."
"Got it," he grinned and then laughed to himself. I knew exactly what he was thinking and laughed a little to myself at my own wording.
I then pointed at him accusingly, but more to get his proper attention so that he would listen to me when I said what I needed to. "Promise me you won't super-speed into the change room to see me undress. I know that probably isn't your plan but I met you yesterday."
His face immediately fell and he was entirely serious, "I have no plans to disrespect anyone's privacy. I just met you, anyway." He played off of my previous words.
Nodding in agreement and thanking him, I opened the door to the washroom while my mind slipped into the gratefulness that he wasn't 'that guy'. I slipped into the washroom and he hid around the corner again in case Queenie, Deborah, or one of the chefs popped in.
I changed quickly and came back out. Peter offered to run me outside so nobody would see, but I pushed past him and showed him the back door. It was near summer, so off on the horizon, the sun made the sky a brilliant orange that was cast over our faces.
Peter squinted and pulled the sunglasses from his head down over his face and gave me a double thumbs-up as we walked away from the diner, to wherever he was taking me this time.
"Stylish," I said, covering my eyes from the sun. "A little step down from the weird goggles from earlier, but still very stylish."
He tipped them down at me, "Oh, I know. Goggles are more for running, but you're a slow friend and I have no reason to run right now, so it's just the glasses. On another note, nice waitress outfit." He was looking at me for an odd second and took off the sunglasses and held them out to me.
I pushed his hand away. "Thank you and no thank you to the sunglasses, Peter. I wouldn't dare steal your style, I'm fine with just my hand." I smiled at him and he bumped his shoulder against mine. I didn't mind it at all, in fact, I still had that feeling of euphoria and excitement that came with a new friend. It was so dumb of me to feel this way but with the schools I'd been in and with my standoff-ish speak-until-spoken-to academic mindset from kindergarten through middle school all the way up until grade eleven, I never got this sort of thing. Peter was here for three years and I only met him now, which seemed a little unfair in terms of chance. God-forbid I finally let myself have a proper friend who wasn't old enough to be my father."
He shrugged and didn't force me to take them, but we walked down the street picking up the conversation about music. But at the corner, he began asking questions. He asked me what my favourite food was, to which I answered strawberries and he told me he liked burritos when I asked the question in return. He changed topics like passing a hot potato.
"What's your favourite colour?" he said as I followed him around the turn, down the streets as cars passed and he walked in pace with me. "Green? Is it green, Venus Green?"
"It is green," I replied, chuckling. "I guess it's natural-also, I have this weird obsession with venus flytraps."
"I wonder why," he scoffed, looking down at me. He was smiling- he had a nice smile, so I used that to focus on as the cars began honking at a person who didn't move when the light on the intersection turned green. I needed a minute to chill myself out and Peter recognized that, staying right next to me, rocking on his heels. He knew to stop speaking when I paused my walking. That was greatly admirable.
When the cars moved, the honking stopped and I resumed my mind working, taking my focus back to the conversation. Peter turned and wiped his mouth and I smiled to myself because he thought me staring at him like that meant he had something on his face. It seemed like he didn't understand what I did to distract myself from too much sound.
"I have thirteen venus flytraps in my room," I told him as we began walking. Ahead of us was a gas station with neon lights glowing bright, even with the golden light pouring over it. Peter was taking me to the gas station convenience store.
"Thirteen?"
"Thirteen," I repeated it back to him as he looked at me in awe. "But I was named after the planet, so you'd think I'd at least be into astrology, but I take much more interest in the plant."
Peter started walking across the big parking lot to the gas station store, he walked backward to face me and nearly tripped over a cement block. He steadied himself as I hid my face in my sleeve to mask my smile. "Are you the type to name them?"
"Oh god, do you really want to know?" There was an unspoken look between us and he held the door open to let me go inside first as we both tried not to laugh. I carried my tips on me, so I had some money to spend. After a moment of trying to keep sane, we both took a deep breath and began to browse the store. "7-Eleven, wonderful," I said, looking up at Peter. "Is there a purpose to this visit?"
"They sell twinkies for twenty-five cents each," he shrugged with a playful look, holding up an individually packed twinkie. I scrunched my nose and he snatched it back. I wasn't the biggest fan of processed pastries, but didn't judge anyone who did. I looked over the bags of chips at my eye level and he eyed the ones at his. He teased, "Anything up here you want?"
"I can see and reach everything perfectly fine," I grimaced teasingly, seizing a bag of potato chips from the shelf in front of me, moving to where they displayed the cigarettes. I should probably stop thinking about smoking since I had a friend now. I didn't need this sort of pass-time.
"Meet you outside," Peter said in my ear. When I turned, he was gone. Oh, Lord- this boy really was a kleptomaniac. I wasn't the biggest fan of stealing, but wouldn't snitch. I paid the man at the front of the store for my chips and left three dollars in the donation bin as I walked out. Maybe I could make up for Peter's morals this way? I walked out a few steps and looked on my left, then to my right. Peter waved from around the corner and I huffed, walking up to him. Once in front of him, I poked him in the center of his ribcage, pretending to be angry but really trying to hold back a laugh.
"You fucking thief!" I breathed, laughing, standing there in disbelief. He shrugged and held up his loot. He took three twinkies and a root beer. I tilted my head, "How did you know I wouldn't turn you in?"
"You don't seem like the type to talk to people you don't know," he answered. So that was an obvious thing, hm? I was just more comfortable with people I knew, but Peter was right. His face straightened out and he looked at the things in his hands as I watched him, my mind wandering. "I won't do it again if you don't like it... or I'll go and put them back."
"I put three dollars in the donation bin to make up for your thievery." I smiled to assure him that I really wasn't angry. It wasn't like I thought less of him- money wasn't an important thing. He took his turn to analyze me, no doubt that he was checking to see if I was being real with him.
"Thank you," he said after a minute. It was beginning to get dark and the light of the sky had dulled and Peter put the sunglasses from his hair to the neck of his shirt. He shook his head, "Wow that's actually really cool, I wasn't expecting you to pay for my things in charity."
"Maybe I was godsent to keep you in check," I chuckled. "If I had super-speed I would probably steal myself a few things. So don't worry about it. Next time grab me something."
He grinned and bowed his head at me, dimples showing. We began to walk to the curb of the parking lot, sitting down on the rectangular cement parking blocks. I opened my chips and ate some, staring at the sky and heard Peter pop the cap on the bottle of root beer. He was playing with the paper on the bottle and I turned to look at him. He paused mid-sip and lowered the bottle to look at me in return. I shook my head and looked back at the sky. There was silence for a little while, but it wasn't awkward, it was calm.
"Lilith, George, Vine, Snap, Shirley, Lady, Cher, Dia, Killer, Florence, Plum, Bingo, and Seven," I spoke after a minute or two, popping another chip into my mouth and holding the bag of chips out to him. He looked at me sideways like I was insane and I couldn't help but laugh into my knees.
"You're a plant freak," he chuckled, taking a chip or two from the bag. He nudged my shoulder "You are so... god, you're so cool."
I shook my head, "Thank you, speed-freak." I looked back up and nodded. He set down his drink and put his sunglasses on my face, nodding the whole time like he needed precision. He nearly poked me in the eye with the leg of the glasses but I let him.
"Stylish and cool," Peter announced as the sunglasses slipped down my face. They weren't meant for my nose and kept slipping every second. He took another sip of his root beer.
"Could never outdo you, though," I countered, pushing them back up to the bridge of my nose, tilting my head up so they wouldn't fall again. The sky was dark and it made no sense to have them on other than for fashion, but really, who cared?
"I think you could."
"Really?"
"Nope," he replied quickly, spoken through chortling laughter. I shook my head at him, scrunching my nose again to keep the sunglasses on my face. His mouth was twitching at the end. "Not if you tried."
I was struggling really hard to not laugh anymore because my ribs began to ache. I liked the aching ribs, though. It meant I was happy. "Asshole," I muttered, giggling really hard. The word alone made Peter laugh louder than he had before and he wouldn't stop. Every time I thought he would chill out, we made eye contact and he launched right back into it. The sun went down and the only illumination was that of the gas station neons.
I was friends with a kleptomaniac speedster who laughed like a mad man. Not exactly sure what that said about me, but I was okay with that fact.