"Sang," Mrs Jones calls, and I pause as the rest of the class heads out the room. I wipe my hands against my skirt as they're sweaty. When the door slams shut after the last person, she smiles at me warmly. "Mr Anderson would like you to meet him now. Your maths teacher has been informed."
"Mr Anderson?" I ask quietly. I'm not sure who he is.
"The guidance tutor," she replies, giving me a pink slip. "He's helping with college applications..." She trails off at my confused look, and sighs as she rummages through her desk drawer. A small 'aha' escapes her lips, as she shows me a sheet of paper. "Here, look. You signed up a few weeks ago."
"Oh, yes," I say, nodding.
I don't want her to think I'm weird... but I definitely didn't sign up for this. I've never seen that sheet before in my life—which is strange since my attendance is perfect and I always pay attention in class. I don't argue, because the extra help would be good. I'm at a loss in how to approach this next step, and if he's willing to help me, who am I to say no thanks? I thank Mrs Jones as I leave the room, and I walk as fast as I can over to the office. I hope that my conversation with Mrs Jones hasn't made me too late, and that Mr Anderson will forgive me.
I enter the office, quietly walking over to the desk. There's a student sitting glaring at me, and I'm guessing he's somehow already in trouble. There has been one class so far—homeroom—so what has he done to be sent here? My steps are silent; something that has been so ingrained in me that even though she's gone, and the abuse has stopped, my body still hasn't acknowledged the change in situation.
"Hello, sweetheart," the receptionist says, not looking up from her computer. "What can I do for you?" Her fingers are flying across the keyboard, without her even looking down at them. I'm capable of using a computer, but my skills aren't as advanced as this lady's.
"Hi. I've got a meeting with Mr Anderson," I reply, showing her my pink slip. Her eyes are still trained on the computer though, so she misses the action.
"Ahh, lovely. Do you have a slip?" she asks, and when I nod, and hand it over, she doesn't even read it before motioning to the corner. "If you walk around there, he's the first door on the left. Nobody is in right now so you can head straight inside."
"Thank you," I murmur, ducking my head on my walk past the other student and making my way to the door marked 'Mr Anderson'. I knock, lightly, because it's open, but I feel uncomfortable walking inside. The man looks up and smiles.
He's older, maybe in his early 50s, with black hair that's starting to grey. He's wearing a suit, but the jacket's off and the tie is undone. The relaxed attire whilst still being professional is to put us at ease, and now that I know that, my heart responds accordingly... by beating so fast and hard, that I can hear the echoing. He's deliberately orchestrated his office, and himself, to give off a tranquil vibe. How am I meant to feel calm right now?
"Hello Sang, come take a seat," his booming voice exclaims. He's smiling, and genuinely seems happy I'm here.
"Hi," I reply, unable to move because of how confused this situation is making me.
I didn't sign up for this session, and yet he's genuinely pleased that I did. Did I mess up by originally not signing up? Maybe I should tell him of my mistake, but still be appreciative and accept his help? This could be a mistake, and I don't want to take another students slot, and even if it's not my mistake, I still feel bad. How can I make this situation right without causing extra stress for anyone involved?
"Take a seat," he repeats, gesturing to the empty chairs in his room. My body cooperates, despite my mind whirring, and I slide into a chair opposite him.
"How are you doing?" he asks.
"I'm okay," I whisper, looking at my hands instead of him. I need to come clean. "I'm sorry... I really would like your help, but I didn't originally sign up for this."
"Some students signed up on their own accord, and some students were signed up by us," he says, his voice not wavering in its resolve.
"Oh," I murmur, finally meeting his eyes. "So I haven't stolen this spot from someone who needs it more?"
He laughs, and shakes his head, before explaining, "No, Sang, you haven't. I set up this meeting because your grades are exceptional, and I genuinely just wanted to check in and find out your plans for next year. Your senior year is an important year, and if the school can help you progress to the next step, we want to do so."
"It is," I say, placing my bag on the floor. His eyes follow the movement, and I bet he can tell it's because I'm a little less anxious. Maybe I'm reading into things and he doesn't actually care about my body language, and in that case, I really need to calm down.
"So, what are your plans for next year? Have you applied to college? Do you have a job?" Mr Anderson asks.
"I've been researching what colleges I want to attend, and I've got a plan ready for the application process, but help would be good," I murmur. "I want to go to college."
"That's amazing!" he exclaims.
He's very excitable, and it's kind of nice. My dad barely cares when he is home, and when he's not, I'm alone. It will be nice to have someone on my side when it comes to this, even if that supports comes from one of my teachers. It could be nice to have someone share in my excitement, to congratulate me when things go well.
"So, I've been told you use your study periods to learn another language," he says, and I nod. "Why?"
"I pick languages up quite easily, and it's something I enjoy doing," I reply.
Languages are hard, and it requires dedication to learn them. Whether that's remembering which end vowel to use for certain words in Italian or Spanish, or even the correct symbols for letters in Japanese. I love learning, and this is something I am good at.
"Amazing," he repeats, an intense expression on his face. His stormy grey eyes have either been lit up in excitement, or they've turned hard like now. I don't know him well enough to tell whether he's mad or just focusing. "Okay, so that's a good skill to have, and it'll really boost your resume. The issue is your extracurricular activities."
"I don't do any of those," I say, smiling. That's really good. Now it's one less thing we need to worry about, and it should make the application go easier.
"That is the bad news," he tells me, and my face drops. Oh. "Colleges like well-rounded people... and without the extra activities, then you lose that edge. Now, this isn't to say if you applied that you wouldn't be accepted, since it's not a guarantee, but this would really give you that extra push. Haven't you heard your teachers talk about them?"
"Oh," I respond quietly. I have... but I thought.... it doesn't matter what I thought. I need to fix this mistake, but the issue is, what can I do this late into the game? How can my extra curricular activities from this year help me get into college, when to anyone who looking over my application, it'll look like I'm only doing them to benefit myself? Which I am.
"It doesn't necessarily need to be a school event," Mr Anderson says, oblivious to my internal panic. "Volunteering works too."
"Volunteering with what?" I ask, latching onto that idea. Then I don't need special skills or equipment, and I could do some good. Is it still good if I'm using those hours for my own gain? When a frown falls upon his face, I eagerly add, "I'm open to doing it, I would just need more information."
"I have a friend who works at a hospital downtown, and you could help out there," he says, after a few minutes of thought. I'm glad he came up with something, because that silence was worrying. "If not, I've heard that you know sign language. I have a friend who can't speak, although she can hear, and could use an interpreter occasionally. This one won't be as busy, but it should still be good on your application."
"What would I do at the hospital?" I ask him, curiously. "I'm not a doctor or have any kind of medical knowledge outside of the biology curriculum."
He grins, which reassures me. "I'm sure he could use someone to help with admin, or filing. There's a lot you could do."
"That could work," I tell him.
"You could also do the interpreting," he says, sounding insistent. "That shows you're versatile, and have interests in more than just one thing."
"I wouldn't mind helping out," I offer. This could work. Volunteer with his two friends and it will help my college application be approved. I'm quite excited about this, because I have the chance to do some good. My mom spent a lot of time in hospital, and if me helping organise offices and file paperwork can help them do their jobs better, I'm all for it.
"Great," he says. "I'll organise with both of them and let you know by the end of the day. Could you come back here, for say 2:30 p.m.? I'll let your teacher know that you're going to be with me, and it means you'll not miss your bus home."
"Of course," I reply smiling. I stand, and go to offer him a hand to shake but he's not looking my way anymore. Slightly awkward. "Thank you very much for taking the time to meet with me, and for all of your help."
"You're welcome Sang," he says, dismissing me completely.
Leaving his office, I feel a lot more optimistic about the college experience, and it's all thanks to his support. I head over to my second period, AP Calculus, since the bell should ring in ten minutes or so and I'd only disrupt my first period class, and teacher. It's not his fault I was at the guidance counsellor.
As soon as Sang leaves my office, I pull out her file to have another glance. It's curious because there's practically nothing here. High test scores, and she's never missed a day of school since registering here in her sophomore year. There is a very barren file from her old school, but it paints the same picture. She's an extremely smart girl, none of her teachers have had any complaints and she's never been in any trouble whatsoever. She's very quiet and doesn't have any friends, but I'm not sure why.
I pull out the copy of her sisters file, adding it into my briefcase with Sang's. There's something very interesting I think Phil will like, and it might be the key to convincing him that we need to bring her to the academy. I deliberately orchestrated to have her put on my docket, and I think that she needs the academy—even more so than it needs her.
I took the job here after the Blackbourne team completed their mission during their freshman year. They discovered that the headmaster at the time had joined up with the superintendent of this district and a political figure to steal money from the school, and keep it in the very poor condition it was in. There was a set up for drugs, and they were behind a lot of issues extending past just the welfare of the students. It was an awful year for the Blackbourne team, but they caught on to his plan and got the funds back. The assignment took a toll on them, but they didn't let that stop them from success.
Their efforts allowed for a second school to be built, and this one has been greatly improved. From being the worst school in the state, to consistently being in the top five over the past four years.
This is where operation saviour came into place—Ben named it this, against most of our better judgement. I joined the staff as a guidance counsellor to assist in any issues that would arise from them leaving, but also to see if we have anyone that could be Academy material. I have been here for over two years now, this being my third and final. My plan is to leave at the end of this year, so as to not raise any suspicions. Someone else will take my place, and hopefully one of my team will be put into another school.
It was a good idea, and despite not gaining many new recruits, we have managed to help a lot of kids out of tough situations. My team have really enjoyed the hands on approach, and it's something we've slowly been implementing across the country. People need help and this is a good way to do it.
Now that I have Sang on board, I need to bring in both Phil and Dot.
Outgoing call to Phil Roberts
Phil: Harry?
Harry: Squirrel.
Phil: Needle.
Harry: I have a new crop for you.
Phil: Type?
Harry: Birds love it.
Phil: Interesting. Let's meet at the diner, say 12 p.m.?
Harry: Sounds good. Do you mind if Lily joins us?
Phil: Not at all.
Harry: Invite Dot, I haven't seen her in a while. She'll like this too.
Phil: No problem. See you later.
I hang up the phone, happy we have a plan. I didn't want to fill him in too much on the phone, since you can never be too cautious. My office is regularly checked for bugs, but Sang's situation is something that needs protecting. I text my wife inviting her to lunch, and she accepts. She will probably be worried for the next couple of hours, thinking that I've got another student for her to help. It's easier to let her think that, despite the discomfort, than explaining over the phone about Sang.
I spend the next couple of hours having more meetings with students talking about college prospects, before leaving for lunch. As my car pulls into a space outside the diner, my wife bounds over, worry etched into her face.
She's got a tense smile in place, and she's wearing a long-sleeved dress with knee high boots. She looks as gorgeous and graceful as ever.
"Hey sweetheart," I greet, pressing a kiss to her lips. She squeezes my hand when I pull away, and as we head to the entrance she's silent. I know this is one of her tactics to get me to open up—her psychiatry nature benefits her in a house full of men—but I won't be falling for it today.
A tall blonde man is smiling as we enter. I know he's one of Ben's nephews—the twinkle in his eyes is too similar to Ben's for it to be a coincidence—but based on the silent steps he takes walking over to us, I know he's the thief.
"Hi, my name is Luke I'll be your server today," he says, still smiling. "Do you want a booth or a table?"
"We're still waiting on two more people," Lily says. "But a booth would be nice, thank you."
"No worries," he tells us, leading us over to a booth in the corner. He's silent as he walks, something that makes me smile. Even when not on cases, his agile skills are so ingrained into him, that they're part of his normal demeanour. Once we're seated, he grins. "I'll grab another two menus ready for the rest of your party coming. Can I get you anything to drink whilst you wait?"
"Water for me please," I say.
"Can I have some sweet tea, Luke?" Lily asks. He nods and disappears.
"I wonder if Ben is here today," I muse, trying to distract my wife. I don't know why I try it; Lily is too smart for my tactics.
"Is everything okay?" she asks, not able to hold in her concern any longer. "How badly are we talking this time, love?"
"I promise you, everything is fine," I reply. "Don't worry so much. It's nothing serious."
I tuck her hair behind her ear, winking at her shocked expression.
"Not the time," she mutters, a pout forming. She's trying to get me to spill my secrets, and I'm not having it. I turn away, avoiding looking at her, because if we make eye contact, she'll win. She always wins.
The door opens, the bell ringing and we glance over to where Phil and Dot are walking over to us.
"Hey," Lily says, standing up. She hugs both Phil and Dot, before they sit back down with us. "Now spill, Henry."
It's very rare I'm called Henry, but my wife uses it for emphasis when she's mad at me. Harry is what I go by.
I'm saved from answering when Luke approaches the table with our drinks. He places them down in front of us, before focusing on Phil.
"Dr Roberts, hi," Luke says. He turns to Dot and signs hello, saying it aloud too.
"Hello," Phil tells him. "I didn't know you were here today."
"Morgan was called in on assignment and Uncle needed me to fill in," he replies, shrugging. I smirk when he signs, "I got that thing covered, don't worry."
"Where is he?" I ask.
"Who?" Luke queries, seeming confused.
"Ben," Lily says gently.
"Oh, he's in the back with North," he says. "I'll take your food orders then go grab him, if you want?"
"Sounds good," Lily says, and he quickly takes our food orders before heading off.
"Nice boy," I comment. He is, despite being a little airheaded. He's good at his job, and he was always polite when he came over to the house. Even if those times weren't always for his therapy sessions.
"When he's not breaking into homes, he is," Phil replies. Nah, even when breaking into homes he can be polite about it.
"What are we doing here?" Lily asks, her voice strained. If she weren't so worried about a student, I'd taunt her for a little longer.
"I'll tell you when Ben comes out," I reply, holding my smile even when she pinches my thigh. "Be patient."
"Fine," she sighs, turning to Phil, with her own perfect smile in place. "How's the hospital?"
"It's good," he replies. "There's still place for a psychiatrist if you're wanting a change of scenery."
"I'm enjoying what I'm doing now," Lily says. "Having people stationed in schools is really helpful. We've helped a lot of kids."
"Good. I'm glad the programme is working," Dot signs, leading us into the discussion of the other programmes. Some are doing well, some aren't but we'll figure them out.
"I come bearing food," Luke declares, a few moments later. He's barely been gone fifteen minutes, but I suppose since none of us ordered hot food, it's not very surprising. I notice Ben is following with his own food. Luke quickly hands over our food and turns to his uncle.
"What?" Ben asks him.
"Nothing," he mumbles, walking away.
"Okay, I've bit my tongue this entire time, fill us in already," my wife tells me. I smirk before turning to them all.
"There is a bird. Her name is Sang Sorenson. She's eighteen years old. 4.0 GPA and takes all AP classes—at a freshman college level. During her study periods she teaches herself other languages. She's quiet but extremely strong," I tell them. "I want a deeper background check done but from what I've learnt, she's clean. No bad comments from teachers or students. Never had a detention, nothing. She's so clean, it brings a new level to the word."
"Where do we come in?" Lily asks, frowning.
She's normally included when we need someone brought out of an abusive home or having problems with their mental health. I'm pleased that this isn't the case today. She's here to listen, and spend some time alone with me without the others. We all steal time with her where we can, even if we're a lot better with the sharing element now than we were at the beginning.
"You're here for lunch with your husband," I tease, and she beams at me. "Everyone else is here so I can arrange volunteer opportunities with the bird to assess whether she's our material. She's wanting to apply for college soon and she needs to bulk out her resume. I thought it would be a good chance to introduce you all."
"I trust your judgment," Phil tells me. "I can't wait to meet her."
"Same," Ben says, and although he wasn't originally part of my plans, I think working here would be good for her. I glance at Luke behind the counters, as he's humming a song whilst cleaning. Yes. She could fit in really well here, and potentially meet some new friends. Oh yes, Sang really needs a job here.
"There's something interesting too," I say, before hading them two different sheets. One is Sang's birth certificate and one is her older sister's.
"What's this?" Phil asks, his eyes raking over the papers confused. He's spotted the error, as anyone would, and I can see he's trying to piece it together in his mind.
"Marie Sorenson is Sang's older sister," I say after a few minutes. "I have her school file here too; you can all look over it. It'll let you see the differences in their education, and character. For now, though, look over those birth certificates properly. What do you notice?"
"They're the same," Ben gasps, a little slower than the rest of the table.
"Well done," I say sardonically.
"Fuck off," he mutters, catching my amusement. "The names and dates are changed but everything else is identical."
"Yes," I reply. "I think we could have a ghost on our hands. I want another background check done."
"I can offer work," Ben says, something I had already decided on. "Obviously, she can't provide paperwork but that's fine. Suggest that a part time job in a customer service setting will improve her resume."
"Good idea," Phil says.
"I told her you need help with admin," I tell Phil. "Or at least something like that."
"That works," he replies. "Once a week or so. I can organise some small tests."
"I want to do some tests," Ben pleads, glancing at me. I shrug, not caring as long as they don't alert her to the fact that this isn't just a normal volunteer experience.
"Don't blow this," I say, glancing at them both. "But what you do with her during your time is fine. Make sure you document any skills she displays."
"What about me?" Dot signs, once the other two have finished speaking.
"I told her you needed an interpreter for some events," I reply.
"That would be nice," Dot signs, nodding. "Yes. That should be really good."
We continue planning for another twenty minutes or so before it's time for me to head back to the office. I've been here a little longer than I thought, but it was necessary. They've all got copies of Sang's school files and Marie's so that they can look them over in more detail. I've given them a lot to think about, Sang could be a very good addition to the academy... but more than that, it seems like she really needs us.
When 2:20 p.m. rolls around, I raise my hand and my teacher allows me to head over to the administrative section, ready for my appointment with Mr Anderson. It made me nervous having to ask to leave, but we're just reviewing the quiz from last week, where I got full marks. It would be helpful to see if there was a better way to answer the questions, but college is more important.
After the receptionist lets me through, I knock on Mr Anderson's door which is closed this time.
"Hey, Sang, come on in," he calls. I open the door, and he gestures for me to sit down. His eyes rake over the paper in front of him, before he looks up at me with a giant grin on his face. "I've got some excellent news."
I slide into the chair, and wait for him to elaborate.
"I've spoken to Dr Roberts—my friend who works at the hospital—and he is more than happy for you to log some hours with him," he says.
"That's amazing," I say, smiling. That really is amazing.
"How is your schedule looking?" he asks, and he pulls out a sheet of paper. His eyes scan it, and I bet it's my schedule. "Okay, so what about doing one day a week after school? Just to start with?"
"I could do that," I say, before frowning. How am I going to get there? I don't drive, and my dad is hardly ever home. His gaze is reassuring, and I take a deep breath before asking, "By any chance... do you know if there is a bus that goes that way?"
"We can look into it," he tells me softly. "If not, we can arrange something else."
"Another place?" I ask, surprised.
"Another method of transportation," he replies. "I promise, there is always a solution."
"Okay," I mumble.
"Mrs Rose will definitely want your help," he says. "However, I was write about it not keeping you busy. She really won't be needing you permanently, but at least once a month for events."
"That's okay," I reply. I'm not concerned about logging a certain amount of hours. I really just want to help someone. I should've started planning for this years ago, but I didn't and that's on me. "I still want to help if I can."
"Great, I'll let her know," he says, before sitting forward in his chair. "Now, I know we didn't discuss this but whilst I went out for lunch, I was talking to my friend who owns a diner. He mentioned that he was hiring, and he's got a few employees your age there. I think you might like it there."
"I don't really need a job," I reply, frowning. My dad pays for my things and just wants me to focus on school. I don't know if he'd be happy with me taking a job.
"No, that might be true. However, working in customer service and dealing with the general public helps college admissions," he informs me. "College administrators see this kind of experience as a really good indicator of your character. Dealing with the general public isn't usually easy, and it can demonstrate your team working skills, your leadership skills and your communicate skills."
"If you say so," I mumble. I want to believe him, but it feels so strange that he has all these prospects lined up in a matter of hours. Maybe that's just how the adult world is. You have friends, and connections. As someone who has never had a friend—outside of the fickle friendships you have as a very young child—I couldn't say for sure.
"I do," he says, nodding. "The diner is only a ten-minute walk from your home too, so there are no issues about getting you there and back."
"That's a good thing," I muse. A blush heats up on my cheeks, before I gather the courage to quietly ask, "If I go, and it's something I don't like... can I leave?"
"Of course," he replies, gently. "The purpose of this is to give you skills that will help in the future—not to make you miserable." I nod, and his smile returns. "So, why don't you give it a few shifts and if after that, you really don't like it then I'll help you organise something different."
"Okay," I say, nodding gratefully.
"Great. Are you free today?" he asks.
"Yes," I reply, running through my schedule in my head. I have some school work to do, but not a lot. We're still early into the semester, and whilst my AP Calculus class has had a few tests, the others are still slow.
"Do you know where the diner is near your place?" he asks, and I nod. "Would you want to go by and introduce yourself today? Then you can sit and work out a schedule with Ben, the owner."
"Sounds good," I reply, holding in my panic. It's a simple introduction, Sang, nothing will go wrong.
"Then we can arrange time at the hospital," he says. "I'll also be passing your information along to Mrs Rose, if that's okay with you? It'll be your phone number that we have on file, unless that's incorrect."
"No, that's my number," I say. This is a lot, and very fast, but hopefully it'll help me get into college. I don't just want to go to the community college like my sister (although there's nothing wrong with that route).
"Lovely. Sang, don't worry," he tells me. "I can see you're worrying. Even without this, I'm positive you would get accepted into college. I just want to make sure that you have everything you need to have the future that you want."
"Thank you," I tell him softly. "You've honestly went above and beyond and I'm so grateful. I'll go meet with your friend once I've got home."
"You're welcome," he says, dismissing me. I smile and grab my things before leaving. It's just before 3 p.m. so there isn't any point going to my last class. I head towards the buses and climb on mine.
It doesn't take long for the bell to ring and everyone to get either on the buses or in their cars. It only takes twenty minutes before we pull up to my street, and as I get off the bus, I thank the driver. He's the same driver everyday, and yet I still don't know his name.
I walk to my house and notice my dad's car isn't in the driveway. Unsurprising, but still sad. It seems he isn't back from his trip yet. I head to my room and switch out my tennis shoes with some flats. I don't know what clothing to wear, but I'm sure my skirt and blouse will be smart enough. I take out most of my schoolwork, leaving my calculus things in. I can catch up on what I missed in first period if I need to wait.
Mr Anderson was right that it wasn't a long walk, and the name on the outside is 'Bob's Diner' which is a little strange. I'm positive Mr Anderson said the owner's name was Ben. I walk in the diner, and I glance around, marvelling at the large room, that has amazing decor. There is a large mural on the wall as you come in, and I'm taken aback with how beautiful it is. I don't know who did this but it's amazing.
"Hi," a girl calls, and I walk over to her smiling. "Are you okay?"
"I'm good thank you," I tell her. "You?" It doesn't hurt to be polite.
She nods, looking a little unsure, and says, "What I meant was, is there anything that I can help you with?"
"Oh, sorry," I say blushing. Silly Sang. "I was wondering if I could talk to the owner? I was here to talk to him about a job."
"Are you Sang?" she asks, and when I nod, she directs me to his office. No checking for ID—not that I brought mine—just genuinely trusting me. I think being around Mr Anderson all day has me examining people's motives. People are nice.
I walk along the corridor, and head into the back area. I count my steps as I walk, doing my best to keep my breathing even, before knocking on the open door marked 'Office'.
"You're not Luke," the man says, looking up at me surprised. "Luke never knocks."
"No. I'm sorry," I reply softly. "My name is Sang. My guidance tutor—Mr Anderson—sent me here, and the girl at the front let me back. I... um should I wait?"
"Yes, Sang, hi," he says with a large smile on his face. He waves me to a seat energetically, and sits up properly in his chair. "Come sit down. Sorry about the confusion, believe me, I'm really happy you're here. My name is Ben Taylor, I'm the owner here. I spoke with Harry—sorry, Henry. Wait, no, Mr Anderson. I'm so glad you've decided to accept a position here. Let's talk."
Despite seeming intimidating, I think that is just because his frame is quite large. He talks fast, flitting from topic to topic, and yet he's friendly and puts me at ease within minutes. I nod, smiling, engaging in the discussion with him. We talk about school, his family, and just genuinely trying to get to know each other. He's more of an active participant than I am—something that's not surprising at all—but he's sweet. I really am glad that Mr Anderson put us in touch.
"So schedules," he says, absentmindedly. We decided on doing two days after school, and one full day on the weekend, and see how things are in a couple of weeks. He seemed to adjust to my quiet personality, and made sure I was happy with what we agreed upon. It's nice... really nice. Two different authority figures have helped today, more than I've ever experienced.
I can feel myself starting to flag, the pressure of being sociable getting to me.
"I think this will work out little bird," he says.
"Me too," I reply. "Thank you for meeting with me, Mr Taylor."
"Call me Uncle," he replies, and when my face drops he grins. "Or Ben. Mostly everyone your age calls me Uncle though."
"Why?" I ask. I could kick myself for being so inquisitive, but that's a very weird statement, and I really want to know why.
"Two of my nephews work here," he responds. "It caught on. I don't know, it's just been something I get called. I mean my friends don't call me Uncle, that would be weird, but everyone else does. Actually sometimes Otto does."
"Oh," I reply. I think dropping it will be easiest on us both.
"You'll meet them at some point," he tells me. "I'm sure they'll love you." They?
"Thank you?" I reply. I'm not really sure how I'm meant to respond to that.
"Have you had food yet?" Ben asks me, concern etched into his face. I really don't think I can call him Uncle; it is extremely too weird... even for me.
"No," I reply.
"Why?" he demands.
"I came straight from school. I was going to make something when I got home," I murmur, avoiding his gaze.
"Eat here," he tells me. "Employees eat free. Plus, this way you can observe the place and see how it runs before your shift tomorrow. You can do schoolwork if you have some, but I'd feel better if you ate something."
"Sounds nice," I murmur. "Thank you."
He nods, and leads me out to the main area, gesturing for me to pick a table.
"I'll see you soon little bird," he tells me. "I'm looking froward to working with you."
"See you later," I say, waving as he heads to the counter.
He talks to a man... boy... person maybe a couple of years older than me. I flinch when the man's eyes meet mine, and quickly duck my head. I peek at them out of the corner of my eye though. He's got long har around his chin, that's brushed back from his face, with two locks tucked behind his ears. It's got coloured elements that are a light shade of blonde, with the rest being a rich brown colour. It's very pretty hair. He has very pretty hair.
His eyes meet mine, after mine unconsciously looked up again, and I can feel my cheeks heating up. Instead of being tempted to look over again, I pull out my schoolwork. I get lost in the world of Calculus. A little knock on my table startles me, and I glance up at the man from earlier. Oh no.
"Hi," he says softly. He seems a lot taller now that he's closer, but still only a head or so taller than me. Despite his lean figure, he's still intimidating. "My name is Gabe. I'm going to be your server today."
"Hi," I reply, looking back down at my schoolwork. I can't even think of the words I need to place an order.
"Uncle told me to make sure you order whatever you want," he says, trying to put me at ease, but it doesn't quell the butterflies inside of me. "He said you're going to be working here?"
"Yes," I reply, smiling.
"When do you start?" he asks.
"Tomorrow," I say, getting the courage to look up. He's nice.
"Cool," he replies, a genuine smile on his face. "What's your name?"
"Sang," I say.
"Pretty name for a pretty girl," he tells me with a small smile, and whilst I know I'm blushing, I have no idea on how I'm meant to reply, so I don't.
"How old are you?" he asks, sliding into the booth and sitting opposite me. I glance around, looking for Ben to make sure Gabe isn't going to get into trouble.
"18," I say quietly.
"Seriously?" he asks, his jaw dropping. I start giggling, and he grins. "Wow."
"Yes," I say, nodding. What's so surprising about my age? "I'm a senior."
"Wow," he repeats.
"How old are you?" I ask curiously. He looks a little older than me, but by his shock I'm not actually sure if that's accurate anymore.
"Seventeen," he mumbles. "I'm eighteen next month."
"Anything planned?" I ask. I'm a little worried about distracting him from work, but it's not super busy and there's another person working on the floor too. He's taking my order, and small talk is a big part of customer service rolls... right?
"I'll be doing something with my friends," he informs me. "Not sure what, but it's always a good time."
"That sounds promising," I say.
"Can I join you?" he asks me. I'm a little unsure what he means, since he's already sitting at the table, and I clearly don't have anything planned for his birthday. "For food, I mean."
"Sure," I say, although I'd much rather be alone. It's been a lot of... people today. I don't really people. "Won't you get in trouble though?"
"Nah," he replies. "I'll place our orders, then I'm done for the day."
"Am I keeping you from something?" I ask him. He shakes his head, whilst smiling. "Oh, okay then."
"What do you want to eat?" He asks me. I glance over the menu and spot pancakes.
"Chocolate chip pancakes," I reply, unable to hold in my genuine excitement. It's extremely rare for my dad to buy chocolate chips, but when he does, I live on chocolate pancakes. They are my absolute favourite meal.
"Sounds good," he says, and I watch as he walks away for a moment before I turn back to my schoolwork. I want to catch up on the things I missed today so that I don't fall behind. AP classes are fun, and interesting, but if I fall behind, I feel like I won't ever manage to catch up. I get quite a lot done whilst Gabe was gone, and he reappears about fifteen minutes later.
"Sorry I took so long," he tells me, sliding back into his seat. "The chef is a little growly sometimes, and rather than doing his job he likes to criticise."
"Don't worry about it," I reply, not wanting to comment on one of my new colleagues, especially one I don't know at all. I'd hate to offend him, and start off my new job by making enemies out of my colleagues.
I put my schoolwork away and turn back to Gabe, giving him my full attention. It's polite, and he's really charming. We chat for a little while before food arrives, but I feel so self-conscious. I don't know why Gabe is sitting with me, and I don't know how to maintain a conversation for very long. I'm not very interesting—unlike him—and yet he keeps trying to ask things about me.
A tall man approaches the table. He's wearing all black and looks extremely intimidating, scowling at us both. He's carrying a tray with what I'm assuming is our food. I don't know who this man is, or how he works here, but I quickly look away. He passes us both our food but doesn't leave from the table. What does he want?
"I added fruit for your date," he tells Gabe. "Pancakes are not a healthy option on their own."
I don't look up at all, terrified to correct him, but also scared to look at the man. He's really scary, and he seems mad. I don't want to add to his annoyance.
"She's not my date," Gabe mutters, sounding upset by this. I'm sorry he lumped us together, and I wish I could reassure him.
"Whatever," he snaps, before walking away.
"Sang," Gabe says softly. "Are you okay?"
I nod, although I think I just want to go home. This has been a lot today. Normally the only people I talk to are my teachers, and occasionally my dad. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. We continue talking throughout our meal, although I'm even less active than I was before. I don't know what Gabe thinks of me. When we finish, Gabe wants to know if I want dessert, but I explain I need to go home. I feel bad for lying, but I really can't make it through another course.
After I decline a few more times, I finally get to grab my things and he walks me out. I pause at the counter to pa, smiling at the girl standing there.
"Uncle told you that it was on the house," Gabe reminds me. Oh yeah.
Technically he said that employees eat for free. I shrug and put money in the tip jar instead. I don't want to eat for free, it doesn't seem fair when I don't know if I will be taking the job permanently.
"Where do you live?" Gabe asks. I motion vaguely in the direction of my house, not really wanting to give the man I've just met my location, especially since my dad isn't home. "I can walk you back."
"I'm fine," I reply. "It's only ten minutes." I really don't want him to walk me home.
"If you're sure," Gabe says sounding unsure. I nod and say goodbye, promising that he can do my hair before work tomorrow. He was strangely insistent, saying something vague about it being a requirement. I'm not one to argue, and it'll be one less thing for me to worry about.
Once I'm home, I take a quick bath, before putting on my pyjamas and finishing up my homework. I'm mentally drained, both because of my social circle expanding, and the starting of my college essay, but I have a good feeling.
Today has been hard, but it's going to be worth it.