~~~~DYLAN~~~~
It's Saturday morning. I'm woken up by a loud knock on my bedroom door.
I roll over, groaning, looking at my alram clock. It's 5:30 in the gaddamn morning.
The knock comes again.
"What is it?" I shout.
The door opens and my Dad pops his head in.
"Get up." He says.
"It's five thirty." I groan.
"I'm getting you a job," he says, "Now get dressed."
He tosses a shirt at me and leaves the room. I pick it up and read the company logo "Big Joe's Fisheries" printed on the front of the grey shirt.
Struggling to keep my eyes open, I pull it over my head. After getting all of my clothes on I head downstairs, unimpressed.
Dad's waiting at the door, shoes already on.
"Hurry up, we're going to be late." He says.
"I thought I was gonna get a job in the summer." I complain.
"I decided you would benefit from a little extra work. It's just on weekends, so it won't interfere with your school." He says.
I finish putting on my shoes and open the door.
"The sun isn't even up yet." I mutter, too quiet for him to hear.
We get into his truck and drive into town, rolling past the wide and expansive ocean.
The fishing port is crouded and bustling with people, boats, nets, all at the hour of six o'clock A.M.
I tag along behind my Dad, walking along the dock past rusty fishing boats and their captains, preparing for the long day ahead.
We walk into a small office, located in a wooden building just off the dock.
My Dad greets the man behind the desk and he introduces me.
"This is my son, Dylan." He says.
The man extends his hand over the desk and I shake it.
"Nice to meet you, Dylan." He mutters.
"I'd like to get him in on some weekend shifts." Dad says.
"Sure, sure. Just leave him with me and I'll get him started, if he's starting today." The man says, eyeing my shirt.
"That'd be great. Alright Dylan, best of luck." He pats me on the shoulder on the way out.
I return my gaze to the grey haired man behind the desk, experienced but still fit. His hair is combed nicely and his chin is bare, unlike the scruffy bearded fishermen that lined the docks. He's wearing the same logoed shirt I am, only it's navy blue instead of grey.
"Okay, why don't we head out to the docks then?" He asks, getting up from his chair and walking around the deck.
We go outside into the warm air.
"My name's Mike and I'm the manager of Big Joe's Fisheries." He explains as we walk further down the dock. "What you're going to be doing today is all in-port work. We'll have you sending out and docking boats, carrying crates of fish to the freezers, and cleaning the decks of the vessils that aren't in use."
He stops in front of a fishing boat. A couple people are moving around on it, tieing ropes and readying gear.
"Here's Carl," Mike says, waving. "Carl'll show you what all to do, won't you Carl?" He shouts so the guy can hear him.
"Right on." Carl responds, bounding across the deck of the boat and hopping onto the dock.
He's a young guy, maybe in his twenties, and he's pretty ripped.
"I'll leave you to it." Mike says, giving me a pat on the back before walking away.
Carl hops back onto the boat.
"Come on then." He calls.
I smile and follow after him.