Chapter One - Broken Plates.
~
“Hi, my name is Frankie and I’ll be your server for this evening. Can I take your order?”
I swear, if I have to say that same stupid sentence one more time this evening I will scream. Loudly. So loud that you won’t be able to hear the crackling radio playing bad 80’s music for once. Maybe I might even crack a window or two. Hey, it would save me work in the long run. Doesn’t matter how long I spend scrubbing those things, the dirt’s ingrained.
The customer in front of me was just another trucker who seemed more interested in staring at my chest than reading the menu.
He shot me a toothy grin, well, it would have been toothy had he not been missing half his teeth. “Naw darlin’, just give me another minute.” he winked at me, and I had to repress the urge to shudder.
“No problem,” I replied, before walking away from the table as quickly as I could without looking too suspicious.
It had, quite literally, been the day from hell. The dire lack of air conditioning in the stuffy diner meant that even something as simple as walking into the kitchen made me want to burst into flames. The immense heat had only made me sweaty, impatient and entirely more irritable.
Paul’s Roadside Diner wasn’t exactly the sort of place you’d go to if you were looking for fine dining. Food here was served hot, fast, and greasy and half of our dishes probably should have come with a cholesterol warning. Located on the very edge of town, conveniently also next to the towns one major road, Paul’s had turned into something of a mecca for truckers and exhausted families alike.
North Carolina had an awful lot of tourist towns, but ours wasn’t one of them. Our one lone hotel shut down sometime in the early fifties, and ever since then guest houses have catered to the needs of those who might come in from out of town for a wedding, or more often than not, a funeral. People didn’t stop here, they just ate at Paul’s and passed right on through.
I sighed, and leaned against the counter. The fabric of my yellow work shirt was stuck to my back, and I could feel the beads of sweat along my hairline. I felt gross, to say the least.
I groaned, low and quiet so none of the other diners would hear it, and rubbed my fingers over my tired eyes. Saturdays were always the worst, especially if you were crazy enough to have volunteered to work a double shift. It wasn’t as if I had anything else to do though, and the money was good. Really good.
“I’m just about ready now darlin’.” a booming voice echoed through the diner. I breathed in deeply, before placing my customary ‘I’m happy to help you’ smile on my face, and walking back over to the trucker. He rattled off his order, and I noted it all down in the small notepad that was permanently hanging off my apron.
“I’ll get that to you as soon as I can.” I smiled, before turning away from his leering expression and marching my way back behind the counter once again. I tore the sheet from the notepad, and slapped it down on the little tiled ledge of the open window between the main part of the diner and the kitchen.
“New order Beau,” I shouted, waiting for his distant grunt of acknowledgement before I ducked out again, leaning back against the counter.
A glance at the clock told me it was quarter to eight, only fifteen minutes until I was allowed to escape the grease-pit. Either Rebecca or Teresa, both single moms in their forties, would come in to replace me, while the other watched their kids. I liked them both, they were friendly without being nosey and most importantly for the couple of weeks I had to do shifts with the both of them, they proved themselves to be hard workers too. My old shift-partner deserted us a few weeks ago. For some reason, she decided that eloping in Las Vegas with her deadbeat of a boyfriend was a good plan. I really didn’t care all that much about her life plans, but I did care that it messed up our work schedules completely. Paul finally managed to find us a replacement the week before, but that night was my first time working with him.
Speaking of the replacement, my eyes glided from table to table until I located him. He stood carefully noting down an order, stooping slightly so that he was able to hear what the customers were saying. To say that he looked comical would have been an understatement, he looked hilarious. A typical grunge boy, he looked so out of place in his place yellow uniform shirt, it was all I could do not to burst out laughing whenever I saw him. His hair was styled in that ‘I just rolled out of bed’ way that seemed to be insanely popular amongst the wannabe ‘bad boys’, but I knew for a fact that without at least some product, his hair would have been stuck to his head hours ago with sweat, much like mine was.
I was well aware that I looked like something the cat had dragged in.
He slowly turned, and I quickly adverted my gaze from him, choosing instead to stare at the gaudy pink wall in front of me. The squeak of converse against the tiled floor allowed me to track his progress across the diner, and I allowed myself to glance his way once again as he ducked in under the countertop, not stopping to lift it like the rest of us. A black lip piercing glinted in under the fluorescent lights, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
I would never understand the obsession people had with sticking needles through places in their skin that needles shouldn’t even be near.
“Can you bring the dirty dishes back to the sink?” I asked him, rubbing my eyes once again “I won’t be able to lift all of that.” I waved towards the dish crate, which was stacked high with dirty plates. Paul was a stickler for washing plates before placing them in the dishwasher, and while I understood that it minimised the risk of breakdowns it was still a pain in the ass to have to do.
He grunted noncommittally, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Six hours we had been working side by side – quite literally given the size of the diner – and he hadn’t uttered a single word to me. Not one, not even a simple ‘hi’. I didn’t even know his name, and I was pretty sure he didn’t want to know mine.
I suppressed a yawn, and watched as he grabbed the two handles of the over-full crate, and began backing towards the swing door into the kitchen. He bumped the door open with his elbow before turning around, not taking his eyes off of the stack of plates for a second.
“Mind the-” I started, but it was too late. The sound of the tip of his shoe hitting against the small step rang out almost like a gunshot, and I actually felt my jaw drop as I watched him fumble, sending all of the plates crashing to the floor.
“What have you done?” I shrieked, my hands knotting in my hair.
He looked from me to the shattered plates, his blue eyes wide. His jaw floundered slightly, before he shut it tightly and swallowed.
“You’re telling Paul that this was all your fault, all of it.” I pointed a finger at him, my voice shaking “This, this mess is not coming out of my pay check.” I warned him.
Pushing roughly past him, I dropped to my knees and began trying to pick up the millions of fragments up off of the floor. Pretty much half of the plates in the entire diner were broken into tiny pieces, and I had to swallow the urge to scream and cry simultaneously. This guy was supposed to be helping me, not making the job harder than it was already.
“Order’s ready Frankie,” Beau hollered out from the kitchen.
“One second,” I answered through gritted teeth, blinking away the moisture in my eyes impatiently. It was ridiculous, completely insane that I would even consider crying over a few broken plates, but all I could see was a weeks wages going down the drain, my fault or not.
Looking back, I saw he was still standing where I had left him, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black jeans and his mouth clamped shut.
“Are you just going to stand there?” I asked, my tone icy.
“I-I’ll go get a sweeping brush,” he stammered, his voice husky from obvious lack of use.
“That might be a good idea.” I nodded sarcastically, getting up from my knees and dusting them off. We stood blinking at each other for a few seconds. “The sweeping brush?” I reminded him dryly.
“Er…where do you keep it?” he asked, adverting his gaze form mine to stare at the floor, tapping the tip of his shoe against the tiles.
“In this magical place called the supply closet.” I pointed towards the door “Walk straight through the kitchen, it’s the door to your left just before the back exit.”
He nodded once before sidestepping around the plates and crashing through the door, managing to once-again stub his toe against the step. I rolled my eyes, one word and one word only running through my brain. Idiot.
Sighing, I turned to pick up the order from the ledge and made my way slowly back to the trucker.
“Well it’s about time, I thought I was going to have to go look for you.” he winked at me once again, and I resisted the urge to smash the plate over his head.
Enough dishes had been harmed.
“Enjoy,” I said, a tight smile on my face.
“Oh, believe me I will,” he replied, tucking a cheap paper napkin into the collar of his t-shirt.
Fake smile still in place, I walked away once again and promised myself I wouldn’t go near his table again. Even if it randomly burst into flames. There’s only so much you can take in one day, and I had reached my limit.
~
The back door swung heavily shut behind me, the metallic clunk echoing through the empty parking lot. Most people chose to park around the front, meaning the rear parking lot was mostly used by employees and for deliveries.
The taillights of Jake’s truck stood out against the otherwise pitch black night, and I half-ran across the asphalt. There was something about being out here at night that always gave me the creeps, a feeling I really couldn’t explain but that was there all the same.
I yanked open the door of his ancient truck, and clambered in. Jake greeted me with a grin, grabbing the handle of his tool box and throwing it onto the back seat so I could sit down.
“What a gentleman.” I rolled my eyes playfully.
“Amount of time Mom spent drilling manners into all of us, something was bound to stick.” he shrugged, reaching down to turn the key in the ignition. The truck rumbled to life beneath us, and Jake revved it slightly before slowly pulling out of his parking space. Years of having to drive around in the temperamental old truck meant Jake knew not to push her too hard when she had just started up. Years of ending up stranded on the side of various freeways also might have helped.
“You smell really bad you know,” he groaned, rolling down his window and flooding the truck with icy cold night air “I hate picking you up, you always stink up the place. It’s like driving around in a burger van after you get out.”
“Stop being mean.” I pouted, crossing my arms across my chest “What about you? Coating the entire house in oil every time you walk through the door”
“I live above a garage, and I’m training to be a mechanic, what do you expect Frankie?” he chuckled.
“I work in a diner. What do you expect, huh?”
“Touché kid, touché,” he said, taking his hand off the steering wheel to ruffle my hair. I squawked and backed myself up against the window, batting him away.
“You’re only five years older than me bud.” I reached over to jab him in the ribs “so you can drop the whole ‘kid sister’ thing.”
“No poking the driver,” he said superiorly “You might distract me and cause me to crash”
“Drama Queen,” I muttered, slumping back against my seat.
“Brat.”
“Douche.”
“Pest.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. He even had the cheek to smirk, the arrogant twist to his mouth clearly evident in the dim light provided by the street lamps dotted along the sidewalk. “You’re mean,” I huffed.
“And you’re all out of insults,” he shot back, earning himself another jab in the ribs.
“Just drive me home.”
“Your wish is my command, your highness.”
“Silence then, peasant,” I sighed, leaning my head back against the headrest, and rubbing my eyes once again. Jake chuckled softly to my left, but thankfully he didn’t speak again. I turned my head to the side, and watched as the countless blurry shapes flashed past the window. The streets were completely deserted, curtains shut tight in every window that we passed. October sort of sucked, when you thought about it.
Eventually, we pulled up alongside the kerb outside the house.
“You not coming in?” I asked, unbuckling my seatbelt.
“Nah, I’ve got some stuff to do. See you later Frankie, tell everyone I said hey.”
“Thanks for the ride, Jake.” I leaned over to give him a brief, one-armed hug before opening the truck door and stepping out onto the sidewalk. I waited until his taillights disappeared around the corner, before slowly making my way up the driveway. I fumbled with my keys, before finally slotting the right one into the door and shoving it open with my shoulder.
“I’m home,” I shouted to no-one in particular, smiling slightly when the various shouts of ‘hey Frankie’ echoed back to me.
I made my way down the narrow hall into the kitchen to find my Mom leaning against the counter drinking coffee, and my little sister Grace writing furiously at the kitchen table.
“Hey sweetie.” Mom smiled over the rim of her coffee cup “Jake didn’t come in?”
“Nope, he said he had ‘stuff’ to do.” I rolled my eyes, and grinned at her “He did say to tell everyone he said hey though, so there’s that.”
“Mmmh...” Mom hummed, a small line appearing in between her eyebrows. Even though Jake moved out three years before at the grand old age of twenty, Mom still worried about him like he was a little kid. She still worries about all of us.
“This is Jake we’re talking about guys, ‘stuff’ more than likely means vegging out in front of the tv watching old ‘The Big Bang Theory’ reruns,” Grace snorted from the table, stopping her frantic scribbling just long enough to glance up at us.
“What’s got you all fired up?” I said, shooting her a raised eyebrow.
“Tricky maths problem.” she shrugged, before directing her attention back to the page.
“It’s Saturday, and she’s in the sixth grade. How does she have homework?”
I look up and grin when I see my older sister Kelly coming down the hall, still in her uniform. Kelly was a trainee nurse at our local hospital. I’m pretty sure Mom cried the entire evening after Kelly told her she had been accepted.
“I don’t know, but I’m encouraging it.” Mom shrugged, hiding her grin by taking another sip from her coffee cup.
“It’s unhealthy” Kelly rolled her eyes, before wrinkling her nose “What’s that smell?”
“That would be me,” I admitted sheepishly.
“You stink.”
“Always nice to know you’ve got my back Kel.”
“I speak the truth, what can I say?” she shrugged her shoulders, before turning to the coffee pot on the counter, and pouring herself a cup.
“I think I’ll hit the shower, then fall into bed,” I said, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl as I walked past.
“Your dinners in the fridge, all you have to do is throw it in the microwave,” Mom said.
“Nah, I’m good with just this.” I gestured towards my apple “I ate at the diner. Night guys.”
A chorus of ‘night’ followed me out the door, as I dragged my heavy feet up the stairs. Walking into the bathroom, I shrugged out of my foul-smelling shirt and work jeans and turned on the shower. Throwing the dirty clothes in the hamper, I tested the water with my hand before finally submerging myself. I grabbed the first shampoo bottle I laid my hands on and lathered my hair. The strong scent of bubblegum assaulted me, telling me I had unknowingly grabbed Graces shampoo. Better than if I had used Kelly’s though, she would more than likely have come after me with a pitchfork. Coconut shampoo was one of the few luxuries Kelly allowed herself, and she guarded it with her life.
When the water began to run cold, I reluctantly shut it off and wrapped myself in one of the multicoloured towels that hung off the rack beside the shower. Not the classiest towels on earth, but hey, they fulfilled their purpose just fine.
Wiping away some of the leftover condensation on the mirror, I grabbed a face wipe and removed the last of the makeup that hadn’t come off in the shower. The hasty smear of foundation I had spread across my face was long gone, between all the sweating I managed to do at work and the water, but I still had some remnants of mascara on my lashes.
Surveying myself in the hazy mirror was useless, seeing as the small hole I had cleared for myself had since been covered over once again so I just assumed I had wiped it all off, and exited the bathroom. My room was on the opposite end of the hall to the bathroom, and I was pretty sure in any of the other houses on our street my room was used as a linen closet, or somewhere to store odd-objects. I didn’t care though, it was mine. All mine.
When Jake finally moved out, we all drew straws as to who would inherit his little room. For once it seemed like luck was actually on my side. But then again, seeing as Kelly spent the majority of her time over at her boyfriends, Grace seemingly walked away from it with the best deal of all.
The door hit off the end of my single bed when I shoved it open. I sidestepped into the room, and clicked on my bedside lamp, which immediately let out a faint yellow glow. All I had in there was a bedside table, a lamp, a bed and about a million photographs stuck to the wall, nothing else could be jammed into the tiny room. Most of my clothes were stored in the drawers underneath my bed, and the overflow lived in the old gym bag I had thrown beside the table.
I grabbed a pair of pyjamas out of the drawers, and pulled them on. An old t-shirt, and a baggy pair of sweats I was pretty sure had belonged to Jake at some point or another.
Classy.
I grabbed the apple from where I had left it on my bedside table, and taking a bite, I picked up my phone and began scrolling through my updates. It was a Saturday night, so naturally I was immediately bombarded by about a million selfies of people off to a house party our schools linebacker, Brody Mitchells was throwing. It seemed like most of the school was going. I knew I would have to listen to Leah and Everett moaning about how I missed yet another amazing party on Monday, but there was just no way I was about to miss a shift at work. Besides, it wasn’t like I hadn’t been to a house party before, I knew what they were all about. I told myself adamantly that I didn’t mind missing out on it all in the slightest.
I hadn’t been to a party in so long. It felt like I hadn’t had fun, proper fun in forever.
Sighing, I walked to the bathroom and threw my half-eaten apple into the trashcan before returning to my room and burrowing in under my comforter. Clicking off the lamp, I stared at the chased the headlights of cars as the light flashed across my ceiling, before I eventually fell asleep.
~
OKAY. This took way longer for me to write than I thought it would, mostly because I’m so out of practise with writing it’s scary O_o
Anyway, votes and comments are much appreciated. I know the first chapter wasn’t all that great, but trust me it will get better. Or at least that’s the plan anyway….
ILY
hugthetrees.