THE GOLDEN LOCK

Chapter 4: Grizy

When the clock hit midday and everything was "tidy and clean and perfumed", clients started to come in.

"Mel, you're serving with Cecilia, go take orders, chop, chop,"

Zinili waved his hands at me and I had to put down the apple I had found on one of the counters inside the kitchens.

"And another thing," Zinili pointed to his head and made his finger twirl in the air.

"Oh, of course," I said, understanding that I had to pull up my hair.

I didn't have a tie so I had to use a pencil.

Zinili gave me a block of paper and a pen and pushed me inside the room that was now filled with hungry people.

I started on a table with an elderly couple.

"Hello, can I take your order?"

"Hello, sweetie! Me and my husband would like the Amore pizza," the elderly woman said, never taking her eyes from her husband.

I wrote the name on the block and smiled at them.

Old lovers meant a happy love life.

"Is that all?"

"We would also like to have the Coracion Escarlate drink," the elderly man added and never took his eyes off her.

I wrote it on the block and put the pen in my ear.

"The food will arrive soon," I said.

I thought being an employee was tough but it's easier than I thought.

I went inside the kitchens but didn't know what to do.

'Do I give this paper to someone or am I supposed to make the food myself?"

Everyone that passed me ignored me so I decided to do it myself.

I went to the stoven where I'd hidden my bag, also to make sure It was there.

It was.

I sighed, relieved.

"Mel?"

I jumped, scared and hit my head on the handle of the stoven.

"Ouch!" I cried out in pain.

I would sure have a bump on my head.

Peter was standing in front of me, laughing and I punched him on the shoulder.

"I thought I told you to stop sneaking up on me like that!"

"It's not my fault our paths always lead to each other,"

I felt my cheeks blush at that.

"Well, next time wait until I'm not under a stoven,"

"And what were you doing under the stoven?" He asked as if waiting for an hilarious explanation.

"I was... I was trying to get it to work?" It sounded more like a question than an affirmation but he seemed to believe it anyway because he started to laugh.

"Well, first it won't work there," he pointed to where I was looking.

My heart stopped and I hoped he hadn't seen the bag.

"And second, you have to use these buttons, see?"

Peter was talking to me slowly, as if he was teaching a child how to count for the first time. And I hated that.

"I didn't have a stoven back where I lived," I said, but regretted the moment I saw the worry on his face. Well, it's true. Papa and I never had a stoven to cook our food. We always made a fire and I thought it was the best thing to do in the world. Papa always let me do it.