Band-Aid

Surprise

"Good afternoon! Welcome to-"

"Shut up."

Celeste despised her job.

Working at Jule's and Diamond's as a greeter sounded at first like an easy, simple way to earn some cash, which is really what she thought of when she went to apply there two months ago. All she had to do was stand, smile, and greet customers.

Although it was rare, when they were short handed, Celeste manned the cash register and replaced on-leave employees. She was also the go-to person for simple errands like retrieving Madame Tour's dog from the puppy hair salon or delivering the manager's report to the superintendent. It was all worth it when she got her weekly paycheck.

Best of all, no one bothered to ask her questions. It was an easy escape from her mom and her constant put downs and... well, everything that went wrong in her life.

But, curse her naïveté, she had forgotten one crucial variable in her calculations for a passing job: the type of people who were regular customers at the expensive establishment.

The kind of people she had to greet in her six-hour shift.

Really, except for the occasional misdirected stray, only the rich came Uptown. But only one person could truly claim the queenly title of the rich and powerful.

Meet the Precious Hallington, the very definition of snobby and everything full priced. She came every Saturday to look at new sales, hum and tisk at the prices, pretend to consider one, then leave empty handed. As the spoiled daughter of the manager, the employees couldn't complain and were demanded to attend to her every need.

So Celeste didn't even have to look to know that the sneering voice above her came from one Precious Hallington.

That was another thing about the snobby girl - she was out for Celeste. Why? It was one of those unsolvable conundrums that Celeste didn't bother to waste time thinking about. She only did her job.

"Oh. Good afternoon, Prez."

No matter how much she tried, Celeste could never (would never, ever) say Precious's name.

It wasn't that it was a bad name. In fact, one of Celeste's old friends had been named Precious and she had no problem iterating that. But it might've been the fact that the name itself was a compliment, that Precious was "precious", and Celeste didn't feel the need to build the girl's ego. Or maybe it was because it was deceiving?

Whatever the reason, not even a fridge full of Nutella could make Celeste address Precious by her name.

So she settled for Prez. Fitting, for someone who acted like she was president of society.

"Would you like to see the Crystal arrangements today, Prez?"

For some reason, that just made the beautiful girl mad. Carefully plucked eyebrows slammed down so that her eyes became tiny slits.

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to, seal? Address me by my name." Her modelesque gal pals behind her snickered.

Well. Look who's talking. Even the kids knew Celeste's name by now, used to seeing her at the entrance of the store every Saturday and Sunday. The name tag was also a dead giveaway. But Precious would never admit that she had trouble blurting out Celeste's name. Of course, she had her own illogical reasons.

Per ritual, Celeste shrugged and gave her the same answer she responded with every Saturday. "I can't."

Precious sniffed, then turned to her friends. "Come on, girls, we don't have time to hang out with arctic animals."