Lost

Chapter 5 Jacquelyn

"Aw man, it's hot out here!"

I was drenched in sweat, squatting in the middle of the field under a sun that felt way too close for comfort. My new "grandma" had woken me up before sunrise, clapping her hands and saying something I didn't understand—but I got the message. Get to work sounds the same in every language.

She'd fed me breakfast like a queen, then handed me an outfit that somehow fit—probably because it was meant for someone twice my size. My "low‑maintenance" vacation hairstyle, box braids, suddenly felt like a terrible idea. They were supposed to make my life easier for a month, but right now they were cooking my scalp. Grandma had given me a hat too, but it refused to fit over my hair. Still, it was the thought that counted.

Today's mission: picking chili peppers. It wasn't so bad at first—I could sit while dropping them into a basket—but all the constant squatting and standing made my knees scream.

"Hey, you."

I looked up and glanced around. "Me?" I asked, pointing at myself.

"Duh," said jerkface.

Ugh. Him again.

"What do you want?"

"Time for a break."

"I'm fine, thanks."

"I wasn't asking. You'll get heat stroke if you keep this up."

"I think I can tell when I'm getting heat stroke, thank you very much."

"Fine. Whatever."

One hour later...

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe I almost got a heat stroke," I groaned, lying flat on the cool wooden floor with an ice pack pressed to my forehead.

"Told you," he said, sounding way too smug about it.

I'd started feeling dizzy, tried to head inside, and next thing I knew, I was horizontal. Poor Grandma had been worried sick.

"Whatever," I muttered.

When I looked over at him, he was shirtless with a towel draped around his shoulders, sipping from a water bottle. Must be nice. And that's when it hit me—I didn't even know this jerk's name.

"Hey," I called.

He glanced over. "Yeah?"

"What's your name? You know mine."

"I forgot yours."

"What?! It's not hard. Jackie. Just Jackie. Write it down or something."

"Why would I do that? It's just a nickname. I can give you a better one."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Flea."

I shot upright. "Flea?!"

"Yeah. You're annoying. Too bad I can't flick you somewhere far away."

"You... you jerkface! Ugh!"

I jumped to my feet. "You have no right to treat me like this! What did I ever do to you? I've been working my butt off, being respectful, trying to help—and you still act like I'm some kind of burden. Fine! I'll leave. Tell Grandma I got a ride or something."

I stormed off to grab my things. I hadn't unpacked much anyway. Within minutes I was out the door, my bag slung over my shoulder, sweat already dripping again. I didn't care. I'd rather melt in the sun than stay another minute near that guy.