For the past year, 18 year old Camille has been getting away with four hours of sleep, a nine hour school day and an eight hour work day overnight. That is until her three teachers and a mystery guy walk into her diner one night.
NOTE: THIS IS A 'W...
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"Dad, we have no more beer," I call out to him from the fridge.
"We had seven cans in there yesterday," he calls back to me from the living room. Yeah, and you drank them yesterday, you drunk slob.
I roll my eyes as I close the fridge and reach for the vodka. I take a sip of it myself before pouring some into a glass and mixing it with soda.
I carry it out to the living room where he is sprawled on the sofa with Noah and Oscar and hand it to him. They are all watching the football and I could not be less interested.
I walk up the stairs to my room and take a seat at my desk. I open up my notes on my laptop and begin typing out some of my homework. I have 2 hours until I need to be in work but have so much homework that needs doing.
My eyes sting as I stare at the screen, trying to read critical quotes about Nathaniel Hawthorne. I think I would have done well if I was in the Scarlet Letter. Not having to talk to anyone and having your own house on the edge of town doesn't sound so bad. Plus no one would be able to stop me from making my daughter a carbon copy of me.
Oh the fun we would have.
By the time I have finished my English work, I have to get ready. I quickly braid my long brunette hair and put on my polo shirt and black skirt. I add a pair of tights as it is always colder on a night and pair it with some black ankle boots and a knitted black jumper over my polo.
I add a bit of concealer under my eyes to hide the fact that I get 3 hours sleep. I also dab on a bit of mascara before loading my bag with some more homework and running out the door to work.
I work in a 24 hour diner, which doesn't see much trade during my shift. Only the lonely truckers basically. I get paid regardless of how many customers there are but it is sad to know I won't get many tips.
I usually stand on my side of the counter and do work until a customer swings by. As I stand doing my French work, I find myself falling asleep, so I turn round to put some filter coffee on to wake me up.
I hear voices walk through the door and turn round to see four men walk in. I stand shocked as I realise that three of the men are my teachers. My heart starts beating in my ears and a lump catches in my throat. Shit. Shit. Shit.
So much for keeping this a secret.
I wait for them to take a seat in one of the booths before going over to take their order. "Welcome to Betsy's Diner. What can I get for you," I ask, pretending I haven't noticed it's them.
They all look at me and it's Mr Hart who notices me first.
"Camille? What are you doing working here at this time?"
"Got to pay the bills," I play it off as a joke but my heart pangs as I know it is the truth.
"Is this why you were so tired in my class, Camille," Mr Laurent asks softly. My cheeks flush and I dart my eyes around, embarrassed.
