Found

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: IRIS

It isn't possible. It is not possible! They can't be here.

After the encounter at the alleyway, I ran straight across town, not stopping until I made it the ten blocks to my apartment. Once I was safely inside, I locked the door and collapsed on my mattress that was sitting in the middle of the floor.

Inhaler... I need... Where did I... put it..? NO!

I shake myself and put my head between my knees. I force my body to relax and will the air to return to my lungs. Inhale... exhale... repeat. Finally, after several excrutiating minutes, the pain in my chest slowly starts to fade, and I allow myself to fall back on my pillows.

Good. As long as I don't get carried away, I won't have to worry about doctors visits. As long as I'm careful, no one will find out the truth.

I close my eyes...

... and wake up two hours later!

"I'm late for work!"

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Jason really let me have it today. After my less than graceful awakening, I jumped into the shower, dressed in my uniform, grabbed my bag, and was out the door in ten minutes flat. A new personal best! I even managed to somehow remember to lock the door on my way out. After running to the bus stop, I made it just in time to get on the downtown bus (I had to use my will power trick to calm my asthma again), and I somehow managed to get to the diner before the dinner rush started. But I still wasn't quick enough to please my boss, who ended up spending an additional fifteen minutes yelling at me in the kitchen about how he knows plenty of other older waiters who would love to be in my position, and how I better start shaping up because some of the customers were complaining about how young I look, and was I really eighteen?

Okay, I had to lie when he asked me that, but let me explain. I'm not eighteen; I'm sixteen, and I really need this job. But I didn't lie when Jason interviewed me last year. I told him I was a college student, and even got the Dean of Admissions to type up my acceptance letter and sign it for me. I've attended night classes at the local community college for the past two years. Yes, I started college at fourteen. It's because I didn't want to go through that nightmare that was high school, so I got my GED the summer before my freshman year. I thought I might help my mom around the house because she got sick a lot, but she was always telling me how much she wished she hadn't dropped out of college when she was eighteen, so I took the SATs and aced it with a near perfect score. I applied for college, even went to visit the Dean over the summer, and received my acceptance letter the day before school started. The way I see it, who cares if I'm underage? Where else will you find a teenager this committed to work? My daily schedule basically consists of my night classes, morning violin lessons, and whatever hours I can fill in working my three jobs here, washing dishes at the hotel down the street, and working at my best friend Lila's mom's catering service. Basically, I'm a teenage starving artist.   

I sigh and grab my notepad and pen from the counter. Jason finally had enough of yelling at me and has now moved on to criticizing Chef in the kitchen. I sigh again. Some days I think that man can't get by without taking his temper out on someone.

I walk over to the elderly couple sitting at Table 5. They're regulars who ask for me by name and always order the same meal. Their names are Berry and Terry (I'm not kidding, and they're just as adorable together as their names are) and they remind me of my grandparents -- or at least they would if I had any memories of my grandparents, but they died before I was old enough to walk. I think I remind them of their own grandchildren because they're always telling me stories about themselves and asking me about school and girlfriends and other sweet things like that.

After I hand in Berry and Terry's order to Chef, I head over to Table 6 where a blonde man wearing a hoodie and designer sunglasses was sitting staring out the window. I don't recognize him, and he doesn't look like the typical diner customer, so I figure him to be a tourist. Not that it matters. Unless they're a sweet elderly couple, most customers pay no attention to the person serving their food, at least not enough to remember your name by the time the check comes. I take my place in front of the table and put on my how-do-you-do-? face. "Hi, my name is Iris, and I'll be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Iris, huh?" He smiles and eyes me over his sunglasses, and I have to admit if it wasn't for the creepy way he said my name those clear blue eyes might have been able to pull a smile out of me. But right now, this guy was staring at me like he knew something big was about to happen to me and he was enjoying the suspense emencely. I shivered.

"Yes, that's me. Do you know what you want to order?"

"Wow, you really are cute."

"Umm, sir?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not interested for myself. It's just that those two gorgeous guys behind you put me through a lot today trying to find you, and I'm just relieved that you're as good looking as they made you out to be."

'Two?'

'Gorgeous guys?'

No. It can't be. Not again.

I whip my head around, and my heart stops. Standing by the door watching me are the two boys from this afternoon. The boys that I've been dreaming about for months now, and they're walking over here.