Waitress On Fleek

Chapter 2

"What the heck?!" A furious blonde with a brown-died streak flowing down to her hip whips back to me. She turns so hard that she almost hits someone right in the face. Each strand of her hair slowly falls back into place as if nothing even touched it. Her pale face scrunches up, making her eyebrows angle up. Her purple eyes (most likely contact lenses) were glowing in anger as if I just did some sin.

    I do not even have to guess what I did. Because I know I tripped her and am at fault.

    Curse me.

    "I am super duper uber sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking and... " I trail off.

    "Pig! Why the hell are you even alive?!" She says annoyingly, spitting on my face as well.

    What, does she even know that she just spit at my face? So just because I tripped her and she fell (note: did not even get hurt) I deserve this treatment? Is she mad or something because I can seriously take my anger out at her right this moment. But since I am trying to become a nice person, I won't.

    "For your information I am not a pig and I think you can clearly see that. Now I won't get angry at you since you seem like the forgivable type and I hope you can forgive me for tripping you," I tell her.

    Silence follows after her. She doesn't say a word for a really long time, me and her having a private little staring contest. And as always, I win.

    "Get your ugly face out of my business. I'm not the stupid forgivable type you think I am," she growls at me.

    Of course. They're never the forgivable type.

    "I'll gladly get out of your stupid business," I growl back at her and make my way towards the lunchroom.

She ruined my first day of school.

~~~

    I balance the five plates filled with food on my arms and hands, but it doesn't really go as planned. Not only do I have to wear four inch high heels as being the waitress, but there's a cute little outfit for me as well. Megan showed me how it looked. It's a simple black dress which reaches a little below my knees with a silver ribbon that hugs my waist. Surprisingly, it fits me well and is comfortable to walk around in.

    "Stop, you're doing it wrong again," Lance says, taking the plates off my arms and hands.

He'd been standing off to the side, observing how I did with the plates.

    "Can you maybe explain how to do it, then?" I ask him. The least he could do is help me. It seems like everyone hates me already and it's only been two weeks since I came here.

    "I'll show you how, then," he says, smirking. He takes a plate of chicken and places it on the plate. His hand brushes against mine lightly which creates a shiver down my spine. Knowing the effect he suddenly has on me, he smirks even more-- if that's even possible. I try to ignore the fact that he's touching my hands and arms while placing the plates, but I can't. My heart starts beating faster, but he finally takes his hands away.

    He walks over behind me and places both his arms out to steady me by my elbows. He leads us over to the fridges and back, almost as if we're dancing.

He finally lets me go to walk on my own, and--

Oh my gosh!

    "I'm doing it! I'm doing it!" I sing happily but almost scream when they're about to fall out of my arms.

    Lance chuckles at my kiddy excitement and shakes his head. "You still need practice," he says.

    "Admit it. I'm doing good, aren't I?"

    "You're doing well. Now get out there and start serving dishes," he tells me, flicking my forehead. Ouch! I rub the the spot he flicked me at.

    I walk out of the kitchen and almost die on the spot. I notice the long blonde hair with brown streaks. That girl.

    "What are you doing here?" I ask in horror.

    As usual her hair swings as she turns around in her seat and shoots me a glare. "I'm here to eat, duh," she says.

I walk in front of her, take out my small notepad and ask her for the order. She calls me a pig, when she is the one that's a pig from ordering so much to eat!

    I walk back inside the kitchen with her order on a slip of paper and tie it onto a cord which connects to one of the chefs. I pull the rope and the paper goes into the direction of a man, farther and farther away from me. I wipe my sweaty hands on the white apron which is actually on top of my dress.

    "Is there a problem, dear?" Megan asks me as I pass by her. I stop and give her a bright smile.

    "There's no problem at all, Megan! I think I'm doing quite well with my job," I brag.

    Megan laughs as she puts away money in the cash box. "I think you are, indeed," she agrees. So, after some days of working here, Megan decided that she was way too mean to me at our first encounter. So this is supposed to make up for her rudeness, I guess. At least someone is cooperating!

    "Christopher Columbus!" a certain someone calls me from the kitchen. I don't budge.

    "Christopher?"

    "Chris?"

    "God damn it, Crystal! Just come over here," Lance snaps, poking his head out from the curtains that covers the the door to the kitchen. I smile at him, but he just glares right back at me. As if I am the one in the wrong doing.

    Jerk.

    I skip inside the kitchen and almost fall down because of the overload of plates and dishes that need to be given out. Lance hands me two plates and whispers in my ear, "Table four."

    I walk out and over to table four, which is indeed the table that the girl is on. Yes, the girl who I "tripped."

    "Finally! I've been waiting ages," the girl says, with a dramatic sigh. I roll my eyes and carefully place the plates on her table. She so doesn't deserve this kind of service.

    "Shut up and eat," I snap at her. Her mouth drops open and I'm literally about to stuff a whole bunch of meat inside, but she closes it too early.

    "Do you really want me to tell your manager what kind of waitress you are?"

    I'm so screwed now.

    All I want to do is pop her head open, throw her outside in the grave, and get a parrot to sing her farewell. But she's so evil that she might sicken the parrot. So I would have a crow waiting for her to peck her whole body. But it's too sad that I don't have such powers to do so.

    "Sorry," I tell her and sigh, only because I want to work here. I love this place.

    "You better be, you stinky rat," she says, holding her slender nose and mouth as if she's about to vomit.

She'll be a perfect witch for Halloween one day.

    I give her some napkins, a fork and a knife and sashay away. Staying cool in the process but not before peeping a look at the receipt to find out her stupid name.

    Kacey Bloweed? You're about to have the time of your life.