To Be Me

Interview with Gold ✔

Chica is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to get sick. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she'd arranged to do, with some pizzeria owner, for the student newspaper. I have volunteered to take her place. As her best friend and knowing all about the owner, his time is extremely valuable. However, he has granted me to do the interview. Chica is curled up in her bed in the dorm.

"Bonnie, I'm sorry. It took me centuries to get this interview! It will take forever to reschedule, and we'll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can't blow this off. Please," Chica begs me with her doll eyes.

How does she do it? Even ill she looks gorgeous, golden blonde hair in place, and her eyes are so bright.

"Of course I'll go, Chica. You should get back to bed. Would you like some Tylenol or Nyquil?"

"Nyquil, please. Here are the questions I thought of and my recorder. Just press record here. Don't worry about the rest, ok?"

"I know nothing about him," I murmur, failing to hide my sudden panic attack.

"The questions will help. Now go on, leave. It's a super long drive. I don't want you to be late, like I said, centuries!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going. Get back to bed. I made you something to heat up later." I stared at her blankly.

"I will and good luck. Also, thank you for doing this. I know you have panic attacks rarely, but you will do great, you're my lifesaver."

Gathering my satchel, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I cannot believe I'm doing this, but then again Chica can be the persuasive type.

She'll make an awesome writer. She's smart, strong, persuasive, argumentative, and beautiful. Wait, why am I thinking like that?

The roads are clear as I set off for my quest, mission, whatever you want to call it.

My destination is Freddy's Fazbears Pizzeria. It's a paradise for kids of all ages, a teenager's fantasy, with welcome written discreetly in silver over the glass front doors. I arrive, greatly relieved that I'm not late as I walk through the doors. A man wearing the sharpest brown vest and white shirt I have ever seen.

"I'm here to see Mr. Gold. I'm Bonnie, The replacement for Chica."

"Excuse me one moment, Bonnie." He arches his eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously before him, watching him walk away. I’m beginning to wish I'd brought my medicine as a backup. I have made an effort without it though, and I tried making it on my own. For me, this is a difficult task.

"My brother is expected you in his office. Just go down this hallway and take a left. It's the first door on the right." He smiles kindly at me, and my panic level dies down.

I can't help but smirk. Surely it's obvious that I got this handled. I sighed, thanking him as I walk towards the office, passing Pirate's cove. The door with Golden etched into the wood comes into sight around the corner. The door opens, and a tall red haired male walks into me.

"Hey watch it, use your eyes." He points a sharp hook towards me threateningly, and just walks away. Behind the wooden desk sat the owner, Golden Freddy. He laid his eyes upon mine and ushered me in. My panic level steadily rose as my palms began sweating like crazy. He pointed to a chair, and I sat down quickly.

"So, Bonnie. Tell me what brings you here?" He doesn't know? It only led my panic level higher.

"Um . . . I came to do an interview with you for Chica. Our school's paper editor." He looked at me, and leaned back into the chair. We talk more about the establishment and about the day-by-day work they have to do. When we are almost finished, I click off the recorder.

"Thank you, it was a pleasure meeting you!" I offered my hand and he gladly took it.

"Your welcome! Say . . . Do you happen to have a job?" I never really thought about working because my mom's family is rich.

"No, not really." He smiled at me and looked me dead in the eye.

"Work here at the pizzeria." My eyes widened with shock. “I like your attitude, smile, and being kind enough to replace Chica. So, what do say, want to work with the Fazbear Family?"

"Y-yeah I would love to!" He handed me a couple of papers to fill out and a purple gel pen.

"Fill this out and leave it on my desk. I have to talk to the hot head from earlier." He smiles at me and walks out. I look at the form and fill it out one thing at a time.

Name: Bonnie

Date: June 10th, 2015

Born: May 5th, 1995

Health/mental illness: Panic Attacks/Anxiety

Medication: Prozac Oral

Occupation: College

Do you play an instrument: Guitar

Why work here: It was offered to me and I can't wait to get started!

Phone:
804-123-4567

I looked over the papers and gently laid them down on the desk along with the pen. I walk out of the pizzeria and jump into the car. When I arrive home, I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over Chica's bags. My clumsiness causes me to fall head first into the dorm.

"Bonnie, you're back." Chica sits on the couch, surrounded by blankets. She's clearly been getting comfortable. She's still in her grey silk pajamas decorated with cute little chicks, she wears this for lazing about the place. She jumps up to me and helps me to my feet.

"I was beginning to worry about you, ya know?"

"You look better. Did you eat something warm?" I ask.

"Yes, and it was delicious! I'm feeling so much better." She smiles at me with a genuine smile of hers. I check my phone to see the time. I'm late for my appointment. The doctor wants to see if the medication I'm on is working or not. If not, then he'll prescribe me something stronger.

After some time at the doctor’s office, I quickly came back home. I wasn't in the mood to stay longer than I needed there. When I arrive home again, Chika is listening to Twenty-one Pilots and working on her bedazzled laptop.

Her nose is still pink, but she is deep into a story, so she's concentrating and typing faster than the speed of light. I'm drained of all signs of energy. It's all thanks to my disorder, the interview, and almost missing my appointment.

I slump on to the couch, thinking about sleeping in tomorrow. My stomach growls and I start gathering the things to make a sandwich. Chica looks up from her work, "Can you make me one!?" Of course she wants one.

I glance at the clock on display on the wall. It was currently midnight. This was a good time for me to go to bed, so I curl up in bed, wrapping the warm covers close. That night I dream of dark places, a stage, and . . . Only me.