Death is My BFF Rewritten (Book 1 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 7: Quit Clowning Around

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NO. SPOILERS.

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              "You look really nice today, Faith."

            I held back my distaste. "Thanks, Mason..." I quickly wiped down the counter, feeling a stranger's gaze on me. "Is it just me, or has that clown over there been staring at me a lot?"

            "What clown?" Mason went a little bit pale. "Oh, that one? Yeah...I don't really know. Listen, we're getting bees from either a lemonade spill or a bee's nest and I'm allergic. Maybe I should go get some spray--"

            I swatted away the bees. "There's only a few. I'm handling it, Mason. Are you afraid of clowns or something? You're acting kind of weird."

            Because I am definitely not a fan of clowns.

            "I guess. Um, Faith, you're making the bees angry--"

            I tore my gaze away from the clown who was now waving at a little kid skipping past him with a balloon. "I'm handling it, Mason!"

            "You know you're not allowed to wear any jewelry when you're on shift, right? You don't want to contaminate the funnel cake. Wait...is that a Rolex? Sweet..."

            "I--I--I, um, I found it yesterday...actually, I won it in one of those gumball machines! Yeah! A gumball machine! That's where I got it"

           Yeah, when you stole it from David Star's wrist. Really believable lie...

            "Cool. Looks good on you." Then, as he had been doing the entire day, Mason ordered me around with, "Still have to take it off..."

            "How about you stop bossing me around and go bother someone else? You're not the king around here," I snapped at the slightly greasy and extremely asthmatic eighteen year old playing video games on his phone. "I've been busting my butt all day in the sun, whereas you've been sitting in the shade eating chips and looking at topless girls. Go wait for your shift somewhere else if you're going to boss me around!"

            "You need structure in your life, Faith. You need to stop drinking."

            "I don't drink. I had one sip. David Star made that all up," I muttered for the fiftieth time.

            She ignored that. "I've already signed you up to volunteer at that carnival with Mason tomorrow. You remember, Mason, right? Mason Hanes?"

            "Mason? Mom, Mason is so obsessed with me."

            "Oh, not this again. You have known Mason Hanes all of your life. He's a nice, intelligent, and Catholic, young man. His family goes to church with us, his mother comes over once a week for my book club. You're volunteering tomorrow, end of story."

            "His phone background was a picture of me. I saw it when we went to dinner with the Hanes family two years ago, and he's tried to kiss me like five times--!"

            "That was a long time ago, Faith. People change."

            Mom was right with the fact that Mason had somewhat changed. He hadn't tried to kiss me yet. Besides having a fear of basically everything carnival-like, especially Ferris wheels, clowns, and fun houses, I was also extremely uncomfortable working with Mason. Don't get me wrong, I had tried to explain to my mom in many different ways and languages, (with the help of Google Translate) as to why I didn't want to volenteer at the carnival. But she hadn't budged. I needed structure. What was worse than pretending to be nice to someone when you were genuinely concerned that they were going to try and kiss you at any moment, and that was the last thing you wanted to do with them?