The Player
Chapter 4
"Thank you for shopping at Oxfam, I hope you come back soon," I repeat monotonously, for the fiftieth time that day.
The customer-an cranky old lady- shuffled out.
"Wow, you sure know how to do a job," Charlotte claims swinging onto the counter and leaning towards me.
I frown as I make my way to the store cupboard and pull out various items to stack onto the shelves.
"What's up avec toi?" Charlotte asks.
I shake my head, placing a ragged teddy, with an old ear missing, onto the nearest shelve.
'I' was the least of my worries.
Charlotte had recently gotten kicked out of her work experience placement at the Sainsbury's supermarket, for running a trolley, purposefully, into a pyramid of cereal boxes. No joke. The manager had contacted Mr Peterson at school and Mr Peterson had explained to Charlotte that he was not allowing her any extra chances. Charlotte was glad. However this meant she would arrive at my placement at nine in the morning, constantly pestering me about 'having some fun', which in Charlottes case probably meant break a couple of second hand ornaments and steal a wad of cash from the till.
"Dan" Ms Illsbury called, walking out of her office and into the shop, "it's four o'clock. You can leave now" she suggested.
I pulled off the baggy, green apron and placed it on the hook behind the counter.
I then exited the Charity shop, Charlotte lagging behind like a lost puppy.
"Charl," I groaned.
"Yes?" she pouted, looking up at me at my five foot nine figure.
She was only five foot five, with hazel eyes and blonde hair.
"You're really starting to piss me off!" I growled.
Hurt flashed through her eyes.
"FINE! Be that way!" and with that she stalked away.
I made my way through the crowds of people on the High Street and into a gloomy alleyway. The sun peaked through from the top of the building.
"Hey! Dan!" A voice greeted.
"Hey Liam" I nodded in reply.
He shoved a hand into his pocket and searched inside. A few seconds later he pulled out a clear packet with a greenish substance inside.
Marijuana.
"You got any?" he asked.
I pulled out a sheet of paper from my jean pocket. A tea stain ran through it.
He smiled.
"Perfect!"
"Mum! I'm home!"
No reply. The house was silent.
"Dad?!"
"Round back" a faint voice said.
I walked past the closed door on my right and into the garage.
Two, lanky legs, were peeking through under the car.
"Dad?"
"Yeah son?"
"Where's Mum?"
Suddenly Dad was out from under the bed.
"Ah, your brother was having a rough day in college so she went to grab him"
"Oh"
That evening as we sat down for dinner, an awkward silent mounted the table.
I ate my food in silence. The best thing to do was finish my food and leave.
"So?" Mum started, "Dan..?"
I raised a brow.
"Well... we've decided to visit Paris in the end:-"
"I haven't decided anything" I interrupted.
"I know. Which is why your mother and I have already decided for you" Dad said.
"What!" I cried "You can't decide for me!"
"We just did" Mum said
I pushed back my chair and dumped my plate into the sink. I wasn't hungry anymore and Mum could clean out the soggy mashed potatoes in the sink.
I slammed my feet against the stairs as I made my way up them.
Stupid assholes
YOU ARE READING
The Player
Short Story"You're going Uni in September," I started, "not dying on me." His face immediately fell and a hurtful look flashed across his now angry eyes. Never thought I would live to see the day when Ash Miller would get all serious on me. "Never kid about...
