How He Broke My Heart

Chapter 4

(Song- Girls Your Age by Transviolet)

It's Saturday, and I make my way into the shop with curiosity on my shoulder. Today is supposed to be the busiest day of the week. Brandon is already here, as usual, as he opens up. I walk in. He smiles. I sort of smile then walk to the back to set my bag down before coming back out. After setting up the register and scanning over the store, I take my seat and wait patiently for noon. But, unlike the weekdays, people are already walking in, so I get up from my post and work the floor. I've had four days of practice, and I hope it does me well. I wasn't as lazily as I thought I was going to be—no longer taking after the mysterious girl who sat there before me—so I'm sure I can handle it.

One person. Two people. One leaves. Three more come in. It's manageable. One person. Three people. Two leave. Four come in, it's a family, the kids are complaining. The mother scolds as they tug on shirts and as they hang on the racks. "I want this! No, this one!" The little girl cries in my back of my head as I try to focus on the cash register. "That was two shirts and one hoodie?" I ask the woman again and she nods, impatient. Another asks me to fetch some transfers for her to compare on the shirt, so I leave the register and grab the three. I hand them to her but she tells me "No, not the dolphins, I said the flower, the surfer, and the starfish."

I hold my tongue and grab the starfish, putting back the dolphins. She takes it roughly and holds up her hoodie, centering each one and judging which might look best. "This one," she mutters and drops the other two on the counter.

"Okay, all you have to do is take it to the guy over there and he'll press it for you," I mutter as I swipe up the leftover and slide them back in their slots. When I get back to the main room five more people must have come in. The mother and her two children are at the counter while the dad walks back outside.

"We need the hot pink cropped shirt in a small," she asks as her kids stick their hands in the keychain bowl. I hurry to the back and search through the boxes. There's no small so I return to tell her and the little girl throws a fit. "What do you mean you have no smalls? Look what you've done," she nearly yells at me and grabs her daughters arm. "This is ridiculous. Just get me the flower transfer and the surfboard then." She looks down to her child. "You'll have to get the normal shirt. Go grab it. If you cry, you're not getting anything."

I sigh and run back to the storage room. I grab the surfboard but my heart drops when I feel the empty slot that's supposed to be full of Hawaiian flower transfers. It's been the most popular one this week, and we don't get anymore shipped until Monday. What the heck am I supposed to do? If I go back out there that woman's going rip my head off. "Come on, Emma," I mumble to myself, "you have to get it over with."

Leaving the safety of the storage room, I place the single transfer on the table and look up at her beady eyes. "We're out of Hawaiian flowers."

"Excuse me? Are you kidding?"

"Um, no. It's been the most—"

She snaps, "I don't care. First the shirt, now this. What kind of business are you running here? You're out of everything!"

My Heart picks up pace and a panic bubbles up inside of me. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but there's nothing I can do. The Hawaiian flower has been the most popular. Maybe you'd like to pick out another one instead?"

The little girl comes back with the normal shirt in her hands and places it up on the counter. The mother looks down at her. "They don't have your flower, this girl doesn't know what the hell she's doing." The girls face scrunches up. "If it's the most popular design, maybe you should actually think and order more of them, right?"

I nod, not knowing what to say. My hands are gripping the table as if gravity is no longer a thing and if I let go I'm going to hit the ceiling. My knuckles are white and I feel as if I can break the counter. My face is hot and I don't want to cry because a lady is yelling at me about a flower, but sometimes I can't control myself. Her rant slowly starts to blend into one long shout, the words leaving her mouth no longer making sense.