Chapter 1
I loved October—it was easily the best month of the year, in my opinion anyway. The heat never soared out of control and it did not usually snow. It was perfect, light jacket only weather. In Iowa, the weather stayed pretty mild in the spring and in the fall, but only went crazy in the winter and summer. So October was great, with the leaves turning yellow and orange and just starting to fall to the ground.
I walked into my designated employee entrance—around by the dumpsters, naturally—and I stepped on a few leaves, which crunched beneath me. It was five o’clock on the dot as I walked inside Pit-Stop. It was a small grocery slash convenience store owned by a friend of my mom’s. I was a new cashier, previously a bagging girl.
“Hello, Taylor. Cutting it kind of close, aren’t you?” Candace, my manager and owner of the place, called to me across the aisle. She had a clipboard in her hands and a headset hanging from her ear. Her dyed brown hair was swept up into a messy bun.
“You know I have never been late, Candace.” I replied as I threw my purse under the cabinet built into register two. “Why would I start now?”
“Come on—hair up, nametag on.” She commanded. She flipped on the light switch for my lane, making the number two glow. It was a signal to everyone in the store. Soon little shoppers would be making their way through my lane, ready to get out and back to their lives.
I pulled my strawberry blonde hair back into a loose ponytail with hopes it would stay put for the four hour shift. My hair was notorious for having a mind of its own. Just as I clipped on my nametag “Hello, my name is Taylor W.” a mother with two rowdy sons and a full cart of groceries came through my line. “Hello,” I smiled cheerfully.
“Hi,” the mother said breathlessly. She began tossing her items on my conveyor belt.
I began scanning mac n’ cheese and hamburger helpers. “How are you doing today?” I asked. Part of my job was to be as obnoxiously happy and engaging with the customer as possible. It was what made Pit-Stop special. That and our rock bottom prices.
“I’m fine, how are—Hunter James do not touch that!” our friendly conversation came to a halt by one of the boys taking a bag of M&Ms off the shelf. “What did I tell you about that? No candy today!” The woman was no doubt an overprotective mother. She even had a shrill, obnoxious voice to match.
I gave up on conversation after her outburst continued. I was scanning and bagging, letting the sound of boops and the swish of plastic bags speak for me. I tried to tune out her yelling at her sons. It was impossible. Her voice invaded my ears and banged on my ear drums. It penetrated my brain and into my very thoughts. I was more than impatient to get her out of the store. No wonder her boys were so rowdy—their mother was completely insane.
She loaded the last of her groceries into her cart. “Come on, boys.”
“Have a nice day,” I said, mainly to myself.
Just as the automatic doors shut once again, Connor came running up to my lane. He was late, as usual. His brown hair was disheveled and he was in desperate need of a haircut. His tie was hanging loose. “Hey,” he greeted me, all out of breath. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re always late,” I reminded him.
He tightened his tie, “Yeah, well, I’m a busy boy.”
“Right, right. I forgot, Mr. Demoted.” The truth about Connor was that he was older than me. He was seventeen, almost eighteen. Due to his lack of punctuality, he was demoted back to courtesy clerk. As soon as I turned sixteen I got to take his job as cashier. Connor acted like he didn’t care, but I knew it was eating him up inside that he spent his day bagging groceries and making fifty cents less than me an hour.
“Shut up,” he grunted. The only reason Candace hadn’t fired him was because he was her nephew. Connor was usually staying with her, because his mother frequently flew into rages directed at him. For his own safety, he moved in with his aunt. But he usually did his own thing, sleeping over at friends’ houses and such. After dropping out of high school, there was nothing else for him to do. He was doomed to this life of servitude.
***
My shift from five until nine came to a close with a girls’ restroom check. It was a job I despised. It was always a surprise what I would find. With three stalls and two sinks, and an automatic paper towel dispenser, things were bound to get messy. Once, someone had emptied an entire roll of toilet paper onto the floor in a pile. For no apparent reason. Usually I try not to swear, but when I saw the mess, I let out the longest string of curses ever heard. I was worse than a sailor.
After replacing three rolls of toilet paper and cleaning up a soapy mess on the counter tops, I was finished. It was not as bad as it could have been, and I was thankful for it. I took my hair out of my pony tail and let it fall down my shoulders and across my back.
I was backing out of the restroom with a bag of trash with I slammed into something hard. “Whoa there, girl.” A deep, obviously male voice said.
I turned to find a tall, muscular boy in a black t-shirt covered by a leather jacket, and jeans. He was tall, with foggy blue eyes and shaggy brown hair. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, sir.”
“Watch where you’re going, blondy.” He grumbled and disappeared into the men’s restroom.
“Dick,” I muttered.
I clocked out and sat in my car in silence. I had been yelled at by rude customers before, of course. I had forgotten them almost instantly. But something about this guy’s foggy blue-grey and how they smoldered at me would not leave my mind. I didn’t know why his voice kept playing over and over again in my ears. Never the less I turned my radio on and drove away towards home, trying to put the douchebag boy out of my mind.
