Chapter One
"Teagan!" She called after me through the screen door. "Teagan, where are you going?" I refused to answer, just kept on walking. "Don't you walk away from me, missy!"
"Don't talk to me!" I screeched, whipping around to face her.
"Teagan," my father said pleadingly, suddenly appearing behind her, placing his hand on her shoulder, protectively. "Be reasonable. Please?" I glared at him, disgusted by his request.
"No! I will not be reasonable. Not as long as it's here," I yelled, jerking my head in her general direction. She sniffled, a tear forming in the corner of her eye.
"Teagan, get in the house. If you're going to be rude, you're going to have to face the consequences." He crossed his arms across his chest trying to look authoritative. I just shook my head and quickly unchained my bike from the fence. I yanked it off and hopped on, leaving my crying stepmom and yelling father behind.
My mom bought this bike three years ago, when I was twelve, right before she left. So by now the paint was chipping and the seat had lost every ounce of cushioning. But I still loved it to death. It was the one thing I could use to escape and get away from everything. Right now the only thing I wanted to escape from was home.
"Welcome to Cleo's Pizzeria, how may I help you?" A boy not much older than I, greeted me dully as I walked up to the counter. He was bald as a cue ball, no eyelashes or eyebrows. I didn't get a look at his arms but he appeared completely hairless. He was tall, at least six feet and very thin.
"Uh... yeah. Are you hiring?" I tried to nonchalantly study his eyelashes, seeing if there were any or if they were just really blond. There were none.
"Hold on," he sighed, walking slowly and dragging his feet. He walked into a little room off to the side. I caught a quick glimpse at a round man sitting at a desk, assuming he was the manager. He heaved himself up out of his easy chair and waddled over.
"So, Abram here tells me you're looking for a job," he said. His voice was deep and jolly. He'd make a great Santa Claus.
"Yes," I replied, trying to sound professional. I straightened my spine, throwing my shoulders back and lifting my chin.
"Come on into my office," he gestured for me to follow him.
His office was dark, the shades were shut, and the only light was from his computer, which was ancient; must have been older than me.
"What's your name sweetheart?" He plopped back down in his chair, so sat in there was a permanent indent.
"Teagan... Sawyer." I nervously tucked my flaming red hair behind my ear, with little luck. The frizzy curls popped out an instant later.
"Alright, Teagan. I'm Mr. Antoine. Have you ever worked before?"
"No. Unless babysitting counts."
"I guess that counts. Here repeat after me. 'Welcome to Cleo's Pizzeria, how may I help you?" He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk.
"Welcome to Cleo's Pizzeria, how may I help you?"
"Perfect! You're hired!"
"Really? That's all I had to do?"
"Look kid, I need as much help as I can get. You'll be working at the counter, and bringing pizzas to tables." We worked out more details; I filled out an application in his office, and gave him my number and other needed information. When we were done he said:
