Need Somebody

Chapter 9

I look around and notice lots of college students, probably from UA, on their laptops with earplugs in their ears listening to music. They're a few grown men in suits wearing fancy watches, probably business men, in a heavy discussion. They notice me looking and my eyes immediately wander else where.

When I get to the counter there's a girl with short brown hair with a few blue streaks in it. She doesn't appear to be wearing a uniform, but has an apron tied around her waist. I wait until she's done steaming milk to introduce myself.

"Excuse me-," I make myself known and she turns around, "Hi, I'm here for an interview. My name is Cheyanne Shields" I politely say and smile trying to make a good first impression.

The girl behind the counter returns the smile and extend her hand out, "Hey! I'm Vanessa. I'll go get the Steve." And with that she leaves to the back room. I assume Steve is the man I spoke to on the phone. I'm not sure what to do at the moment and continue to stand in front of the counter awkwardly. Should I sit and wait? Do I continue to stand? My hands become sweaty and I need to calm myself down before I freak myself out. I know this is a basic job, but I need this job right now.

"Ms. Shields, it's nice to meet you." Steve appears from the back and reaches his hand out to shake mine. I grab his hand and smile.

"It's nice to meet you to. Are you Mr. Allen, the man I spoke to on the phone?" I follow him to a near by table and take a seat across from him.

He laughs at my stupid question, "Yes I am, but call me Steve. Mr. Allen makes me sound old." I nod in agreement with a smile. He doesn't look too old, maybe in his mid thirties. He is appearing to be more mature than he looks, but it's not a bad thing. He has dark brown hair and is around 5'8. His eyes are a dark brown color and he has a bit of face stubble around jawline.

"I brought my resume for you if you'd like to overlook it." I hand him the white paper with black ink.

"Ah, perfect thank you!" He grabs the paper from my hands. I study his face and noice his eyes moving horizontally rather quickly and I can't decide if that's a good thing or not. Is there not enough? Is there too much?

"So Cheyanne, your resume says you're attending UA, what are you studying?" Mr.Allen- I mean Steve- begins my interview.

"I'm majoring in Elementary Education with a minor in English." I proudly say. It's an odd combination but they contain a few of my favorite things; kids, helping people, reading and writing.

"That's very impressive. Where do you see yourself in five years?" Shit. I have no clue. My whole life, my old life, I had everything mapped out for me. I had a plan, but that plan disappeared and left, along with my innocence. I have an idea of where I'd like to be, but not a plan of how to get there or what I'll do if I get there.

I realize I'm taking to long to answer once he looks at me with his head slightly tilted.

"Well, I plan to be an elementary school teacher. I don't have a particular school in mind at the moment. Maybe I'll be writing a book too, if the kids allow me to do so." I joke at the thought of elementary kids pestering me to stop writing. Writing, I miss it. I haven't written for fun in a while. Nothing has come to mind lately. There's nothing worth writing for anymore. I only hope it comes back with time.

Mr. Allen- damn it, I mean Steve- laughs at my horrible joke and looks down at my resume once more. I'll never feel comfortable calling him Steve, even though he isn't much older than me.

Mr. Allen continues to ask me multiple questions about my work ethic, school, where I'm from, which I only reply with "Pennsylvania", and more interview-like questions for another twenty minutes.