"Shit" I said, staring at that annoying spiky headed boy. He smirked.
"You know I was kinda hoping for a 'thank you' or 'Hi, where you've been?' or maybe an explanation for why you never called me?
I pushed him away only to have me drop to the ground face down.
Great. First I fall into this guy's arms and then I fall to the ground on my face. Thanks a lot.
"I was busy. I'm sorry." I said, picking up the books. He bent down and helped me pick them up. I noticed his face was clenched. Wow he was that mad at me?
"I did want to call you. But there's a lot going on. I'm really sorry." I said when he didn't look me in the eye. His face softened
"Ah. It's all right. I just thought maybe you wanted nothing to do with me." Chris replied, handing me the books.
"By the way, why do work here? Or a better question, why do you work?" Chris asked. I shoved the books into the shelves and looked at him with distain. Now I found out why I hate him. The fact he was rich and will never know what it's like to be poor.
"Because unlike you, little lord Faultenroy, I live in a run down apartment and my family can't afford to change the broken door. That's why." I hissed, taking the books from him.
"What do you mean, little lord Faultenroy? Hey I'm not that like that okay? I don't flaunt my wealth like 'cos I do know what it's like to be poor." He said angrily.
"Oh really?" I asked sarcastically.
"Yeah. Alright?! Before Dream Street, and way before Broadway, I was like you. I lived in a run down apartment in Manhatten and trust me, it stinks. My dad was a plumber and I doubt that rakes a lot of money. I finally did something by helping out my father by getting myself in show business. I always thought 'I can make it. And when I'm rich, I'll give my parents a nice house for them to rest their weary bodies' but no, shortly after my career takes off, my old man dies from cancer." Chris said in a huff.
My eyes widened. Now, I felt so guilty being so mean to him.
"I'm sorry..." I stammered, wiping my forehead. "It's just, I never knew that there were people like me. All my life, I've been surrounded by rich kids. My dad.. he ran off when I was six and my mom's an alcoholic. When she was still working, she drank away half her salary, which was why we were so poor. Now that's she's lost her job... I gotta work after school. I'm really sorry."
Chris looked at me, a small smile on his face.
"Apology accepted." He whispered.
We were silent for a moment. I stared into his hazelnut brown eyes. They looked warm. Convincing. Like I could trust him....
"What's going on here? I heard a crash and probably someone falling. Twice." Mr Conners asked. I snapped back to reality and faced him, whose face told me he wanted an explanation
"I fell Mr Conners. It's no big deal." I said. Mr Conners stared at me, then stared at Chris, as though he wondered whether Chris was doing any funny business.
"All right. Just worried that's all. And Lizzie, it's 3.30. It'd be best to go now." He said, pointing to the clock. I almost drop the books again. I had to go!
"Damn it!" I hissed. Chris cocked his head to one side.
"Got somewhere to be?" He asked as I took off my working apron.
"Yeah gotta pick up my two siblings from school."
"Great. Can I come?" He asked.
"No!" I replied. He pouted
"Come on! It'll be fun. We can talk on the way. And I'm great with kids. Really!"
I stared at him. He looked really sincere. And maybe spending a little time with him wouldn't be so bad.
"Okay, but if my brother kicks your ass or anything, please know that I warned you." I said, picking up my bag.
"Wait, why would your kid brother beat me up?" Chris asked. I shook my head
If only he knew
