Just Breathe, ok?

Chapter 3

You know when you re-read your writing and then realise you've put way to much action and plot twists together to sound believable? Yeah, well this is my chapter. I apologise, I need to thicken it out but this is it for now.

"So I spoke to Ruby on Saturday" Shit. "You want to tell me what happened?" Mr Hector swung his chair side to side slightly, peering at me over his glasses. Fumbling with my watch strap I said nothing. "She said you seemed to like Daisy and Elaine" Damn Ruby. "Uh, yeah they're cool" I mutter, not meeting his steely gaze, a tic was beating in my neck. "Did the session help at all?" I snorted and gave him a look "I beat someone up" Mr Hector placed his hands on the cheap desk "Yes, but what about the rest of the session?" shrugging I thought back to the last two weekends "I..I..I don't know" I admit, tired of trying to overthink it. "But, you don't hate it?" He presses, speaking slowly and calming "I don't know!" I exclaim, feeling attacked. "Ok, let's talk about something different then?" I nod. "A few weeks ago you said you were thinking about getting a job?" I thought back to when I told Hector about wanting to bring in some cash, but no one was hiring locally. "Yeah" I reply, shifting in the plastic chair. "Well I have a friend who has a little agency which people can hire you for different events, like waitressing or putting things together and little odd jobs" I try to imagine myself serving drinks and sandwiches. "It's not regular but I think it would be a good idea to get some experience and you said yourself you wanted some money" He holds out his hands as I think it over. "Yeah sure i'd be interested" He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling "Excellent! Here is his phone number" He handed me a green sticky note with some scribbled numbers and letters on "Call him whenever, his name is Mr Waystal" I nod and put the note in my inside pocket. "Right, I'll see you on Monday" He grunts happily and waddles out of his chair, opening the door for me. I give him a forced but grateful smile, and leave his office.

Skipping lunch, I walk to the back of the school. Red brick smeared with ancient graffiti and dotted with gum made the back look dodgy and gross, but it was quiet. It was on the far wall of the library, a patch of grass and dirt with the building curving to make an L shape against a rotting fence. Sometimes there was the odd couple making out, but they usually moved when they saw me. The gutter hung dangerously low above the longer wall, a collection of moss and leaves weighing the thing down. Leaning against the adjacent one, I pull out my phone and the note. I should call him before I change my mind. I tell myself, punching in the number. "Hello, Sydney Waystal speaking" Taking a deep breath, I reply to the gruff voice "This is Jack Ellis, i'm inquiring about a job position at your agency" I try to keep my tone light and calm, my hand tightly gripping the phone "Ellis? Ah yes, Hector told me you might ring" I wipe a hand across my forehead, trying not to jerk my neck away from the phone. "When would you be able to come for an interview?" I blink "Do you not want a CV first?" He chuckles "We're short on staff at the moment, and do I need to know whether you starred in a school play when you were six, in order to know if you can wait tables or walk a dog?" I let out a huff of air through my nose "No, no I suppose you don't. Where are you based?" He tells me the address and I realise it's close to the Baptist Church. "I can make it on Saturday, around 1:30?" I left plenty of time in case another 'incident' happened again. "Great, just come through the door and tell the receptionist you have an appointment with me, they'll send you up" I run my fingers through my hair and nod "Great, i'll see you then" I finish and hang up. Oh god I have to find something smart to wear...

Slamming the door shut, I kick of my shoes and stumble up the stairs. I only have the rest of today to find a proper outfit for the interview. I had a small built in closet in my room, made with a creaky white wooden door. Flinging it open, I scan the rows of cotton black shirts and various pairs of fraying  joggers and jeans. I needed to look smart, not ridiculously, but enough so that he wouldn't think I was a slob. A button up with trousers would do fine, except I owned neither of those, I didn't have any spare money to go out and get some. Lowering myself onto my bed, I try and come up with a plan. Wait, I know who does have those clothes...