Project Blacklist

One

"Could you not frown at the customers?" Tito Gerry lifts an eyebrow at me.

It's the same thing every weekend. I wake up at four in the morning to get the delivery, and wait until six to open up the diner. My family owns this old diner here at Hummus City, and growing up without my parent made me independent. I'm incharge on getting our supplier's delivery of hotdogs and burgers every day, then I have to stay here until 5pm.

I turn my head to my uncle, "I'm not frowning. This is my 'I can't take another minute of this' look." I say.

"You better put on your happy face or I'll put it on for you." Tito Gerry smudges his hand across my face.

"Fine." I shrug. "Can I at least take an early out? I still have a lot of homeworks that I need to do."

"Since when did you care about your homeworks?"

"Since every time that I get bored and need a lame excuse." I sarcastically say.

"Fine. But you better do those imaginary assignments of yours." he says, fixing his apron as he turns away.

I'm the guy who waits for deliveries every morning, then by business hours, I become the deliver guy. Our family has this old red and orange scooter that I use to deliver orders to our customers, then I use my hand-me-down bicycle given to me by Tito Gerry to go to school. There's nothing interesting about me. That's basically it. My parents left me when I was a baby, I was raised by my uncle and aunt. We're not rich, but I'm thankful because my uncle and aunt works so hard just to provide for the family. I grew up with my cousin, Carlson, their son who's like a little brother to me. He's only twelve, but he's too smart for his age, he's also mature and independent. I'm a no-one in school, no one basically knows I exist except for my three friends who I met in homeroom a couple of years ago. I'm not good with socializing, and I'm definitely not good being the center of attention. I enjoy being invisible. But there's one thing I'm good at. . .

"You can go now if you want." Tito Gerry swings his towel from his shoulders to the table.

"You sure?" I ask.

"Yeah. Glen's here and he does a better job than you anyway, so you can do whatever you want for all I care." he gives a half smile from the corner of his left mouth. "Just as long as you don't involve girls, or I'll kick your ass."

"Yeah, I know. I'm too young for girls, right?" I joke.

"Yeah, you sure are."

"But, you do know that Carlson has a girl friend, right? And he's like what? Eleven?" I say.

"He's twelve, and no. I did not know that, but he's surely going to be hearing from me when I get home." he sarcastically says as Ernesto hands him an order list from the counter. "Now get out."

I take my cap off, and immediately exit before my uncle changes his mind. It's Sunday afternoon, and I just want to get some rest. I earn a dollar per hour, and my shift has eight, but since I left four hours early, then I'd just be getting four dollars for today. If added yesterday's pay, that means I have twelve dollars all in all for my savings. I won't pay for food at school since I have food stamps, so I think I can go watch a movie this week if my budget goes as planned. I unlock my bike from the metal post right infront of the diner. It takes me about thirty seconds to unlock it because the inside of my lock is pressumably rust and cluttered with little bits of iron. I ride my back, and the second I did, I feel something wet. I get off, thinking what might be wrong, then I see ketchup all over my bike seat. Someone put ketchup on my bike, now I have it all over my butt. Whoever did this is a prick. I go back in and get some tissues from the counter and wipe all the ketchup from my bike. I ride on it again, then I see two kids about seven years old, waving and laughing at my mishap. Probably, they're behind this, and I'm going to get back at them. I recognize them. They're Mr. Russo's grandchildren. Mr. Russo's a grumpy old man who seems to be mad at anyone, so don't wonder why I won't feelbad getting back at his grandkids.