So I know it's not my best, and to people who have read my work before, prepare to be disappointed. But it's just something light and humourous that I've had rotting away on my iPod notes for ages. I just tweaked it a little bit and tada! Here we have a bit of Bad Karma for you.

Enjoy :)

The air was hot and greasy in the fast food restaurant, and my forehead was beaded with sweat in no time. My ugly uniform stuck to me as I stooped to pluck up an old stained burger wrapper with bits of brown lettuce still stuck to it.

I stood up and wiped my face.

Oh, okay. I'll back up a bit.

My name is Nancy Bobofit. I am 21 years old and work in a local Maccas as a cleaner.

I am currently single, and recently just broke up with my boyfriend Max because he was pissed that I kept leaving tissues in my pockets whenever I put my pants through the washing machine, and he kept getting in trouble at work for looking 'unprofessional' with tissue fluff on his trousers.

Stupid, I know.

I don't think I'm particularly ugly— sure, my hair is red and untameable, my skin is pale and freckly, and it's impossible for me to get a tan. I'm not skinny as a stick, but I'm not necessarily overweight either.

So, why have I not attracted more than one boyfriend in all of my 21 years?

Max accused me many a time of having a horrible mouth in me. And, yeah, I used to be a huge bully at my old school— Yancy Academy (which was, like, in year six, may I mention)—but I've changed. For the better, in my opinion.

I paused in my work and straightened my aching back, staring wistfully at the playground, at the children shrieking in delight as they traipsed across the coloured rubber.

How I wished I was still so carefree. But I had bills to pay, and my parents— they couldn't even lend me a couple hundred bucks to buy food for the week. Because they were dead, and everything had been left to my selfish older sister Nelli who was unsympathetic towards my cause.

I was on my own.

I stopped my cart full of cleaning utensils next to a table and took out my damp cloth, wiping the surface down until it was shiny.

Just then, a couple walked over, laughing and holding hands. The guy was carrying a tray laden with burgers, chips and nuggets while the girl was carrying about five large cokes.

"Excuse me," she questioned, looking up at me with pretty grey eyes. "Can we sit here?"

"Go ahead," I gestured with my hand for them to sit down.

That's when I really looked at the guy. He wasn't bad looking, with his unkempt black hair and green eyes that glinted with mischief and a bit of trouble.

But looked past his appearance. My mind flashed back to say— oh, about nine years ago when I was twelve, attending Yancy Academy.

There was a boy I remember who always got on my nerves. Peter Johnson. No, that didn't sound right. Wasn't it… Percy Jackson? Yeah, that's right.

The couple sat down. The guy chucked a chip at the girl.

"Percy!" she laughed, grabbing a handful of chips and throwing them one by one at her boyfriend. He caught all but one in his mouth. The chip fell to the floor, and neither did a thing to pick it up.

I was tempted to tell them off, since I was the one who was going to be cleaning the floor later, but they looked so happy that I just couldn't be bothered.

It suddenly dawned on me that I was still standing there staring at the couple.

I quickly moved on, but it was still bothering me.

Percy, the girl had called him.

Could it be…?

I doubled back to wipe the table next to them, while secretly sneaking glances at Percy. No way could he be the same guy.

The boy I was remembering and trying to connect with this godly spectacle was scrawny, short, and extremely geeky with wild hair and huge attitude problems.

But then I thought of something. He'd been in the news countless time throughout the years. And they always featured a picture.

Whenever I'd read the article, and I found it ironic that it was always something about him blowing something up, I'd always snicker and think sucked in, loser.

I never really paid attention to his picture, but the name 'Percy Jackson' ad stuck in my mind.

Percy was now pinning the girl to the red leather booth seat, tickling her. She was giggling uncontrollably, and a couple of customers were throwing dirty looks their way. I guess with the table obstructing the view of what was really going on, it might look like Percy was doing something completely improper in the public's eyes.

I had to put a stop to this before the customers left. I strode over and snapped, "Excuse me, guys, but could please save it for the bedroom?"

Percy and the blond sat up, and her hair was a bit dishevelled. Percy and I stared at each other. Something flashed behind his eyes.

"Um… do I know you?" he asked in a strange voice.

The girl was frowning at him.

Percy's eyes glanced at my name tag. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, his fists clenching on the table. Just one more thing to prove that he was Percy Jackson. I remember he always had a short fuse. He had been diagnosed with some sort of illness. Not OCD, not ADD… ADHD. That's it.

"You know me, yeah," I said, turned on my heel and stalked off to my cart. I glanced behind me to see Percy rising from his seat, his blond girlfriend looking confused and wary at the same time.

I quickly diverted my eyes and kept walking, hoping he wouldn't talk to me.

No such luck.

"Nancy Bobofit," he said. I stopped and turned, raising an impatient eyebrow.

We gazed at each other coolly. Well, more like glared.

"What?" I snapped, avoiding looking him in the eye because the truth? Every time I did, my heart began pounding an erratic beat in my chest, and I was sure my face went as red as my hair. He was just… it was impossible to even put his twelve year old self in the same thought as his present self. "I'm busy," I said, trying to maintain my angry, nonchalant tone but failing miserably. I sort of trailed off my sentence as if it were a question. It was those eyes. They swirled with a mesmerising sea green lustre.

I mentally smacked myself. I was acting like he was some sort of god. He was still the retarded dork I knew in junior school. Nothing— absolutely nothing— had changed.

"What are you doing here?" Percy asked, a frosty look in his eyes that looked strange. He had the kind of face that was just not meant to frown or glare or look mean.

"I work here," I said flatly, wishing I had walked away the moment I recognised him. I should never have started this conversation. It was getting more and more awkward by the second.

"You live in Manhattan?" he asked incredulously.

"Look, what's your problem? I've lived in Manhattan my entire life, and, by the way, I know you're the guy the whole nation suspects is a notorious criminal. I've seen your picture in the paper like every year and you were always accused of blowing something up. What's up with that?"

Percy stared at me, and I realised that all those words had come out in one huge mumble. I could feel the tips of my ears burning with embarrassment, especially when Percy's super model girlfriend cleared her throat and stood up abruptly, going to stand by Percy's side with her arms crossed, almost possessively.

"Someone you'd like to introduce me to, Percy?" Blondie asked coldly. Her straightforward gaze made me quake in my boots. Her eyes were a startling grey.

"Allow me," I said, my voice back to its normal cadence— in Max's opinion, loud, abrasive and obnoxious. I wanted to at least pretend that those eyes didn't irk me in the slightest. "Nancy Bobofit, Percy Jackson's worst fear."

For some reason, the two looked at each other and cracked up laughing.

I thought I heard Blondie mutter something under her breath like, "You wish, mortal girl," but I told myself I just heard wrong. Because that would mean she was… immortal.

"What?" I asked, flushing. They were looking at me like I was road kill or something. Like they were better than me. It made me angry. "I was just joking."

The blond girl's cheeks flushed with a pretty pink colour that I was immediately envious of. I'm sure it contrasted sharply to my blush that was the red colour of a fire engine truck that rivalled the fiery red of my hair. She seemed to get fed up with me all of a sudden, and she turned on her boyfriend. "Percy, quit avoiding the question, okay! Who is this girl? How does she know you, and why are we wasting our time with her? You obviously don't like her."

"Annabeth, calm down. When I was still at Yancy Academy, nine years ago, she was the school bully." Percy shot a hard glance my way. "Her favourite target was Grover."

I checked the time. It was hard to believe that this exchange had only lasted for a few minutes. So many memories, good and bad, had been conjured up. I already felt like a different person just laying eyes on a bit of my past.

Annabeth, the girl, was fuming now and I swear she wasn't just mad, she was jealous that Percy was talking to another girl. That he even knew another girl. Did she have a problem with redheads or something?

"Grover was a cry baby!" I defended myself. "I stole his sandwich and he told the teacher. He was such a wimp. Big deal."

I was conscious of how long I had been standing around chatting nonsense. My boss was an absolute monster, and if she caught me doing nothing— I would have all hell to pay. Literally. I was in so much debt it wasn't funny, and I couldn't afford to lose this job.

Before either of the attractive couple in front of me could say anything to defend their wimpy friend, I said with mock disappointment in my voice, "Sorry I can't stay and chat, but—"

"Miss Bobofit!" It's times like these I hate my surname. Every head in the room turned to leer at me, the fire engine face to match my fire hose hair. I even hear someone snicker.

My evil boss was standing behind me, glaring at me and tapping her foot. Her severe black bun that was 95% sponge and 5% hair pulled the skin of her face tight, making her look harsh and much like Maleficent (the evil cartoon version with pointy cheeks, not the beautiful Angelina Jolie version).

"This is the fourth time I've caught you lazing about this week. And it's only Tuesday! If it happened one last time, I'm going to have to terminate your occupation here."

I felt my stomach drop. I just couldn't lose this job. "I- I understand, Ms." I kind of wished everybody would turn around and mind their own damn business. This was a private affair between me and Ms. That's what she old everyone to call her. Nobody knew her surname. I wish I could have that luxury. But no, employees had to wear their names loud and proud on their right breast.

Annabeth snickered as soon as Ms had walked away. "Nice one, Bobofit. See you round."

I stared as Percy slung his arm around Annabeth's slim shoulders. He looked at me one last time and shrugged before saying, "Bad karma, huh?"

Then he and Annabeth exited the fast food restaurant, her throwing one last smirk over her shoulder.

Bitch.

And they hadn't even cleaned up after their meal.

I thought about what terrible things I had done in my life to deserve this stupid lot. I used to be kleptomaniac, and I honestly didn't remember a lot of stunts I had pulled on other kids. The medication made my head fuzzy and I couldn't think properly.

So I had bullied Percy's friend when I was twelve and I was going to be paying for it for the rest of my life.

That really is some bad karma.

As I said before, not my best work of art. But please leave your opinion. and who thinks I should add another chapter about how the right man walks into Nancy's life? One who is just as loud and annoying and abrasive as she is... Maybe someone we already know...

Thanks,

MashPotatoeSquishBanana :)