Eddward
Today I, Eddward "Double D" Marion Vincent, at 17 years old, begin my very first job. Honestly, I'm completely dreading it. I absolutely adore science, and I have always been enamored with Mathematics, especially when applied, but grunt work is a whole separate book. I am capable of demeaning myself to the occasional cooking and cleaning, and one could say I even excel in these endeavors, but I get no enjoyment from them. Any enjoyment I would have gained from such things was lost when the geniuses I spawned from chose to travel the world for big pharma in lieu of raising their only child. I digress, there are only 45 minutes left to arrive at my destination, and I abhor being tardy.
I finish dressing into my uniform and combing my hair with 30 minutes left to walk down the road to my location. Despite my distaste for grunt work, I manage to think positively and hum a tune as I walk down the road. It doesn't take too long to arrive, I have about 10 minutes to spare, which I spend reading informative articles on my phone against the wall outside of Antonio's, an authentic Italian pizza place. The time passes to just 3 minutes prior to expected arrival so I stroll inside and alert the older, scruffy man named George that I was ready to clock in. He shows me their clock in system which still utilizes old paper slips and time stampers, I guess I should expect nothing less from a traditional restaurant. George tells me the training regimen, tossing dough, preparing the crust, topping the pizza, boxing it up, servicing the customers, utilizing the wood-fired oven, and finally preparing the fresh ingredients by hand.
As we walk throughout the back of the restaurant I get acquainted with my new coworkers, all are students of Peach Creek High so I know of them in some sense, but there are not many I have taken the time to converse with. Stephanie is a tall, slim girl with pale skin and cute red hair pulled into a ponytail, but she appears to believe she is without fault and her personality is lacking significantly. She refuses to work anywhere except as a waitress, and manages to create a sweet facade in order to rake in tips. Corey is a short, slim boy with dark skin and shaved black hair with black rimmed glasses; he is delightful, very friendly and takes time in his work to do a good job. Delilah is a short, rounder girl with tanned skin and brown hair that falls loosely into curls; she's quiet but appears friendly enough and focuses on the task at hand. Then, there's Kevin, the literal boy next door, tall, muscular, lightly tanned skin with spiky red hair kept under his favorite red baseball cap; he's loud, friendly, and an assistant manager to George.
George demonstrates his method for tossing dough and remarks, "Everyone changes it up to some degree, so don't feel obliged to follow this exactly, I'm gonna do the first three and then you can try it out with me."
I nod along and watch carefully as he spins the dough into the air expertly and catches it upon his fingertips. I have created a pizza or two in the past while studying international cultures, so I have a basic idea of what it takes to make an authentic Italian pizza and I catch onto the dough tossing rather quickly.
George laughs and says, "Hey, you're not Italian are you? You've caught on like a champ." I smile lightly and shrug, placing the tossed dough in the crusting area for Corey to work on. George slaps me on the back playfully and leaves me to take care of the dough on my own while he returns to the ovens.
While I'm working, I hum the tune of a new favorite song of mine and focus on catching the dough once it finishes spinning, which is the most difficult part of the tossing process in my opinion.
A voice perks up from behind me, "Hey where's that tune from? I think I recognize it." I lose my focus for a moment as the deep but cheerful voice shocks through me and the dough I had just tossed lands on the floor beneath me.
I blush and clench my teeth with my head down, ashamed for costing the store money on my first day as a hand gently lands on my back. I shift slightly to see Kevin to my side, "Ooh, hey, my bad man, I didn't realize you were in the zone. Let me clean that up for you," he says gently and half smiles at me.
I blush deeper and shrug his hand off, looking away as I work the next ball of dough, "It's 'Budapest' by George Erza, it hasn't actually been broadcast through any popular radio stations yet… Do you know where you would have heard it from?" I say with some surprise as I had just discovered the song from a concert I attended a couple months prior where George Erza played as an opening act for Bastille.
Kevin shrugs as he mops over the oily area from the pizza dough and comments, "I have a friend that is, like, obsessed with music, so I probably jammed to it while chilling with him."
I think about the friend I had accompanied to the concert, he had been even more excited about seeing the opening acts than the main events, I would bet that he and Kevin's friend would coincide wonderfully. I chuckle lightly remembering my friend's enthusiasm and return to my work as Kevin appears to return to his.
My shift is finally nearing its end and I am more drained than I would have expected from a 6 hour shift. I suppose it's not exactly surprising, I am more accustomed to sitting and studying rather than standing and tossing. Kevin has been working at the table behind me making the dough for me to toss as well as items like tomato sauce and their garlic parmesan oil spread, he occasionally makes loud jokes and comments to anyone and everyone within the restaurant who wishes to converse with him. I can't help but to admire his confidence and social strength, as well as his physical strength, his uniform top hugs his pectoral muscles tightly and really displays his form well… ah, I appear to be dallying on frivolities, and surely this blush is merely one of exhaustion. Wiping my brow, I shake my head of my not entirely unpleasant thoughts and go to speak to George about ending my shift after thoroughly washing my hands and face at the sink.
George looks back at the clock and says, "Ah, yep it's about that time; go ahead and let Kevin know it's time for him to get going as well." He continues with orders for a couple newly arrived staff members to take our place. Matthew is a tall, tanned man that I have never seen before, he has short black hair with slight bangs and a goatee, while Brenda is an older woman on the shorter side with pale skin and dark brown hair pulled into a neat bun, her figure is larger, but healthy.
I make my way over to Kevin who is stirring a large bucket of tomato sauce and sweating lightly across his furrowed brow. Gulping lightly, I speak, "Ah, Kevin, it appears we have been relinquished from our duties."
Kevin raises an eyebrow and slows his stirring, "What are we doing, dork? You're gonna have to speak common for me," he says with a laugh.
I blush lightly and stutter, "A-ah, George says we're free to go now." I look away and try to will away the embarrassment before walking off towards the time stamping machine. Kevin mentions a word of thanks and goes to clean himself off behind me, and I let out a small sigh. I finish marking the time of my departure and go to step outside when Kevin appears behind me.
"Hey dork, wanna ride? There's no sense in walking alone this late when you live just across the road from me," Kevin offers with a smile. He gestures to his large red truck across the parking lot and begins walking toward it without me.
I jog lightly to catch up and thank him, "That would be most appreciated, Kevin. I am rather worn out after working today. Your truck looks quite nice; did you purchase it just from the wages you make here?" I blush lightly at the personal question, finances aren't a topic which is considered polite conversation, and the words just bubbled up without warning. "Er, you don't have to answer that; that was quite rude of me. Please forgive my foolish inquiry," I apologize and play with the rim of my black and white striped ski cap nervously.
Kevin laughs, "Nah dude, don't worry about it. This was actually a gift from my pops for my last birthday. It is pretty rad, huh? Do you need help with your door or do you got it?" He hovers at the back of his truck while I'm analyzing the slight climb required to pull myself into the vehicle.
I chuckle nervously as I imagine all of the plausible ways I could embarrass myself in this moment and hold my breath as I clamber into the tall vehicle in what is hopefully a normal way. "I've got it, no problem, see? I'm prepared for departure as soon as I fasten my safety belt," I say in what I hope appears to be a cheerful manner.
Kevin laughs and walks around to his door and swings in masterfully. The engine roars to life beneath the turn of his key and then buckles himself in. "Holding On To You" by Twenty One Pilots blasts over the radio through a previously entered CD. I nervously clutch to the safety belt currently holding my waist securely and stare forward. Kevin cocks an eyebrow my way before pulling out of the parking lot and down the street towards our respective homes. I hum along to the song and close my eyes, Twenty One Pilots is one of the bands my friend has been very excited about recently and I have to admit that their music is quite pleasant.
Kevin clears his throat, "Hey dork, this is your stop. Good work today." He smiles and sends a shiver down my spine which I attempt to ignore. I smile back and wave with a small word of thanks before climbing out of the truck and quickly walking into the safety of my home. I breathe a large sigh of relief as I close my door behind me and clear my mind of the muscular boy's charming nature. He has never been so kind to me in the past, and this is likely a temporary state of affairs. Best not to let myself think anything different.
