There is nothing like work to remind you that your existence is boring. Day in and day out, the same routine. The same sights. The same people.
The smells change. The winds shift. That's about it.
At sixteen years old, Julia Stephens understands this notion, this oppressive concept. Her life is routine, and she has accepted it that way. It's especially prevalent in the summertime with school out.
Wake up, feed the animals, eat breakfast. Help at the store. Intermittently check on the animals, stock products on the shelves. Eat lunch. Stock more products. Eat supper, take a bath. Doodle. Watch TV. Go to sleep. Tick, tock, tick, tock.
Same old, same old.
The routine is broken slightly by visits to the general store, visits to the doctor, visits to friends. Conversations with neighbors and conversations with customers. She tries to remain cheerful through all of these tasks, so monotonous and trivial, but it proves difficult. It shouldn't be; yet for some reason it is.
Julia blames it on the heat. The sun this year has beaten down harder than all the years before, as though it were making a conscious decision to whoop everybody's collective ass in the span of one humid, exhausting season. And as much good as her fan does in her bedroom, she cannot stay in there all day, every day. She has to work.
On this particular Thursday, she is working the register. Hardly anyone has come in, for no one is willing to traipse around unprotected from the heat. Mirabelle has disappeared into the barn. Julia is alone, left to stare at her nails. She does her best to keep them short and clean, but somehow dirt has wedged its way under a few of them. She frowns and picks at them.
Her attention is soon drawn to another aspect of her fingernails: those white crescent shapes that look like the sun sinking into the horizon. What are they for? Why are they there? She marvels at them for a moment or two. Strange how she has not noticed them before.
Her contemplations on this fascinating facet of biology are broken when the bell above the door rings. A guest! She shoves her hands down at her side and pulls the edges of her lips up into a smile. Can't have anyone notice her inattentiveness. She's focused. She's professional.
A young man steps into the shop. He's tall, uncommonly so—not many guys she has met are taller than her 5'10" stature, and he's wearing way too much to be comfortable in this weather. Yeesh. Her brows pull into a worried frown as he scans the room, eyes landing everywhere but her.
He's going to pass out of heat exhaustion if he keeps that vest on. She knows. She can tell. But she decides not to voice that concern aloud, what with manners and all that. Instead, she chirps, "Hi! Welcome to Animal Crossing. I'm Julia. How may I help you?"
He starts, reminding her of the frightened stray dog she found last week. Had he really not noticed her standing there?
Julia grins and rocks on the balls of her feet, awaiting his reply. He hesitates, pulling his hat off his head and tugging at the kerchief around his neck.
"Is Mirabelle around?"
"Yeah, she's my mom. She's in the barn. What do you need from her?"
"I need to talk to her."
"Okaaaaay," she drawls, stepping in front of the register and gesturing for him to follow. "I'll lead you to her."
She takes him through the backdoor, then across the short yard to the barn. Her mom is standing by the pigs, patting old Graff down with mud.
"It blocks the heat, y'know?" she calls to her daughter before realizing that they have company. "Oh, hey. Who's this? Don't tell me it's your boyfriend. You know my policy on boyfriends—"
"No, Mom, it's a guy who needs to speak with you." She turns to the stranger. "Uh, what's your name?"
"Vaughn," he answers curtly, the hat back on his head.
"Yeah. Vaughn needs to talk to you."
"Oh, Vaughn! Right! You're the boy Violet's been talkin' about." Mirabelle pats her hands dry and waves at her daughter to leave. "Go on now. Man the register. Give us some privacy."
I'm not an animal, Mom. You can't talk to me like that, Julia is tempted to scream, but she simply nods and leaves. Like a servant.
She pouts as she leans against the counter. Who needs conversation when you have fingernails?
Twenty minutes later, Mirabelle returns to the shop, noticeably muddier and, more noticeably, Vaughn-less.
That's interesting.
"Where is he? Is he hanging out with the animals?" Julia asks, reaching for her glass of water. She sips it without ceremony, letting droplets slide down her chin.
"Yeah, he is. He's on mud-duty."
"So is he working here now?" Julia tilts her head to the side, curious. "Did you hire him?"
"Yep. He needed work, and he's good with animals."
"Can I talk to him?"
"Not until your shift is over."
"But Mooooom—"
"No buts. I'm going to get cleaned up and prepare supper. Close up at five."
"Fine."
Julia watches her Mom slip into the kitchen. She stands still for another five minutes before locking up the register and creeping out the backdoor.
The new hire is standing by Joey and Barley, a bucket of mud in one of his gloved hands. The pigs oink excitedly as he dumps the mud onto their backs. Julia watches with amusement as he dodges the bits of wet dirt that fly in every which way while the pigs jump around, squealing their happiness.
"Need any help with that?" Julia offers.
Vaughn glances over his shoulder briefly, and when he doesn't say anything, she approaches.
"That's Joey." She points at the spotted, rotund oinker. "And that's Barley next to him."
The young man continues to ignore her, choosing instead to roll his sleeves up his forearm. They're slightly tanned. He must work a lot in the sun.
She shifts her gaze to his profile. "I'm Julia."
"You said that already."
She lifts her eyebrows, and a giggle escapes her. "It's nice to meet you, Vaughn. Mom said you're the new worker here, which is great! It gets so boring without anyone else my age to talk to. You are around my age, right? You don't look old. I'm sixteen. What about you?"
"Seventeen."
"Cool! Is this like a summer job for you? Because I help out mainly in the summer. Otherwise I'm still in high school. Where do you go to school?"
"I don't," he grunts.
"Oh." She scratches her neck absent-mindedly and takes a step toward the sheep, bleating miserably in the shadiest corner of the barn. "Would you like to meet the other animals? They are adorable!"
"Mirabelle's already showed 'em to me."
"Well, has Mom shown you the baby lamb born last week? He's so cute, and I got to name him!"
"Lambs are, by definition, 'babies.'"
"Yeah, well that wasn't the question. Has Mom showed him to you or not?" She doesn't mean to snap, but she does. Again, she blames it on the heat.
Vaughn simply shrugs. "Guess I missed him."
"Good." A triumphant smile lights up her face as she reaches out to grip his upper left arm. She can tell he wants to pull away, but her hands are like iron clamps.
He presses his lips together as she drags him over to the fresh pile of hay that has been laid out for the tiny lamb perched atop it. He sits like a prince, staring through bleary eyes at the odd duo and emitting a soft bahh.
"I named him Fluffy. He's so cuuuuute!" Julia reaches out to stroke its head. "Don't you think so?"
Vaughn shrugs. "It's jus' a sheep."
"But he's adorable. And soft and cuddly! Come on, pet him."
"Nah." He takes his hat off and wipes sweat from his brow with his arm. "Sheep are dumb."
Julia's eyes widen, her mouth falling open in a gasp. Who does this guy think he is to be insulting her favorite animal?
"How can you think that? That's so…mean—"
"Even a pig's smarter than a sheep."
"So what? Can't you like them for their appearances instead? They look waaaaay more adorable than pigs!"
The new hire puts his hat back on his head. "Whatever."
"Hmph." The blonde turns back to the baby animal and rubs a soft spot behind the lamb's ear. It bleats again, though this time it sounds more like a purr. "Don't listen to this mean man. You're smart, aren't you?"
As though the world is out to humiliate her, Fluffy does not nod its head in agreement or give any sign it has heard or even pretended to have heard her. Instead he bites the girl's index finger: a small nibble, but enough to send her jumping backward with a yelp.
"What the heck!" She coddles her hand to her chest, disbelief in her blue eyes. Her mind reels with embarrassment. "That…That doesn't usually…Hey, stop laughing!"
Vaughn can't help himself. This is perfect timing; manners be damned. The chuckles fall from his lips before he is able to rein them in.
"Stupid sheep," Julia mutters to herself under her breath. She turns away and examines her wound. Though a small drop of blood has welled upon the surface, the bite is shallow. Not serious.
"I guess he is kinda smarter than he looks."
She scowls but doesn't take the bait. If there's one thing she has learned throughout her first two years of high school, it's that bickering with a teenaged boy is not worth pursuing, never worth pursuing. Especially in such hot weather. Especially while she's bleeding. It all tends to end in a sweaty, sticky mess.
"…Whatever. I'm going to get this cleaned."
Her boots sound loudly against the wooden floors. Smirking, Vaughn pulls a glove off and reaches for the lamb's soft coat.
In the bathroom, chewing her lower lip with concentration, Julia squeezes ointment onto a small bandage.
A knock sounds on the door.
"Come in."
She doesn't even have to look at him to know what's happened. The sound of shame echoes loudly against the tiled walls.
"You got an extra one of those?"