(Smithville Soda Shop)
"It's gettin' late, Bernice. Shouldn't you be headin' for home?" Mr. Thompson asked.
Bernice looked up from the chrome counter that she was polishing. "I'm almost finished, Mr. Thompson. I want this counter to be cleaner than you've ever seen it before."
Mr. Thompson walked over to his employee. "Why Bernice, if you keep scrubbin' that counter, it'll turn to dust!"
Bernice laughed. "Get real, Mr. Thompson! But I know what you're implying."
"Good, now go on home. I know your mama's missin' you and I'm sure you have some schoolwork to do. I don't want to be responsible for your grades slippin' young lady!"
"Okay, Mr. Thompson. See you tomorrow?"
"Bernice, tomorrow's your day off."
"Oh..." Bernice said, emphasizing the disappointment in her voice.
"Well, all right. You can come in tomorrow afternoon. But only for a few hours, and only if it's okay with your mama. Make sure you ask her, okay? If she says 'no', it won't be a problem." Mr. Thompson said.
"Thank you, Sir. I really appreciate this. And I'm sure it's just fine with Mama. She always says that hard work pays off."
"It sure does, Bernice. And this proves it."
"What's this?" Bernice asked when Mr. Thompson handed her a white envelope.
"Payday."
Excitedly she tore open the envelope and unfolded the paycheck, but her heart fell when she read the amount: $158.56.
"Thanks, Mr. Thompson."
"You've earned it, Bernice. I hope you have something special in mind for that money. You certainly deserve it."
Her smile was forced, but she tried to make it look as natural as possible.
"Now go on home, okay?"
Bernice removed her apron and hat, and then flung her backpack over her shoulder. "Goodnight, Mr. Thompson. See you tomorrow afternoon?"
Mr. Thompson sighed. "Sure, Bernice. Tell your Mama I said hello, okay?"
"I will. Goodnight."
The tinkling bells on the glass door signaled her exit as she walked out of the soda shop and headed for home.
She glanced at the paycheck again.
$158.56.
Nowhere near the amount needed for that perfect dress. She might as well face it. She'd never have enough money to buy it, no matter how many hours she worked.
Mr. Thompson was right. She was exhausted from working from the time she got out of school until almost ten at night.
The soda shop closed at 7, but she insisted on staying and cleaning until it was spotless. Mr. Thompson was reluctant at first, but when she insisted he finally gave in.
She'd been so tired when she got home that she'd fallen asleep right at her desk. And at school she could hardly keep her eyes open. Worse, there were the missed assignments and falling grades, which she begged her teachers to give her extra credit, telling them that she was working extra hours to help out her mother whose portrait studio was struggling to make ends meet.
But she just knew that it would all be worth it in the end. She'd feel like a princess in that gorgeous dress and her daddy would have the time of his life. He might even have memories of when he and Mama went to the prom so many years ago. The thought made her smile.
Suddenly she was hit with reality. If she didn't get that dress, she didn't know what she'd do. It was one of the lesser expensive ones in Rachel's shop, which wasn't saying a whole lot. Most of the dresses there were upwards of $700 and there were some that ran as high as $1000. A drop in the bucket for some of the Smithville High School Cheerleaders whose parents drove BMW's and had lake homes on Lake Travis.
But her daddy liked perfection and always expected it out of her mama. So Bernice was determined to show him that his daughter had grown up into a beautiful young woman.
