Disclaimer: I'mma just keep on dreaming.
A/N: Ridiculous amount of reviews, it's so amazing. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Honestly, it just makes my day. I just want to reply to one anonymous reviewer [skip ahead, if you want]:
Quietbettle: Oh. Oops. -.- I didn't pay so much attention to Valencia's hair, ahah, I guess I imagined her with blonde hair when I was writing her in this fic, but thanks for pointing it out, I'll fix it from here on in ^-^ And, yeah, I spell it Mum, 'cos, as mentioned on several occasions, I am British, and, American as I'm trying to make this story, every time I'd write Mom, a part of my Britishness would die (; Sorry.
Just wanted to clarify a couple of things that review pointed out, for everyone really! ^-^ Sorry this is so late, I've been working like hell on something original, and I published a Max Ride one-shot a couple of days ago, so check that out if you want – I'd really appreciate any feedback you guys have!
So, here we gooo~
Guess what? It's Saturday, and I'm heading off to work. I know, I know, I can tell you're all having a WTF moment, and I really don't blame you – Ig tried to slap some sense into me when I first told him. Let's just say he won't be having children any time soon, and he was very, very sorry afterwards.
Okay, so my job (God, it feels weird saying that). I didn't want it – no, I don't want it. I wasn't the one who went and freaking applied for it – Ella did.
Is it time for a flashback? I think it is. Cue dramatic lighting and the Jaws theme...
"Hey!" Ella swung through the front door, looking abnormally pleased with herself. Glancing up from my spot, slouched on the sofa texting Dylan, I saw that her hair wasn't perfectly straight, and, when Ella's hair's messy, people die. Or get severely injured. People = me. Hmm. Worrying time.
"What the hell's up with you?"
"Excuse me?" Ella perched her backside (see? No swearing. I'm learning). "It is a sad, sad day when a young girl can't come in from an afternoon out with her best friend-"
"Save it," I rolled my eyes at her. "What've you done?"
"I can't believe you're accusing me of this!"
"I can't believe you've managed to deny it for this long. This is a record for you."
"What are you on about?" she gave me a weird look.
"Well, you normally crack after a minute or so, but-" I checked the time on my iPhone (yes, I feel the need to say iPhone rather than mobile every time. Get over it) "-according to my iPhone, it's been two minutes, so congratulations."
"Have I mentioned recently I hate you?" she glared at me.
"That," I said darkly, pointing at her with my index finger, "is my line, and you know it. Don't deny it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," she said with a grin.
"Okay, spill. What have you been doing?" I finally gave in.
"Just getting the new lip gloss from that brand I like," she replied, shrugging nonchalantly. Urgh. Please someone hold me back – I'm that close to throttling her. No. Joke.
"Okay," I said very slowly, trying to keep- no, become calm. "What else?"
"Nothing, really," she said, her tone bored. There was a spark in her eyes, though, that suggested something completely different. Cue a deep sigh on my part. "Stopped by Bessie's teapot."
"There's a teapot in our kitchen, you know," I shot her a weird look. I mean, who goes out to look at someone's teapot? "You didn't need to go to all that trouble."
"You really are an idiot," she giggled, for no apparent reason.
"I'm not the one going to look at teapots!" I bit back, insulted.
She shook her head, laughing, "The café opposite your death wish park?"
"Death wish?"
"You're the ones throwing yourselves off hills made of concrete."
"You're the one who's going to get make-up poisoning."
"Make-up poisoning?"
"Poisoning from make-up."
"Well, you don't say," she rolled her eyes at me.
"You asked!"
"As in-" she cut herself off, shaking her head again. "Never mind."
"Go on." I prompted, glaring.
"Go on what?"
"So you went to Bessie's, and then?"
"Oh. Well, guess what? They're hiring!"
Oh. My. Wizard. God. (Yes, that's right, I watched A Very Potter Musical. And I enjoyed it. So there.) Please. No.
"You got a job?" I asked incredulously, because, honestly, the chances of Ella getting a job are like the chances of Malfoy (a.k.a Lauren Lopez) ever actually going to Pigfarts (I'm planning to enrol. No joke).
"Nope," she grinned. "You do, though."
And then hell broke loose. Let's just say, physical violence was employed, and I ended up taping a sheet of paper to her door later that night:
Reasons why Maximum Martinez has declared war on Ella Martinez
1. Max now has to get up before 12am on both Saturday and Sunday, although thankfully without the help of Iggy (her new lock was proving effective).
2. She. Has. To. Get. Up. Before. Twelve. It's worthy of two reasons.
3. As afore mentioned, she has to get up before twelve for work. Where anyone can come and laugh at her.
4. Ella spends too much time in the bathroom, and the lock on her bedroom was completely unnecessary.
5. Ella stole Max's headphones and claimed the dog ate them (they don't own a dog).
6. Ella allows Nudge into the house.
7. Ella is going to laugh at Max at her new job.
8. Ella is going to get everyone else to laugh at Max at her new job.
9. Ella likes Lady Gaga.
10. Ella is Ella.
I could've mentioned many, many more, but that would overload her little brain.
Smirking at the memory, I turn the door into the little café, wondering what her reaction would be - I only did it this morning, and guess what? She wasn't up when I left. Because, you know, some people can actually sleep in on a Saturday morning.
"Maximum, darling!" I'm immediately enfolded into the arms of... a man? "So nice to have you working here!"
As politely as I can (which isn't very politely, seeing as I am me), I extract myself, noting the wetness of my cheek, most likely from a pair of male lips. Sure enough, in front of me, is a man with sandy-blond hair, and a scarf tied around his neck. I kid you not.
"Uh," I said eloquently. "I thought I was working for Bessie?" Oh, nice Max, point out the obvious, why don't you?
He laughed. I've never heard a camper laugh.
"Bessie's my mother!" he tried to put an arm around my shoulders; I moved. "Well, come on in, let's get you all kitted out, shall we? I'm Simon, and I'll be your employer!"
He giggled at his own crappy humour as he led me into a back room, lined with hooks adorned with plain, white, dirty aprons and caps. Caps. No. No way. I refuse to look like an absolute Iggy (my new substitute for the word idiot. If the shoe fits...).
"So, dear, just pick an apron, and then we'll get you out there," he grinned at me; I recoiled. "Come out when you're ready!"
He skipped out. Skipped. I'm not joking. I have absolutely nothing against gays - it's just Saturday morning, and I was hoping for a woman as tired as me, but no. I got a possibly gay man (what am I on about, possibly? No, Max, no assuming) who's as wide awake as if it's six pm (which, incidentally, is only the time I really wake up).
I surveyed the ugly dress-like things swaying on the hooks, and cursed Ella to a life without lipstick. Or lipgloss. Or any manufactured thing that you put on your lips. Ever. Ha. That's what I call revenge. Reaching out, I grabbed one, then shoved it on, hoping it was the right way. I knotted the strings behind me, not daring to look down at my Iggyotic appearance. God help me.
Okay, this apron thing is bad enough - there is no way, in hell, I'm wearing the hat. Nothing against hats, I'm sure they all have very nice personalities, just no. Not ever. Get it? Got it?
Good.
Here goes... I pushed open, and crept back into the restaurant, quickly scanning the tables for any sign of teenage life. None yet, thank God.
"Max!" Simon came bounding over (literally). "Oh, don't you look lovely! Like a real member of the Teapot family!"
I resisted the urge to gag. Please let that be the last mention of any family within this restaurant, teapot-related or not.
"So, you just have to take orders," he jumped over to an empty table. I just stood there, arms folded. "And then clip them to this string here," he leapt to a pulley-system with several clothes pegs tagged onto it, "give it a little tug," he demonstrated with a flourish, "and then you're all done! Just grab the food and everything when you see it here, okay?" He gestured to an empty crevice in the wall. "Oh, look! Your first customers!"
I glanced over at the door, hoping for some adorable old couple, and was instead met with a stony emo kid, and a way over-perky red-haired girl wearing some skirt that was obviously meant to show three-quarters of her knickers.
You. Are. Kidding. Me.
No, this isn't true. It really is some joke. It's just a crappy nightmare, and I'm going to wake up any moment with Iggy's Iggyotic face in mine, right up close, a stupid beam plastered across the face.
There was a silence, and we all just looked at each other. I swear Fang's lips were twitching. Honest. Astonished, Brigid just gazed at me with big eyes.
Oh, shit.
No, they were definitely twitching... oh my God, he was trying not to laugh. Oh my wizard God, I'm going to kill him. I really am.
"Well, good luck!" Simon started to skip off, before turning back to yell, "May the teapot be with you!"
I just stood there, mortified, as he cackled to himself in the kitchen, perfectly audible to everyone. Mental facepalm time.
"Sit down," I ordered the happy couple, not looking at them. When they didn't move, I sent them a quick glare. "Sit down! God!"
Okay, so I wasn't in the best mood. Would you? I mean, you're at a crappy job, with a weird employer, wearing a crappy apron, and your former crappy best friend just walked in with his new girlfriend. Brilliant situation, that.
"What are you doing here, Max?" Brigid asked, still not sitting down.
"What are you doing here, Brigid?" I mocked, kicking a chair her way. Oh my wizard God, just sit down, you stupid stupendous Doctor!
"Me and Fang just thought we'd grab some coffee before we went to catch a movie," she replied, all smiles as she finally sank down into the chair. I really wanted to raise an eyebrow at Fang, mouthing 'coffee?' because, hello, Fang hates coffee. And tea, for that matter. But of course, I couldn't. It tends to ruin your friendship, having a giant argument and then not talking for five days.
Because five days of me not talking is pretty major for me.
"Good for you," I said shortly after Dark, Silent and Infinitely Annoying joined her at the table. "Hang on."
I marched off, mentally swearing as loudly and as explicitly as I could, grabbing two menus off the rack at the door, and noting with dismay that Ella, arm-in-arm with Nudge, Dylan, Iggy and Sam tailing behind them both, was coming up the path. She caught sight of me and waved; I shot her the bird.
Let me off, okay? I'm in a crappy mood.
Turning my back on the group of people I currently hated most in the world despite them all being my best friends, I slammed the vinyl-coated menus down on their table, muttering ... things about Ella under my breath.
"Oh, thank you," Brigid thanked me, all sunshine and lollipops. Well, not lollipops, or sunshine for that matter, but you know what I mean. "I'll have coffee please!"
"Sorry," I apologised in my sweetest, most genuine voice. "We don't serve hags."
She gasped, Fang burst out laughing, and there was applause from the guys behind me.
"Now that," Sam said, coming to my side to lean on my shoulder, "is an insult."
"High-five, shortie," Iggy added, grinning as he shoved his sweaty palm in my face.
"Get lost," I shoved him away forcefully, glaring at the devil.
"Nice apron," she winked, dragging Nudge to a table so I couldn't batter her to within an inch of her life.
Dylan nodded at me as he passed, amusement dancing in his eyes, but he was too nice to say anything - plus he knew I'd probably elbow him where the sun don't shine, just to get fired.
"Hmph," Brigid looked at me, tears in the corners of her eyes before she blinked them away, and stood. "Come on, Fang."
Yeah, go on, Fang. Make another decision. Stick with us, or your pet retard (not Iggy. The other one).
"Let's get your coffee," he eventually said quietly. "We did come here."
"I guess," she sighed, already placated, sinking back down, glancing at me. "Coffee, please, Max."
I smirked at her, scrawling down HAG LIQUID, then turned the pad around, so she could see. She murmured something about immaturity, but I could see Fang's shoulders were shaking. Some boyfriend, huh? He's real loyal. Didn't want him as a friend anyway.
"Excuse me?" Ella called out, oh so sweetly. "Waiter? Menus?"
Iggy snorted, "Yes, Sir, you seem to be forgetting us."
Stalking over to them, I grabbed Fang and Brigid's menus and threw them at the guys, "And you seem to be forgetting I'm not against murdering you all in your sleep. I'd enjoy it."
There was a chorus of 'oohs' as I stormed off, clipping Brigid's paper to the paper line (see what I did there? I think you did), before pushing into the kitchen, an idea forming in my mind.
"Hey," I nodded at the chef who was stood in the fire exit, smoking a cigarette. "I'm the new waitress. Mind if I make this drink?"
"Whatever," he consented with a wave of his hand, taking another drag of his cigarette. Another glance at him proved he was definitely hung-over. Ew.
I grabbed a mug from the stack on one side, placed it on the counter, flicking the kettle on. Then I looked around for something brown and generally disgusting I could shove in there.
What? You actually thought I was going to make Doctor Stupendous coffee? Yeah, right. Not in this lifetime. Or any other, for that matter.
My eyes locked onto a wilting potted plant, perched precariously on the edge of the lone windowsill. A plant pot... filled with mud. I couldn't... could I?
Yes. Yes I could.
Scooping up a handful of germ-infested mud, I flung it haphazardly into the mug, pouring the boiling into it too. The mud dissolved, leaving a misleadingly healthy brown colour that could definitely pass as coffee, in my book.
Marching back out, flinging a glare at Ella, who smiled back at me, I pressed the cup into Brigid's hands, conjuring up a smile.
"Here," I said, as softly as I could.
"Oh!" The sad thing? She wasn't even suspicious. You'd think she'd have learnt, by now, that I really, really don't like her, and her stupid walk "Thanks, Max!" She even smiled at me.
"Excuse me?" Iggy called. "Waiter? We're ready to order."
"Good for you," I yelled back, glad that there weren't any customers other than my little group of dear retards, and completely unwilling to miss Brigid's first sip of her 'coffee'.
"This is shocking," Sam said, disgusted. To my annoyance, Brigid set the coffee mug down on the table, craning her neck to see Sam. Can you even say nosey? I mean, God. They're just bitching about me, nothing new.
"I know," Ella agreed sadly. I ground my teeth audibly, trying to ignore Fang, who I knew was watching me.
"I think," Iggy said, "we should take up this rude worker's attitude with the manager."
"I'm coming!" I shouted, frustrated, at the same time Ella snorted:
"He's as gay as the fourth of July. Useless."
I resisted the urge to laugh, reluctantly turning away from the sickening couple, and their little baby mud cup, and stomping over to stand in front of their table with one hand on my hip.
"Ohmigod, Max, that apron is like so ugly it's like uglier than Lissa and you know how ugly she is and ugh it's like dirty too you should totally buy a designer one OHMIGOD I'll make you a designer apron with flowers and birds and it'll be like really pretty and I can make a business and earn millions and everything! What d'you think, Ella?" She turned to Ella excitedly, who just nodded, knowing Nudge wasn't really expecting an answer after one of her rants.
"Coke, please," Dylan cut in calmly, giving me one of those drop-dead gorgeous smiles that seem to light up his whole face. "Thanks, Max." I threw him a grateful smile, before turning to Iggy, who was conducting an imaginary orchestra of Pokemon... with his fork.
"Psyduck... uh... what do ducks do?" he asked me, noticing I was watching him with a worried expression. Please shoot me.
"Moo?" Ella offered.
"No, that's Brigid," Sam shook his head.
"Oh, yeah," she nodded. "Um... bark?"
"That's Lissa!" Nudge giggled.
"Meow?"
"Don't strain yourself, idiots," I rolled my eyes. "They quack. Duh."
Dylan laughed, and Iggy shot me daggers.
"I'll have the fanciest, most difficult thing to make drink on the menu," he said smugly.
"Good, 'cos I don't have to make it," I replied, sticking my tongue out. "Sammy?"
"Sammy?" he cocked an eyebrow, his smile amused.
"As in short for Samantha," I said, smiling sweetly.
"Shut it," he grinned. "Uh... Pepsi, please."
This obviously lead to a war of the Coke-drinkers versus the Pepsi-inhalers, during which I just walked away, clipped the ink-infested paper to the line, tugged it so the chef would see, and resumed my post, watching Brigid.
She pulled the cup up to her lips, under the gaze of Fang, parted her mouth, just a little... Instead of taking a ladylike sip, like Ella, she took a hearty gulp, smiling... before spitting it out all over Fang's hair. I'd say face, but seeing as it's covered with his ridiculous fringe, that'd be a lie.
I couldn't help it. Honest, I couldn't. I just burst out laughing. Loudly, as well.
"Oh... oh my God!" she snatched a napkin up and started dabbing at Fang like a demented chicken. "I'm so, so, so sorry! It's all that Max's fault!" As she said my name, she shot the dirtiest look she could, causing my laughter to double.
Fang was covered in slimy, brown gunk, and looked even more ridiculous than normal. He was smiling, though, as he grabbed a napkin from another table, and tried to wipe the stuff off himself. He only succeeded in getting it more and more ground in, though, and I couldn't help but laugh even harder at his frustrated expression.
"Hey, Max?" Dylan called me, from their table. I gazed up at him, tears in my eyes I'd been laughing so hard. "Do you have a moment? I, uh, want to, um, talk to you, if you have a moment, I mean."
He looked nervous, so I just nodded, guessing that the chef wasn't going to be moving from his spot any time soon. As he got up, he stumbled over the leg of his chair awkwardly, and ended up with his face in Iggy's nether regions. Oh, God. Please no perverse comments, Ig.
"Woah, tiger," he pulled Dylan up, grinning, "that can all wait 'till later."
"Ig, you're disgusting," I told him as Dylan walked over to me, cheeks burning. "You okay?" I asked him.
"I'm good," he said with a smile. "I was, uh, just wondering..." he trailed off, and I was suddenly very aware that both Ella and Fang were watching us surreptitiously. Nice friends, huh?
"What's up?" I asked lazily.
"I... uh..." he choked on his own words, looking at the floor and rubbing the back of his neck, before looking up at me again. "Will you... uh... will you... oh, man, um... will you go out with me?"
A/N: CLIFFY! ;D Sorry, sorry, I'll try and get the next one up sooner, I KNOW this was way late. So, just to explain something:
Oh my wizard God/Pigfarts is from A Very Potter Musical/A Very Potter Sequel, the funniest thing ever. If you haven't watch it, get over to YouTube RIGHT NOW and watch it all. Both musicals. Or I'll hunt you down. I promise, you'll be crying with laughter at the end. Oh, and thanks to Joe Walker, you'll want to be a Death Eater. Trust me.
And if you have seen it, make sure you convince my non-helpful non-friend Not Dumb. Dim Blonde just how good it is. And while you're at it, check out her story Making Memories [yes, I'm promoting it again].
So, anyway. Hope you liked it!
Review?