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9. Jules's Summer Job

Jules sat on a barstool in the kitchen, tossing paper balls into the trashcan across the room. Well, at least trying. Most of them landed a couple feet away from the trashcan. Tibby walked in, carrying Rebecca in her arms. She took one look at the pile of paper and rolled her eyes.

"You really need to get a life, Jules," Tibby said, putting Rebecca in her highchair.

"I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth," Jules replied dully, tossing another ball of paper. It missed by an inch.

"You should try basketball. All teams need benchwarmers."

"Mom, would you stop?" Jules got off the barstool to hand Tibby Rebecca's baby food from the fridge. "I hate basketball. I hate group sports. I am not a group sport kinda girl. And I have a life. It might be sucky right now because all my friends ditched me and I have to baby-sit everyday, but nevertheless, it is a life."

"Do you want to add in your broke to your 'My Life Sucks' list?" Tibby asked, as Rebecca giggled in her highchair.

"It isn't funny, Rebecca," Jules replied, "Mom is a bad influence. She has streaks of blue in her hair!"

Tibby touched her hair and smiled. Bridget, Lena, and Carmen dyed her hair with streaks for her birthday, like they had done when they were sixteen. "Oh, here I thought you'd be interested in a summer job." Tibby got up, went to her purse, and pulled of a folded flyer.

Jules took it, her eyes following the print. "You want me to work at McDonald's?" she asked plainly.

"Well, its extra cash," Tibby reasoned. "So, yeah, it would get you out of the house."

"You. Want. Me. To. Work. With. Other. People."

Tibby blinked. "Yeah. It would move you up on the social scale."

Jules took the paper up to her room. "Fine. I'll go wallow in self pity and try to get used to the visor. I'll go put on my Disneyland one."

But when she got up to her room, she went straight to her computer to email Carson, Ana, and Sophia. Sophia probably wouldn't get it until she came back, Carson too, but she didn't care. Ana would answer.

To: "Ana "Carson Richman" "Sophia Paoli"

From: "Jules Quillis" I wish I could be with you guys but I'm stuck here working at McDonald's

Hey Dudes, Guess What?

Juliet gets to work at McDonald's! Won't that be fun? Just to let you know, I was being sarcastic, but you all can think otherwise (I know you will, Civic). Anyway, Mom got me the job because she thinks it will raise me on the social scale. I am social enough. And she says it is another thing to add on my sucky life list. She has one, too! And I always get teased by it. Natalie is only 13, I wish she was a year older that way she could get a job! Hannah isn't even 9, dang it! And we won't even say anything about Rebecca.

So, Carson, how's soccer treating you? Find any hot guys? No, I already know the answer to that. Of COURSE you did. And guess what, you are going to get that guy to. Your ex-boyfriend Jack will be on his hands and knees begging for you back when he sees you've gotten blonder, tanner, even better built, and with a hot soccer player at your side.

Soph, I know you've met a hot Italian. So dish, what is his name? And if you haven't, find one! Take as many pictures as you can and remember to say I'm the coolest, nicest, most gorgeous person you know (yeah, right). And take pictures of Italy in general. But don't forget the guy in the bathing suit. If you get lucky, it'll be a Speedo. wink wink. I am a loser. But ya love me anyway. And hurry up and send that journal! We're all getting restless!

Ana, darling cough (j/k) how is Virginia treating you? Are you being nice to everyone? How are Paul and Krista? Better or worse than you remember? I'm just kidding again. What about your cousins? Have you met a hot guy yet? Find one for me. I guess I'll find one at McDonald's. Won't that be so fun? I'd rather be anywhere but here.

Okay, I don't know if any of you will get this until you get back, but it's worth a shot. I will send a picture of my uniform. I will be your laughing stock once again.

Love you all,

Jules

"And this is your uniform," Louis, the manager, said to Jules a couple days later. They stood in the office room, where Jules had gone over everything from working the cash register to being polite to the guests. And now the dreaded part: uniforms. "Come one, Juliet, put it on," Louis said.

"The name is Jules," Jules said, frustrated, as she stuck on the visor and pulled the shirt on over her tank top. "There you go. Where am I working?"

"Oh, uh, you'll be doing register," Louis said casually.

Jules's jaw dropped. "What? This is my first day here!"

"And we're going to see if your natural! This way," he led her out of the room to register 5. Good thing the line wasn't busy, because if it had been, Jules would have had a heart attack. "Here. I'll log you in, and I think you can take it from here. There you go! And if you need any help, as Mr. David Fresner, he'll be happy to assist you. Good luck!" Louis bounded off, leaving Jules staring at the register, dumbfounded.

"Don't worry, I was like that when I was here for the first day," David Fresner said next to her. Jules looked at him. His blonde hair looked sexy hanging by his eyes, and his brown eyes looked deep and sensitive. She liked him already. Was it common to see a blonde haired brown eyed guy?

"How many years have you worked here?" Jules asked.

"Oh, this is my second week. I'm a senior, looking for some summer adventure," he replied. He looked at the man in front of him. "What can I get for you?"

"A number six, with a Diet Pepsi," the man replied.

Wow, he's a natural, Jules thought. She turned to the lady in front of her, and timidly said, "Hey, how's it going?"

"Good, thanks," the woman replied dully. She looked like the person who never ate at McDonald's. She's coming to celebrate my calling, Jules thought stupidly. "I will take a medium cheeseburger and a small drink," she said.

"Is that all?" I asked, ringing it up. She shook her head. "Your total is $2.89." She handed me a five, and I gave her back her change. I quickly loaded her tray, and she left without a single thank you.

"Not bad, Newbie," David said, filling up a tray. "I think McDonald's just might be your calling."