Hahas. Thanks to those who reviewed the previous story, namely Lacto3.1415 and HiBob. I guess it is true that Malcolm's family is integral in MITM but I may not be able to focus too much on them since Malcolm is in Harvard and they are back at home. I will try to mention them throughout the fics though not all in one. The reason that I made this series of one shots and not an entire story by itself is because it will allow me to focus on his daily trials, a different one each time, instead of an all enveloping plot or problem which will over shadow his struggles. Remember, he wants to be President.

Now that you have endured my yap, please enjoy the following fic.

Malcolm stared in shock at the letter that Mr. Ramsey, his supervisor, had handed him a few hours ago. The letter succinctly and brutally informed the person it was addressed to, which in this case was Malcolm, that he had been relieved of his employment as an assistant janitor due to budget cuts being conducted by the administration.

They can't do this to me! I'm the smartest janitor they've got!

Malcolm was alone in his dorm, with Freddy having classes in the afternoon. It took all of his self-restraint to prevent him from kicking the door, the bed, Freddy's bed and every other furniture in the room. The certainty of having to replace everything with his own cash also helped.

Okay Malcolm, think. Maybe this isn't such a bad thing after all. I bet people will stop giving you weird looks every time you clean the female toilets. Like you're a perv or something. You won't have to miss the first ten minutes of calc because someone barfed in the dining hall. You won't have to even concern yourself when the wastepaper baskets are full.

Malcolm realized his fingers were shaking and had to force himself to breathe. He read the remaining of the letter out loud, "… will be required to return all keys and other items entrusted to said employee that belongs to the administration. This must be done by the 10th of this month…"

That's the end of this week.

"…will take into affect on the same date. Due to the failure of the administration in notifying the employee of this dismissal at least three weeks prior, the contract signed by all employees of the Harvard College Administration entitles him to three months worth of salary. Please collect the check from the…"

Three months worth of pay? At least that gives me time to look for another job. I can't believe I have to give up my keys. That's the only plus I had from being an assistant janitor. Other than a locker the size of a broom cupboard that I will also have to 'return'. Several broom cupboards actually. Damn.

Malcolm stared dejectedly at the offending piece of paper in his hands. He had not expected this, at least not so soon. And the feelings the letter is inspiring is, at best, surprising.

And WHY am I so upset?

He always pictured himself as happy when fired from being an assistant janitor. He would have the perfect excuse to find another, more respectable job that does not require him to embarrass himself in front of the other students. Not that Lois had anything to do with it.

She'll flay me alive when she finds out. And I'll never get to hear the end of it from Reese. He LOVES being a janitor. And...it's only been three monthes.

Only now did Malcolm realize how being a janitor had become a large part of his first three months of attending college. He became startled at the idea that he was going to miss waking up earlier than everyone else to unlock the facilities or having to rush from restroom cleaning duty to his tutorials. He even thought it gave him a connection to Reese.

I can't be THAT pathetic.

Tossing the letter aside, Malcolm slumped onto his bed, sighing. He will have to get another job. Either that or he would have to look for apartments cheaper than the dorms at Harvard, which will cost him to some money but lesser than if he moved out later.

Maybe Freddy can get me job at that café he works in. Wait, I won't be able to work on weekdays and my weekends are already taken by the job at the bookshop. I'll need to get one that allow me to stay in campus and flexible enough to allow me to still attend classes. The pay cannot be lesser than what I made as a janitor AND shouldn't be too draining. Ugh.
Malcolm shivered against a chilly morning wind that was blowing in the Harvard Square where he worked in one of the bookshops. He had decided to work longer hours, starting earlier and ending later, to take full advantage of the shop's policy of paying by the number of hours he worked.

At least until I get another job. I can't believe they refused my application as an assistant groundskeeper. I have mowed the worst-kept lawn in the history of this country and they dare say I was lacking in experience. Can you believe it? How much experience does it take to mow flat patches of grass that doesn't need mowing in the first place?

Stopping for a coffee at one of the cafes nearby, Malcolm did a double take on one of the waitresses in the café.

Laura? Perfect skin, perfect height, perfect grades and oh so perfect Laura?

Puzzled as to why the daughter of, he heard, a bureaucrat is working as a waitress in a café, Malcolm opened his mouth to call to for her before stopping himself.

What do I say without sounding like I'm invading her privacy? Maybe I shouldn't say anything. Besides, I'll only end up embarrassing myself. Better get out of here.

Too late. Just as Malcolm was about to exit the café, Laura looked up from cleaning tables and saw him. Her eyes widened and she dropped the cloth she was holding.

"Malcolm!" she squeaked, as if unable to find her voice, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh…umm…I was just…just getting a cup…I mean coffee. Yeah. A cup of coffee," Malcolm stuttered back, facing the floor.

Wow. A cup of coffee. Way to go Malcolm.

Malcolm looked up. They stared at each other for what seemed like minutes before Malcolm coughed. Then the dam broke.

"WellifyouwantcoffeeIcangetyou…err...whatever you want," gushed Laura. She then took a deep breath and began to talk in a more understandable pace, "We have espresso, latte, cappuccino and many more. Of course you can add Irish cream or caramel or…whatever you want. I recommend you try our mocha special. We have our very own unique recipe which is very…urm…secret but very cute. Imeangood," Laura blushed but recovered and continued to give Malcolm a very detailed introduction into the café's menu by means of incessant babbling. As she went on, beads of sweat began to appear on her forehead. Both their foreheads.

"I'll just have coffee thanks. Grande. Urm…with cream and sugar," Malcolm interrupted, uncertainty clouding his face, finding it hard to believe that Laura…

THE Laura Higgins.

… was paying attention to him.

Laura, on the other hand, smiled happily though her face was still reminiscent of a tomato.

"To go?"

"Yeah."

She took a few steps towards the counter, stopped, turned back sharply towards Malcolm, picked up the cloth she dropped from the floor, smiled again and promptly vanished into a door at the back of the small shop. Malcolm stared at the door before moving towards the counter to pay for his order.

"Don't mind Laura," said the matronly woman behind the counter, " its only her second day here."

"Really? She seem to know her stuff pretty well," offered Malcolm, hoping that he hadn't cost Laura her job.

"Well she is bright, I'll give you that. Though her manners could do with some adjustments. Anyway, it'll be three bucks. Would you like a muffin to go along?"

"Nah. Thanks anyway."

The woman nodded and gave a quick smile before turning to the next customer.

Laura came back a few minutes later, during which Malcolm had memorised the address, menu and the operating hours of the cafe.

"Here's your coffee," squeaked Laura, walking towards Malcolm from the door to the back. Her voice seemed to have been lost again in the process of making Malcolm's coffee.

Malcolm took the cup given to him.

"Thanks. The coffee's great," he mumbled before dashing out of the café without looking back.

The coffee's great? You haven't even taste it yet you moron. Way to go Malcolm.

"Come again!" Laura cried from the entrance.

Malcolm turned and waved before hurrying in the direction of his bookstore.

After Malcolm disappeared from sight, Laura muttered to herself, "Way to go, Laura," before getting back to work.

Malcolm walked into the bookstore and straight to the room at the back labelled 'Employees Only'.

"Hey Malcolm," greeted a dark skinned, dark haired and dark eyed boy his age who was unpacking several boxes which Malcolm thought must be the latest arrivals in the store.

"Morning," Malcolm replied.

This is Lashman Prasad Kumar. His family came all the way from India so that his father can open a a restaurant. Looking at him makes me glad I have four other brothers. Lakshman has six. And two sisters as well. And his Grandmother sounds just as horrible as mine even though he claims she makes the best mango chutney and chicken curry in the country.

"The new orders arrived this morning. Chuck said to tell you to mind the store. He's got some errands to run so he'll only be back when your shift is over. I'm gonna have to sort this out," Lakshman glanced at the pile of boxes stacked in the corner, "and get me another scissors will ya? This one's no good."

Chuck's my boss.

"Sure," Malcolm said, hanging his coat on the rack behind the door before opening a drawer on the table to look for a spare scissors.

Handing Lakshman the scissors, Malcolm went back into the store. He checked that all the books are arranged neatly and in the correct sections. He made sure the books in the display case were the correct ones. After that, he checked the cash register and finally flipped the sign on the door that read 'Open'.

Only then did he take a seat behind the counter and watched as people walked past the shop. Sighing, he took out the accounts ledger book from the drawer under the table and began check through the accounts, a task delegated to him when Chuck found out that he was especially good with numbers. He took a sip from the coffee he bought this morning, cringing slightly at the thought of Laura. Then he stopped. A smile began to form on his lips.

Books are safe. They do not stick to your shoes and they do not need to be washed or cleaned other than the occasional dusting. They need to be sorted out in sections and labled accordingly. Then they need to be arranged, preferably in alphabetical order. The environment is perfect for studying. Plus, people, in Harvard at least, hold a certain dgree of respect for those who spend time in a library. And Laura loves books.

Malcolm cheered up at the thought of a possible new job to replace his janitorial duties. Then he frowned.

More work...and I'm HAPPY about it. What is happening to me?

There it is folks. A continuation of sorts to the previous fic. Please let me know if you are happy with the direction this fic appears to be moving in. Malcolm's family will be making an appearance soon I promise. In the meantime, please let me know what you think by reviewing. I know people are reading……don't make me set Dewey on you. ;P