Second chapter. Yayyyayyayyaaayyy. (:

Haha. Enjoy. :p

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Click. She hung up.

-

[Blair's POV]

My life was officially over.

Seriously—I was failing every subject except Social Studies. So Logan and Kayla weren't my biological parents—that wouldn't stop them from kicking my ass.

What was I going to tell them when they received my report card? "Oh, I've been suffering from emotional trauma since last summer—it makes it very hard to concentrate." Ha! Like they'd seriously buy that load of garbage.

Or maybe I could…er, tell them that Meghan Davis was really grinding on my nerves, making my emotions do flips and twists—blowing my concentration.

Nah. Too "sob story-ish". They'd never believe me.

Of course, that wouldn't be entirely a lie. Meghan Davis did torment me. And she did, on occasion, blow my concentration in class. It was rather hard to focus on a test or quiz with Meghan whispering in my ear, "So—Blair—what's it like being an orphan? I've always imagined that it's like being an item at a Thrift Shop—your first owners get done with you, dump you somewhere, and you wait around until another owner comes and buys you."

Sure, her insults weren't the best plotted or thought-out—but they still stung a little bit. She didn't know that my whole family had been murdered—which was the only factor that contributed to my becoming an orphan.

But, I knew inside, no matter how hard my brain tried to trick me, that Logan and Kayla weren't gullible enough to think that a few harsh words from a brat had thrown off all of my grades.

So what was I—

A loud knocking sound echoed from my door, and I flinched instinctively. "Uhmm—yeah?" I said nervously.

"Blair?" It was Kayla.

"What's up?" I called.

"Logan wants to know what plans you have with Danny tomorrow."

I snickered automatically after Kayla's simple words.

I had become accustomed to sneaking out every Saturday afternoon to go out with Danny. I'd gotten away with it without being noticed for two weeks—then Logan had caught on. After all, I couldn't keep up that "I'm-going-to-a-study-group" excuse every week—especially not when you saw my horrid grades.

So, naturally, Logan had kept trying to stop me from meeting Danny—but he'd failed miserably. I always managed to slip through his fingers. I'd become far more clever and stealthy in the past nine months.

Fortunately for me, Logan had given up after a few months of trying to forbid me from seeing Danny alone. Now he simply had Kayla ask me every Friday night what me and Danny had planned for the following afternoon, and I was always pleased to reply.

But this Saturday was different.

"No fancy plans this weekend, Kayla," I said lightly, "Danny's Dad owns a restaurant—and he's been nice enough to offer me a job as a junior hostess, despite my age."

"Oh." Kayla's voice perked up. She didn't mind Danny, but she probably received a lot of pouting from Logan whenever she told him our plans.

I heard Kayla disappear down the hall, the floor creaking under her feet as she went.

But after a few minutes, Logan appeared at my door, prying it open.

"You are such a liar," he snorted automatically.

"Ha!" I laughed humorlessly. "You're so…untrusting, Logan." I hesitated. "I'm not lying."

"Oh really?" Logan challenged, "no plans this weekend? A job opportunity? At fourteen? At a restaurant?"

"Is that so hard to comprehend?" I said mockingly.

"Don't be smart, Blair," Logan snarled. "Seriously—a job opportunity? Why would Danny's Dad offer you a job? I thought he hated you?"

I shook my head crisply. "No," I groaned, "that's Danny's Mom. His Dad happens to like me—he thinks I'm good for Danny." When Logan seemed to be confused, I added quickly, "Danny's parents are separated, Logan. He lives with his Dad on the weekends—and his Mom on the weekdays."

Now he seemed to be getting it.

"Oh…," he said. He seemed to trust my explanation now. "Fine, I'll take your word for it," he agreed unwillingly, "but you'd better not be lying."

I happily placed my hand over my heart, drew a metaphorical cross where it was placed inside my chest, and said sincerely, "I swear to God I'm not, Logan."

Logan, finally taking my word seriously, nodded and trudged out of my room.

"Ugh…stupid weasel…." I worshipped the day in school I'd learned that wolverines were apart of the weasel family—not the wolf family. It had given me a fresh new insult to use against Logan—that was amusing—yet still infuriatingly annoying at the same time.

Absently, I trotted over to my windows and closed the shades, blocking out the too-bright outdoor sunlight. My eyes seemed to trail over to my clock after I was finished, and it told me that it was only 7:30, but I didn't care—I was beat. And I had a big day tomorrow. Danny's Dad—Mr. Fisher—was going to teach me everything about being a junior hostess. Danny already worked at his Dad's restaurant. He didn't have a specified job—he basically did whatever was needed at the spur of the moment. But I was going to greet people as they entered the restaurant. Oh yeah, and I was being paid seven dollars an hour—Danny didn't get squat.

As I changed into my night clothes, my thoughts became jumbled blurs in my mind. I was ready to sleep indefinitely, and as soon as I slid under the warm, comforting blanket of my bed, slumber overtook me, and I was out cold.

The Next Day

[Third Person]

"So this is your dad's restaurant?" Blair asked curiously, as Danny placed his arm around her shoulder and they stalked towards a small diner—which was conveniently named, Dan's Diner.

"Yep," Danny said brightly.

"And he named it after you?" Blair replied, scanning her eyes over the bright, dazzling neon lights that formed the words—Dan's Diner.

Danny laughed out loud. "Oh no," he said, amused, "my dad's name is Daniel, too—hence the name, Dan's Diner. I'm named after him."

"Oh," Blair mumbled absently. She and Danny entered the Diner, hand-in-hand, and immediately noticed Danny's father.

"Mr. Fisher!" Blair called, strutting across the dinner, rushing Danny with her. "It's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you again too, Blair," Mr. Fisher replied, sounding mildly friendly. "Now—Danny tells me you're interested in that junior hostess opportunity I offered."

"Absolutely," Blair assured perkily. "I'd love it, Mr. Fisher. It's really nice of you to offer me a job."

"It's no trouble at all," Mr. Fisher said, "a friend of Danny's is a friend of mine. Now—let me just explain the roots of the job."

For the next two hours, Mr. Fisher rushed Blair around Dan's Diner, showing her the arrangement of the restaurant.

After those two endless hours, her told her about the job position. He said that her job was to simply greet customers and bring them to their tables.

And he made it very clear and distinct that, no matter how much trouble a customer gives her, they should always get what they want in the end.

"If they request something that is related to the restaurant and is not forbidden by store policy," Mr. Fisher began patiently, wiping the sweat off of his forehead, "it should be doable. Your main goal is to keep the customer happy, Blair. That's the business of hostesses and waitresses."

After four long hours of training, Blair was put to work. She now understood her position entirely, and she waited at the front of the restaurant, greeting customers and bringing them to their tables.

Some of the customers gave her dirty yet peculiar looks as they entered. Their expression usually read; why the hell is a fourteen-year-old working here? But Blair ignored the looks, kept a smile plastered onto her face, and thanked God as soon as they were seated at their tables and no longer her responsibility.

However, something unusual happened when Blair was busy with her forty-seventh customer.

"Hello, welcome to Dan's Diner, how many?" Blair asked politely, glancing up at the customers. She noticed automatically that they were frantic-looking cops, and realized that they weren't here to eat. "Uhm…can I help you, officers?"

The bulky, heavily mustached male cop looked at her sternly, and snapped, "Hello, I'm Officer Smith, and we're stopping at businesses across Canada and the USA looking for a runaway orphan. She's been missing for nine months now, and if you have any information on her whereabouts, we'd like to know."

The slender, mousy haired female cop next to him rolled her eyes and said, "Excuse me, miss, we'd like to see the owner of this establishment."

"Yes, of course," Blair said curiously. "But…uhm…I'm just curious…do you have a picture of said orphan?"

"Yes," the female cop responded. She then held up a piece of dirty, torn paper, and brought it close to Blair's face. "The runaways name is Kira Chloe, she's fourteen years old, and she looks like this."

Blair's mouth simply fell open.

--

Ah, sorry that chapter was baddd. xP

I was rushing to finish this up, because I might not be able to post until next Wednesday—I'm going on vacation soon.

So, like I say whenever I think my chapters are bad, "Enjoy it for what it is."

AND REVIEW. :p

PS: Do you like the story better in first person, or third person? :PP