Diner Troubles
"Hey, guys," I say, approaching the girls cautiously. Macey is sat on the floor by her locker, viciously attacking the hair bobble tied around her wrist, while Bex looks like she's giving her a pep talk and Liz is helpfully offering a chocolate bar.
They swivel round at the sound of my voice. "Hey, Cammie," Macey mutters, ceasing the ruthless twanging of her bobble.
"Uh… what's going on?" I ask apprehensively. I feel like I'm imposing on their hospitality now – after all, it is only the first day and I'm only the new girl; I can't be going round asking about things which are clearly secret and clearly upsetting. "I mean… I understand if it's private. But you're okay?"
She nods absent-mindedly.
I glance towards Bex, who shrugs and promptly snatches the chocolate bar out of Macey's grasp. Macey lets out a cry of annoyance, which is naturally just ignored by Bex. Liz looks at me with an expression that seems to say 'just leave them to it.'
"That's it, Mace," she declares. "Quit dragging up stuff that happened ages ago – it's not healthy. And neither is this chocolate," she adds.
"Give me back my chocolate!" Macey exclaims.
"Nope."
"Bex, seriously."
"Na-ah," Bex replies in a sing-song voice, twirling it out of Macey's reach.
"Alright, fine!" Macey growls. She jumps to her feet, somehow still managing to look graceful, and glares at Bex. She holds out her hand expectantly, but is only met with a shake of the head and a reproving finger-wag.
"I think Cammie needs to know why you just went and ditched her in front of her other friends. Don't you?"
"Oh, no, it doesn't matter. I don't need to know," I say quickly. "I don't want to… intrude."
"No," Macey says. "She's right. I shouldn't have done that."
Liz looks on owlishly. "All joking aside, guys: Cammie should know anyway. Considering what, or should I say who, it's about."
Bex murmurs in agreement, and Macey gives a nod of assent. I feel curiosity sparking inside me as Liz gives a long sigh.
"Looks like it's story time again, Cammie."
"When I moved here, the first person I made friends with was Penelope. I was part of the Bitch Brigade, if you want to think of it that way. She was… nice to me, I guess. I didn't know anyone, and what could be better than the Queen Bee taking you under her wing. She knew all the boys, the parties, the things to be doing. So of course I wasn't going to object. I thought she was kind, I thought she was such a good friend – I was so wrong, I can't even tell you.
"She had home problems, stuff with her parents. She never really showed how much it affected her, apart from a couple of times – but when it got to her, it really got to her. She'd go to any and every party, get drunk to the point of passing out, get through so many boys even she would lose count; that was her way of coping, I guess. I didn't really question it – it wasn't my business, you know? I was just as horrible as her at times – worse, even. I'm definitely not proud of it. But then… she started going out with Zach."
She pauses for breath here, a dark look on her face; I look at her confusedly. What's wrong with her going out with Zach?
She notices my confused expression and grimaces, running a hand over her face to steel herself for something. "I had a crush on Zach," she finally says. My mouth makes a small 'O' of surprise. I was not expecting that.
"Inevitable, really, if you think about it. He always hung around with us, who'd be able to resist? No worries now though – I am so over that dumbass. He's just a friend." She says this in a reassuring tone, and I yet again get the feeling that she thinks I like Zach. She couldn't be more wrong.
"The thing is, Cammie, dearest Penny knew exactly about my embarrassing little crush. She told me she wouldn't tell anyone, she would never make a move on him – and I actually trusted her! I thought she'd keep my silly crush secret, that she'd honour the girl code. That didn't happen, obviously.
"We were at some party, and she just launched herself at him. Started eating his face off right in front of me. At first I thought it was somehow a mistake, but you really can't get any clearer than a full make-out session between your supposed best friend and your crush. I, of course, soon realised that she had the intention of snagging him for herself all along. What made it worse was the fact he knew. She'd told him, and god, was it embarrassing. He looked at me, pitiful and sympathetic, big green puppy eyes, and I know it wasn't his fault but I still remember wanting to punch his gorgeous face in."
I find myself nodding in understanding, fully appreciative of that feeling – I'd been on the receiving end of that look, too. And I also recognised that desire to punch him.
"'Course, I confronted her after. She laughed right in my face and said how Zach would never have me anyway. Load of shit about how she hated me, how I was stealing her friends away, stealing her little Zachy. It pretty much turned into a bitch fight – what do you expect when you have the two biggest bitches of the school? And then lo and behold, Macey McHenry was friendless. After that little back-stabbing fiasco, I was a little low. I've always moved around a lot, and the only time I thought I'd made an amazing friend – excluding present company – she turned out to hate me. Great, right?"
"That's when Liz and I swooped in with welcoming arms, allowed her to renounce her Bitch Brigade vows and she entered our awesome group," Bex adds smugly.
"That's awful, Macey," I say, shaking my head. "I'm actually convinced she's a member of a demon cult."
Macey laughs lightly, shaking her head. "To be honest, I'm over it. Just… her latching onto you like that, I felt like it was my fault, and then seeing Adam again… I kinda just remembered everything," she says apologetically.
I smiles reassuringly. "It is not your fault, Macey. Though there is one thing I don't get – actually, two things – why would seeing Adam make things worse? And aren't you all friends with Zach and his gang? How did that happen?"
Macey high cheekbones tinge pink, and she tucks her hair behind her ear. "Adam, well… Adam and I used to go out. We broke up because of Penelope, can you believe it – some story about him and Zach, and Penelope featured somewhere in the problem. He wouldn't tell me what it was, and sue me, but I was a little curious. What I found out about it wasn't too great though. And then he got the wrong end of the stick and thought I was doing stuff behind his back, which I wasn't. It wasn't a very healthy relationship, to be honest – I was still pretty much a bitch, and he was still angry over his fight with Zach. It's awkward between us, even now – we never really patched things up too well."
"What-what happened between Zach and Adam?" I ask, curiously. The mention of something between them reignites something in my memory: Adam telling me why I shouldn't get close to Zach. But I'm sure he said something about being bullied – nothing like the story I've just heard.
She shrugs apologetically. "I'd tell you if I could, Cam. But I don't even know myself. They won't talk about it, and asking either of them is like inviting a shark to bite your head off. All I got was from Tina Walters, you know, the editor of the gossip column in our school magazine – she said something about cheating. The typical stupid thing that everyone laps up because it's the latest juicy 'goss'," she says, and I can detect a trace of bitterness in her voice.
"Huh." I reflect. "And I thought girls were dramatic."
"That's Zach for you," Bex comments drily. "He's Grant's best friend, and I don't mind him too much myself. But boy, is he a pain in the arse."
"Got that right," I mutter gloomily.
xxxxx
I flop down unceremoniously on my bed, revelling in the softness of the mattress and the fluffiness of my comforter. It's… Friday!
Please refrain from bursting into song.
I flick my unfocused gaze up to the digital clock on my nightstand, and see that it's 17:37. I have my diner shift in twenty-three minutes. Just enough time to call my parents and have a quick shower. They were going to call on the first day, but they had so much work that we resorted to a few texts to and fro before they were called in for another stupid meeting. At least I didn't have to brush off the 'So how was it?' questions over the phone – mom would've have recognised my apparent lying voice before I'd even said 'Fine.' All it took was a happy emoji and mother was pleased. I couldn't contemplate even attempting to get into the lunchtime fiasco, and quite honestly, I would never tell her what happened anyway. At all. Ever. That embarrassment and mortification can be taken with me to the grave.
My phone starts ringing, as if on cue, and I pick up, glancing at the caller ID. As expected, it comes up with the photo I snapped of my parents when they weren't looking: dad's arms slung lazily over mom's shoulder, with matching grins and freckled (or in dad's case, kind of sunburnt) skin, and cheap 'I Heart Paris' hats perched on their heads – the standard tourists. Both of them were holding melting ice-creams, mom only just realising hers was steadily dripping onto her shoe. We'd gone to Paris, back when my parents weren't always swamped with work and we could actually go places.
I touch the green telephone icon and instantly hear a loud burst of noise from the other side, an odd mixture of loud television and beeping.
"Cammie!" she exclaims by way of greeting. "I'm so sorry we haven't been able to call!"
I smile at the sound of her voice. "It's okay, mom. You've had a lot to do. How're you and dad?"
"We're fine sweetheart – what about you? How's school? Have you made friends?"
"Mhm. I already told you when I messaged you, it's been really great." Even to my ears, this sounds far too bright and fake.
"Sure," she says, and I can just imagine the way she tilts her head and raises one eyebrow. "Now, tell me what's actually wrong."
I sigh. "Ugh. I don't know, mom..." I run a hand through my hair tiredly. "I just wish that I wasn't alone here, you know?" I finally say.
There's a crackle on the other end before she replies, probably from her switching the phone to her other ear. "Oh, honey. I'm sorry we can't be there with you." She sounds so sad that I feel bad for even bringing anything up.
"Don't be," I say genuinely. "But… you'll be home soon, right?"
"Of course," she says, hesitating slightly. Just by at slight pause, I know she is lying - but I don't let her know it. "Would you like to talk to dad?" she asks, her initial happiness a little dimmed.
"Yeah, sure," I say, trying to sound casual. I don't want her to realise how much it's disappointed me to realise they still won't be home soon. After a small pause and a few muffled words, I hear his voice.
"Hey, Cam. You been okay? Mom said you're finding it a little tough."
I roll my eyes; typical mom. "No, I am not finding it tough. I just miss you guys. It's so, well, I guess… sorta lonely."
"But you told us you'd made friends!"
"And I have. They're great. But being in this house all by myself - I can't even cook - isn't that easy, dad."
"I know," he says, and I know that if he was here, he'd ruffle my hair and give me the smile he only reserves for me. "But you know what? I know you'll settle in just fine in a matter of days. Go on that Internet you're always on and find some recipes. You work in a diner don't you? Ask someone there!"
"I will," I say, feeling a little better. "Hey, what's that beeping noise?" I ask curiously, referring to the noise in the background that is still going on.
"Oh, that. Your mom left something in the microwave too long, some sort of pasta ready-meal I think, It's smoking everywhere and the kitchen stinks. Be glad you can't smell it," he laughs. "Between you and me, your mom is a terrible cook," he whispers.
"And I wonder why I'm so bad at it," I grumble good-naturedly.
"I can hear you, Matthew!" I hear mom's muffled shout from the other end of the line. "You'll regret that, dear."
"Yeah, yeah," dad says innocently. He pauses for a second before mumbling something.
"Sorry, what? I didn't hear you, Daddy."
"Any… boys I should know of?" he asks again, rather gruffly.
"Daddy, please," I reply, torn between embarrassment and amusement. "You know the answer to that question." In the background, I hear an exasperated 'Matthew'. He seems to take the phone away from his ear and replies, saying something about 'just checking' and 'where's the harm in that' before coming back on.
"That was your mom. Sorry 'bout that." She thinks I'm being 'unnecessarily nosey'," he imitates, putting on a high voice. I hear mom retort in the background yet again, and smile to myself. I don't think I realised how quiet everything is when I'm on my own.
"Oh, dad," I say quickly, glancing at the clock. "I'll call you soon, okay? I've got to go to work, it's at six."
"Alright, Cammie. Call us if you need anything. Enjoy!" Mom calls out bye too and I shout it back before hanging up, a little reluctantly.
I hunt around my wardrobe for the diner uniform and then hurriedly pull it on – I don't have time for a shower. I scoop my hair up into a bun, not stopping to look in the mirror as I quickly tie the laces on my scuffed white Converse and run out the door. Yet again, I've managed to cut it very close, as I open the diner door at exactly 5:59. A warm blast of air hits me, scented with fresh cooking and embellished with the ever-present sixties music. I pass Arnold on the way into the kitchens, yelling out a quick hello. I just register that the place is full to bursting, with the chatter and clanking of plates reaching an all-time high before I close the kitchen doors behind me and am met with a different kind of chaos.
As I make my way towards my workplace, I think morosely how on the other side of those doors, people from my school will be enjoying the end of the week, partying or coming here with their friends. I, on the other hand, am stuck cooking for them, and bearing in mind how I can't even cook well... Let's just hope there's nobody I know.
A waitress quickly drops a hastily scribbled order on my worktop, a girl by the name of Blue. I recognise her as the purple-haired girl who was sat with Michaela and Adam during that lunchtime, and give her a tentative smile. She gives me a wan one in return.
"Good luck with that order – Arnold said you had to deliver it to the table."
"Why?" I ask, alarmed. "Why do I have to deliver it? Isn't there anyone else? I thought I was just cooking today."
She jerks her head toward the door. "See for yourself," she says, almost pityingly. "Table Eleven."
I go back to the doors and stand on my tip-toes, peering apprehensively through the small glass windows on them. I have to crane my neck sideways to catch a glimpse of table eleven; when I see it, cold dread curls in my stomach.
It's her.
Her.
The she-demon.
The crazy cow.
Penelope.
"Is this a joke?" I whisper to myself, aghast.
Blue comes up behind me and pats my shoulder. "It was nice knowing you."
"But-but… can't you take the order to them?"
"Trust me," she frowns. "I want to help you, and I would, but Arnold has me on that kiddies table over there." She points grimly towards the far corner of the diner, where two tables have been put together and are currently accommodating eight hyperactive children. One of them, a boy with brilliantly ginger hair and a large 'I'm Six Years Old Today!' badge on his front, is climbing on his chair and yodelling loudly at the top of his voice. His mother, a woman in her early-thirties with her hair scraped back into a chignon and wearing a pristine salmon-pink evening dress, sits primly on the edge of her chair, smiling at her son proudly.
"I just gotta smile," she says to herself, breathing deeply. "Otherwise, I don't know if I'll slap the woman, the kid or myself."
As I watch my last, vibrant-haired hope walk away from me, I let out a groan of despair. What am I going to do? I haven't had any contact with Penelope, Zach, or their respective groups since my first day and the luncheon disaster. I can't count on anything going smoothly, but I have to try. I'll make their food, walk out calmly and place their orders in front of them, keep my head down and then get the hell away before they can say a thing.
Easy, right?
Wrong.
As I run through the orders they placed, a familiar feeling of despair I associate with cooking descends upon me. Penelope and Co. are alright, just three salads with no mayo, no dressing, just rabbit food and a smattering of salmon. I'm pretty sure I can do that. But the guys? Please, no. Four burgers with deluxe fries. Two steaks. One hot dog.
Seeing as my last three shifts were just serving people rather than taking over the actual cooking, my culinary skills are rusty. I've been living off soup and pizza takeaways and the occasional pasta concoction for the few weeks I've spent here; why did I have to inherit my mother's abysmal cooking abilities?
I take a calming breath and decide to think things through methodically. Right: steaks, I can do. Or so I think. I can just about recall how Zach made them. And burgers… well, burgers can't be that hard – the patties are already made, all I need to do is grill them and bung them in between two round pieces of bread, put some ketchup and cheese and lettuce inside, and there we have it. And a hot dog is a hot dog, nothing fancy on one of those.
Okay. I think I'm set.
I start off grilling the meat patties. While they're cooking, I decide I may as well make a start on the hot dog. I peel the sausage out of the packet it's in, and stare at the squidgy pink meat, thinking how I have to cook it. I eventually settle on putting it in the oven – can't go wrong with that. The single sausage on the tray makes for a very sorry sight. After that, I put the steaks in the oven as well, so they can slow cook while I make everything else.
Next, I make the salads. I put some lettuce in three separate bowls, cut up some cucumbers, tomatoes and olives, and then get some salmon which somebody has already pre-prepared out of the massive fridge. I shred the salmon on top and reach for the French dressing, adding it liberally to the first bowl.
And then I freeze.
Damn it. I hesitantly reach for the order note I discarded earlier, and read the salad orders. No dressing. It says no dressing, Cammie, you stupid idiot. So why did you put it in?
I realise that the fact I am now referring to myself in the third person isn't such a great thing, so I stare accusingly at the dressing which innocently adorns the plain looking salad. I set my jaw and then take a spoon, siphoning off the offending liquid. Once I've managed to eradicate most of it, I toss the salad around a little and add some more lettuce to cover the remainders. It doesn't look noticeable at all so I close my eyes for a second and inhale deeply, trying to calm my kitchen nerves.
A horrible smell assaults my nose. My eyes fly open, and I let out a noise which is an odd mix between wail and groan.
The freaking burgers!
I rush toward the now burning bits of meat on the cooker. I fumble around the knobs, finally finding the right one to switch off the gas. I wipe my forehead on my sleeve, almost in awe of my terrible cooking skills. How the hell did I manage to forget about the burgers? The poor things now resemble charred, black lumps, with the odd brown meaty bit speckled here and there.
"Ugh," I scowl.
I check my watch and see that it's been almost half an hour since the order came in, which only serves to make me more agitated. I grab four burger buns and plonk the burnt meat between each one, adding half a bottle of ketchup, a thick slice of cheese and practically the whole lettuce on each. I get the sausage out and nestle it between its buns, giving it the same sauce treatment. I pull the steaks out the oven and check that they're cooked, before putting them onto plates and throwing on some sauces and salad. It looks quite pitiful.
Then, I arrange the plates on a tray and steel myself for the next five to ten minutes.
Here goes nothing.
I carefully open the doors with my hip and manoeuvre myself out. The tray shifts precariously but everything stays in its place as I make my way towards their table. My arms begin to ache but I hold on. As I approach them, no one looks up. Penelope is cosied up to Zach, giggling and whispering, while he plays with her hair. Her two besties sit opposite, both of them on their huge phones, probably scrolling through their Twitter feed. Jonas and Preston are having an intense discussion about something, Jonas' face noticeabley pink, and I feel I can definitely guess what it might be about. The twin I think has to be James is laughing about something with Nick and Grant, while Callum, the serious twin, looks on over the whole table with a solemn look on his face. I awkwardly clear my throat to make my presence known, making sure my eyes are on the floor or at least, nowhere near Penelope or Zach.
I get the slip of paper and read out the orders in an embarrassingly small voice. "Hot dog?" I ask. Callum nods his head and I somehow get it off the tray and in front of him. He looks up at me, recognition evident on his face, but thankfully, he doesn't anything other than a quickly mumbled 'thanks'.
"Uh, burgers?"
"That's us," James says, gesturing towards himself, Nick, Zach and Grant. I place the plates on front of them, keeping my face lowered. I catch him opening his mouth to say something when he sees my face properly, but before any noise comes out, he gives a flinch of pain and glares accusingly at Zach, who shrugs innocently. I can see the boys looking at the burgers with odd looks on their faces, and as Nick peels back the bun on his, his mouth opens in surprise. He looks up to see me looking at him, and then gives an awkward look and says, way too brightly, "This looks great! I'm starving!"
My face warms up instantly, and I feel the colour rising on my cheeks as I survey the horrid burgers. Penelope lets out a derisive snort, but Zach and the boys don't say a word. What is going on? Choosing to ignore the awkwardness around me, I place the steaks in front of Jonas and Preston, and proceed to the most terrifying task of all.
The salads.
I can remember the girls' names now: Cara and Isabelle. They're still looking at their phones so I get away with them easily, but the real problem is Penelope. She is uncharacteristically quiet, but when I raise my eyes, I see a spectacular glare pointed my way. I gently put the salad in front of her. She pushes it away from her, and flicks her still perfect nails against the bowl once.
"What is that supposed to be?" she says, her nose turned up. "I will not eat that."
I grip the tray tightly in my hands, my knuckles white. Nothing can go right for me this fine evening, can it?
"I can take it away and make a new one, if you like," I say out of gritted teeth.
She scowls at me, somehow doing it prettily; she begins to open her mouth, but her voice is not the one that sounds.
"No, the salad's fine, isn't it Penny?" Zach says firmly, grabbing hold of her arm and giving her a hard look. "It is perfectly fine," he assures me, his eyes trained on mine, an earnest look on his face. "We're okay here. Thanks," his voice so smooth it's as if he's daring the others to make any objections. The boys nod in agreement, some of them a little too enthusiastically. They're looking at me expectantly, as if they expect me to say something or give them something else, but I have no idea what they want so I just stand there for a few seconds before replying.
"Okay," I say slowly. My heart seemed to start hammering inside my ribs the moment Zach looked up, my nerves and awkwardness getting the better of me. All this male attention is not doing good things to my stomach. "Um… Enjoy your meal, then." Even as I say it, I wince. That was not the best thing to say to the people who are about to eat your terrible cooking. Although, I can't say I feel bad about Penelope.
Grant gives Zach a confused look, pointing at his plate, who in return gives a shake of his head. Grant shrugs, looking at his shrivelled burger with a forlorn expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Jonas poking his steak suspiciously and have the strong urge to laugh.
I turn to go, my cheeks bright. When I'm almost, but not quite, out of earshot, I hear a small, irritated exchange between Penelope and Zach.
"I am not eating this. Why did you say we couldn't say anything about the cooking?"
"Just eat the bloody salad and shut up, alright?" he says impatiently. I don't miss how he evades the question, and for some absurd reason, this makes me smile.
It's not until I'm safely in the kitchen that I realise something: I forgot the fries.
A/N Thank you for reading! I am very sorry for the late update, but I think this chapter is pretty long, so I hope that makes up for it! I really enjoyed writing this chapter! We get to see a bit of what went down between Zach and Adam, as well as why Macey was upset last chapter. What are your opinions of her and Adam's past? And all the backstory stuff? I'd love to know what you think. Please leave a review if you have time, and have a lovely rest of the week!
BooksLover2000: Same here!
childofhecate: I hope that this time, your curiosity about Macey was satisfied!
gabergirl: Thank you! Honestly, me neither. I have no idea why I decided she should call her a crazy cow, but alas, she did.
Selena: Thank you! Ah, you guessed it! Drama galore amiright? Ha, not really. Hope you liked this!
Guest: Thank you! It makes me laugh will, don't you worry. I love Nick and James!
LifeIsGoode: THANK YOU SO MUCH! I'm just evil, muahaha. Zach is being a little jerky boy, but I think he was sorta okay this chapter. What did you think? Hehe, yes, they were shocked. And dramaaaa, yas, the Bitch Brigade shall cause a helluva lot of THAT. Thank you for your review! hope you liked this chapter.
HippieGuru: Aloha! Wassup? I really want to try this rhyming thing but I seriously cannot rhyme. Haha, Penny is a little evil... Agh, I do not like her at all. Zach needs to man up, you're right! I hope you liked this chappie! Thank you so much! And ooh, Australia! That's so cool. I find that so cool XD I'd love to go there *that emoji with the blue forehead and arms to its face which looks all shocked and excited depending on the situation*
lovewords: This review was AMAZING. Thank you so much! I love your reviews, they are literally so lovely, and they make me laugh every time: 'HOLDING THAT PIG'S HAND'. Absolutely pricless and true. Penny and Alana need to jump off a cliff, yes, that's like, perfect. Your review was so long too! I'm so glad you like my story, and gosh, I agree, Zach is being as annoyingly jerky as hell. Macey, muahaha, so much stuff has happened in le past, sometimes I'm just like woah, drama or what? Hehe. Adam and Michaela do rock *sassy pink person with arm out emoji* I find it funny how the purple-haired friend is called Blue. I don't know why, I just find it funny haha. I hope you liked this chapter! And I can't wait to start my new idea either! I also agree Cammie needs to make Zach jealous... Who knows, that may already be happening sometime in the future ;)
medievalmidnight: Thank you! I have no idea how I came up with something so weird and mortifying! Just to clarify, it hasn't happened to me before or anything. Just so you know. It was just a very random thing I wanted to happen!