The diner sat in the middle of the college and high school, which made for periods where we were rushed off our feet. The most popular time was when the high school would get out on a Friday. Apparently, there was something about Fridays that made all the students want milkshakes and fries. Life here was drastically different from home, and yet, I was only an hour away. These kids didn’t know the hardship of growing up where I did. All that mattered was if they made their grades and what four-year college they could get into.
“Yep.” I nodded, moved behind the counter, and pushed through the open door. The staff quarters was one room with a wall of lockers, a small table, and a sink. I yanked my jacket off and stuffed it in my locker along with my bag and pulled out my uniform, which consisted of a red dress and black apron. Once I was ready, I tied my brown hair into a messy bun at the base of my neck and ushered myself into the bustling diner.
Jan and I made quick work of taking everyone’s orders and passed them through to Sal—the owner and cook—and the other cook in the kitchen behind the counter. The pass that separated the two areas was soon filled with plates upon plates of fries, and we couldn’t get them out fast enough.
There was one thing other than money that this job offered me: a reprieve from my life. While I was here serving customers, I didn’t have to think about what I was going home to. All I thought about was the next order and whose table it was going to.
By the time most of the kids had gone, the darkness had taken over outside. Jan clocked out just after nine so she could get home to her eight-year-old daughter, Aria, and left Sal and me until midnight when we’d close.
“Here you go, Lola-Girl,” Sal’s deep voice announced from behind me. He placed a burger and fries on the counter that I was wiping down. “Get that food down you.”
I wanted to tell him I was fine, but my grumbling stomach wouldn’t allow me, so instead, I sat on one of the stools and took a bite of the burger. “Thank you,” I mumbled as I chewed the juicy meat and bun.
He inclined his head, ran his large hand over the grease-stained apron that covered his slightly rounded stomach, and pulled out a pack of smokes. “I’m heading outside for five.”
I nodded and took another bite of the burger, closing my eyes briefly and relishing in it. It was the calm after the storm, and soon we’d have drunk college students coming in for their Friday night snack. I estimated we had about an hour before that happened, and I’d use it to my advantage.
I pulled my little pad out of my apron and placed it next to my plate. I needed to brainstorm ideas on how to get out of that house quicker. Things were getting worse, and I’d be damned if I’d end up being one of those girls—the kind who let someone else tell them who they were and what they could do.
A smile curved on my lips. I was sure I got my determination from my mom because Dad never gave a shit about bettering himself. All he ever cared about was where his next fix and meal was coming from. I had to remind myself that he hadn’t always been like that because the memories of when I was a little girl and lived in a loving family home were getting farther and farther away. They were getting harder to latch on to and replay in my mind, but the morning of my eighth birthday wouldn’t ever leave me. Pancakes and presents with my mom and dad watching me from the opposite side of the table with huge grins on their faces were etched into my mind like a scar. I lived for the memories stored away in my brain, desperate to make new ones that were just as happy.
“Looks like you’re thinking pretty hard there, Lola-Girl,” Sal said from behind me.
I jumped on the stool, my heart galloping in my chest. “Crap, Sal. You scared the shit out of me.”
His huge grin lifted his chubby cheeks and showcased his crooked front tooth. “Gotta keep you young’uns on your toes some way, huh?”
“Yeah, well”—I shook my head—“you almost gave me a heart attack.”
I spun back around on the stool, picking at the crispy fries that were left on my plate. Sal’s whistling became the soundtrack in the practically empty diner as I struggled to find ideas. If I didn’t care how I made money, then I knew I could be out of that house quicker, but that would defeat the purpose. I wanted out from under all the seedy things that were happening right under my nose, not to get further into it. And I had a feeling that if I took one step in with Hut, he really would never let me go.
“Plotting how to take over the world?”
I lifted my head and focused my attention on Sal, who now stood on the other side of the counter, wiping down the pass. “Something like that,” I murmured, scribbling a square on the corner of the page. “I need to make more money.” I paused, debating whether I should ask or not. “Do you have any extra hours?”
Sal leaned his forearms on the counter, his dark-blue-eyed gaze not moving off my face. “What do you need more money for?”
I glanced away. “I want to move out.”
“Hmm.” Sal was silent for a second, and when I looked back at him, he was scanning the page I’d written on. “I don’t have any extra hours to give you, but you could do this one.” He tapped his finger next to the word “tutoring.”
“I could, but…” I sighed, hating that I was being a defeatist. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Well, your first step would be to make a flyer.” Sal stood to his full height and raised a brow. “You can hang it up in here.”
I blinked. Maybe he was onto something? We always had high school students coming in here, tonight was proof of that, and even if only one of them needed tutoring, it would help me out.
“You could use the back room too if you wanted.”
My nose burned, my eyes welling up. “Why?” I croaked out. “Why would you do that for me?”
Sal stared, but his gaze flicked over my shoulder, his eyes glazing over. He was quiet for so long that I wondered if he’d forgotten I was even there. “Because sometimes you just need a hand to help you.” He shook his head and pushed his hand through his ink-black hair. “I was like you, Lola-Girl. I wanted to get out, and I did just that, but not without someone giving me a helping hand first.”
“I—”
He shook his head. “Make the flyer.” He turned around and walked into the kitchen, leaving me speechless and alone.
I was getting somewhere. Now all I needed was a plan of action, and planning was what I did best.