Sloppy Firsts_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [54]
I realized that working at Wally D’s Sweet Treat Shoppe is probably the worst job I’ll ever have. I know I have a bright future ahead of me. But instead of feeling happy about my good fortune, I just felt guilty.
When I went back behind the counter at frozen custard central, I couldn’t even engage in my favorite work diversion: making fun of all the customers, the first of which was primo making-fun-of material. If Scotty needs a Gut Buster, this man required a Whole Body Buster. He really pushed the limits of his dishwater-dirty wife-beater T-shirt. When he pounded the counter to get my attention, the pudding flesh on his arm shook, making the tattoo of a top-heavy woman do the hula on his bicep. Scripted letters swayed beneath her tiny feet: Sid Loves Myrna.
"Wazzat custud?" Sid growled. "Izzat iscream aw smudder shit?"
I understood this language with zero difficulty. This scares me.
"It’s richer than ice cream," I replied. "It’s made with a heavier cream."
Normally, I would’ve called him "Sir." See, Sid had several important teeth missing. It usually amuses the hell out of me to call a man with no front teeth, "Sir." But like I said, I was too sad.
Sid leaned into my face, pressing his palms into the cash register. "I wanna chocklit. Lahge. Wit rainbuh sprinkuhs." He then unleashed a long beef burrito belch.
I was repulsed, but somehow I resisted any retaliation. I didn’t want him to have a hemorrhage and shoot his sugar-sticky blood all over my counter.
I made his chocolate cone and I got even more depressed than I already was. I mean, it was suddenly pretty depressing to make a large cone for this beyond-obese, toothless guy. I started to wonder about the quality of Sid’s life. I wondered if Myrna was a real woman somewhere. Did she love him? I wondered if she left him because he was fat or belched in public. Had her devastating departure left him no choice but to seek solace in cone after chocolate cone?
I handed Sid his treat. He opened up his cavernous mouth and took a huge hunk off the top. Sprinkles that escaped his mouth trickled to the counter. He shoved three pocket-sweaty bills at me and lumbered away, muttering obscenities in between gulps. As I rang up his three dollars and grabbed the nearest rag to wipe the clump of drooly sprinkles off the counter, I tried to shake off my sadness. But I couldn’t.
I can’t believe people come here to have fun. This is about the least fun place on earth. Besides school, that is. If I get any more depressed about the human condition, I just might feel sorry enough for Tsylt to accept one of his numerous broken-English advances. He’s the most persistent of my European suitors, the one I’ve nicknamed "Woody" for reasons that I don’t want or need to explain.
Thank God I’m getting out of here in just a few weeks. I can’t believe I’m finally going to see Hope. I’m going to be there for her sixteenth birthday on the twenty-third. I really can’t believe it. It’s been more than six months. Even though we’ve been keeping in touch like we promised (with no guilt) I really want to see her surroundings for myself. Maybe seeing her in her element will be the thing that finally convinces me that she isn’t coming back.
August 2nd
Hope,
It’s not my imagination anymore. For the past week, Burke has started dropping me off before Manda, even though I live closer to him and it makes more geographic sense to take her home first. When I called him on it, he mumbled something about this being the route recommended by Yahoo! Maps. Bullshitbullshitbullshit. Then Manda told me that since I didn’t even have a learner’s permit (like she does!) I should just shut up and let him drive. She then proceeded to pat Burke’s knee and flutter those goddamn eyelashes of hers as the exclamation point on the insult.
What am I going to tell Bridget? I don’t have any hard-core evidence. But I’m not likely to get any. I can’t steal their uniforms and test them for DNA, can I?