“Yeah, I'm Sage, and don’t worry about me. I was basically raised in a diner. Only thing I need to know is if we have specials and how to work your POS system.”
“Thank God,” Lindy says, looking all sorts of relieved. “Tonight is possibly the worst night to train. Hearing that you have a clue is a huge weight off my shoulders. Here’s your pad.” She hands me a standard order notepad. “How about you take the left side of the restaurant and I take the right? Easy enough? Write down your drinks, and then once you place the order, grab me and we’ll actually start a bill in the system for them. That way you don’t have to grab me every two seconds.”
“Easy enough,” I tell her while following her out from behind the counter.
The rest of the evening flies by at warp speed. Thankfully the POS system is just like my last job’s, so there honestly isn’t much to learn. I hustle to turn tables as fast as I can without rushing the patrons. By the time closing comes around, my feet are killing me, but I feel alive.
Lindy locks the door and sags against it. “And now we clean.” She eyes me wearily. “Why do you look so happy?”
“I love making my own money and being constantly moving. Plus, I didn’t have a single asshole tonight, which is a first.” I shrug before lifting the last tub full of dirty dishes from my section.
“Just wait. Where there are pretty girls, there are assholes,” Lindy teases before cleaning off the last of her tables.
We work in silence, listening to the Top 40 over the sound system.
“I take it you’re new here?” she asks after a while.
“Yeah, I moved here about a week ago.”
“What brought you here?”
“My aunt and her family live here, so I came to live with them after my mother passed.”
“I’m sorry. So, you go to school, then?”
“Yeah, Brighton Academy,” I tell her absentmindedly while filling salt shakers.
“Wait, you go to BA and you’re working?” she asks with humor in her voice.
“Yeah….”
“Oh, sweetheart, they won’t know what to do with you. But I can’t wait to learn what you think of that place.”
“It’s something, that's for sure,” I muse.
“Right? That place is its own brand of interesting,” she teases.
Before I can respond, there's a knock at the door. I turn and find V standing there in her skirt and heels, looking completely out of place.
“You know her?” Lindy asks with a raised brow.
“That’s my cousin and ride,” I say dryly.
Lindy laughs. “Get out of here. I'll text you your schedule tomorrow.”
I take off my apron and shove my tips into my purse without looking at them. “Thanks, Lindy. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Night,” she calls out. “Hey, Sage? Great job tonight.”
“You too, Lindy,” I call over my shoulder before letting myself out.
V asks me all sorts of questions on the way home, but they go in one ear and out the other.
Once back at the house, I head straight for the shower. When I get out, I quickly blow-dry my hair before crawling into bed so I don’t have to deal with it tomorrow.
Before I get completely comfortable, I realize I never checked my tips, so I grab my purse off the floor by my nightstand. I take the wad of cash out and organize the bills before counting.
I made $375. In one night. I can work with that.
I shove a hundred of it back into my purse, putting the rest in my nightstand.
I need to find a better place to keep my cash, I think before I pass out.
Chapter Seven
After a long day of hell—also known as Brighton Academy—I reluctantly follow Tinsley and V into a football stadium. It’s been two weeks, and needless to say, it hasn’t gotten any better.
Walking into BA every morning is like walking onto a battlefield. Your armor better be firmly in place; otherwise, the next hit could be fatal. My only saving grace is Tinsley and Victoria.
Keaton keeps trying to talk to me too, but I’ve decided it’s best to keep my distance. Tinsley said there had to be more to it than I knew, but I didn’t want to hear it. I politely asked her to drop it, and she hasn’t said anything about it since. Reed also keeps his distance for the most part, except when making snide comments about me.
Keaton, on the other hand, has spent a lot more time with Tinsley, meaning he’s also spent more time with me. I rarely see him with Reed or the boys anymore. Part of me wonders why, but then I remember the feeling of standing in that locker room, naked, with no idea what to do.
They haven’t tried any more stunts, thankfully.
That’s why, when Tinsley and Victoria cornered me this afternoon and begged me to come to the lacrosse game, I didn’t put up too much of a fight.
“This is going to be so much fun! We’re going to slaughter the Cardinals!” Tinsley gushes.
“I thought we were going to watch lacrosse, not football,” I murmur.
“We are, silly,” Tinsley teases.
“This is a football stadium,” I deadpan.
“That’s because we use it for both. But lacrosse gets first dibs because our lacrosse team is better. We don’t use the goalposts but rather something that looks more like soccer nets, and they also have different lines drawn on the field,” V tells me.
“Right,” I say as if I understood any of what she said.
“Come on. Let’s take a seat, and then I’ll explain.” Tinsley pulls my arm, grabbing the only empty spot in the front row.
It doesn’t escape my attention that this spot was purposely left vacant or that we’re being stared at by a good portion of the students around us. Most of the adults, thankfully, are either talking or watching the players warm up on the field.
I glance back at Tinsley and smile. She looks great in her borrowed jersey and miniskirt. The way she sits is so poised and proper. I can see why she’s her family’s princess.
Victoria and I are also wearing borrowed jerseys. I have no clue whose numbers we’re wearing, but it feels nice being a part of something again.
I used to have this at my old school before my life went to hell. I had friends and attended the football games. When I wasn’t at work, I went to movies and had dates.
You don’t see people’s true colors until they’re tested. My mom dying and me being sent to foster care showed those colors. I went from having a happy, normal life with friends to being a troubled foster child. That’s what all teens are labeled as in the system, even if it’s unofficial. People assume because of your age that you must be trouble.
Once I moved the second time, my so-called friends dropped off too. They didn’t want to hang out with someone who no longer enjoyed partying and talking about boys.
I watch as Victoria says something that makes Tinsley laugh and smile. I won’t let them get too close, but it’s nice to do something other than worry about life for once.
Settling in next to Tinsley, I turn and gaze at the field.
“Okay, S. Let’s give you the rundown on the basics of lacrosse. I’ll explain during the game too, but the quick explanation is this. Over there”—she points to the left side of the field—“is the defense area, which is where we score. Then you have the middle of the field, and then on the other side is the attack area, which is our net.”