perf*ct (boy × boy) ✔

seventeen: everything sucks

nathan dawson's pov:

My palms were sweaty, so I hoped neither Charlie nor Bessie would try to give me a handshake. I never knew how to do that anyway. I always ended up giving this dead fish handshake, where I just weakly held the hand and struggled to keep an eye contact.

I also hoped they wouldn't make me give any sort of a speech, because my voice would certainly fail me and I wasn't sure if I was able to form even one understandable word.

I pulled the heavy glass door open, flinching when a bell above it rang, and forced my feet to enter the diner. Charlie was standing behind the counter and had a welcoming smile on his wrinkled face, so I felt a tad better to approach him.

"H-hi." I mentally cursed myself when I realized I couldn't get anything more out of my mouth. Surely Charlie knew who I was and what I was doing there, but introducing myself properly would have given a good impression.

Did I already mention that me taking orders from customers and doing a job that was all about social interactions was a horrible idea..? 

"Well, hello there. Bessie is in the backroom, she'll fill you in." Unfortunately for Charlie, he didn't seem to notice the magnitude of his mistake of hiring me yet. I thanked him and escaped to a small office room that had a big Staff only sign on it.

Bessie was what you could call a classic grandma with her short round body clothed in a red apron and her fair hair streaked with silver. She had a loud, crackling laughter you could hear all the way to the furthest corner of the diner. She was a mean good cook and baker. Apparently she also swore like a sailor, as I soon found out.

"Help me with these boxes." I hurriedly picked the heavy box she was carrying. "They're heavy as fuck."

While we were carrying and unboxing our load, Bessie briefed me to my tasks in the diner. When I was taking the orders, I needed to wear a red cap and an apron. There would be a lot of heavy lifting, from which I was so excited that I would rather have socialized with the customers.. and that says a lot. I would be making coffees and milkshakes, but the rest of the serving was on Bessy.

I already knew I would probably drop dead in just a month or so, when I heard I would have four shifts a week. Two after school and two on the weekend. I have no idea how Nicholas could manage getting good grades and working, because I was already struggling with school and I had barely even started working. That is what I told mom and Jeffrey as soon as I was home after my first day at the diner.

"It'll do you good. You'll learn to take responsibility and it'll look good in your college applications." Mom reassured me, placing a plate heaping with smashed potatoes, steamed veggies and some suspicious looking brown sauce on the table in front of me.

"How good will it look if I'm going to fail my classes because of it?" I complained.

"You're not going to fail." Jeffrey put in sternly, and then with a softer tone: "You're going to need the money, if we have to pay for the treatments again. I know it's not ideal, but sometimes we all need to work a little harder to make things work."

"Damn right it's not ideal, and I seriously don't think I can manage school and work. None of my friends have to work and it's just not fair.." I tried to explain. 

"Language." Mom scolded me. "You'll get used to it, I'm sure. And it's only temporary."

That's when Nicholas barked into the kitchen, on his way to god knows where. He took an apple from the fruit basket and patted me on my shoulder, making my sore muscles cry in pain.

"Bessie and Charlie are nice." He said then, like that would somehow fix the issue. I was about to snap at him when we heard a car honking from the street. "Anyway, I'm out."