Chapter 11

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For a little more context of the Shepard household I do suggest reading my one shot That's how it goes. Thanks!

xXxXxX

Working is more miserable than I thought it was going to be. There seems to be a never ending line of people that want something from the snack bar. I quickly learn that people don't just come here to bowl, at least half the people that come, come for food and drinks and just hangout.

What makes it worse is that Darry insisted that I wear a nice dress to make a good impression on my first day. And since I outgrew all of my church dresses with my last growth spurt, he came up with one of Mom's dresses that had a high collar. I wanted to cry when he brought it out. It was so ugly. Not to mention hot and itchy.

I'm actually still surprised that Darry let me take the job in the first place. At first he kicked up a fuss about it, but Sodapop, who was already his favorite again reasoned that they both had jobs when they were my age. Darry grudgingly agreed that I could work at the bowling alley, but one of his conditions was that I couldn't take the bus or walk home alone after dark and someone would pick me up.

I'm half wishing he didn't let me take the job when a big group comes in and heads right to the counter. Forcing a smile, I begin to take orders. My feet and back ache from standing so long and I can't help but wonder why I wanted a job so bad.

At the end of my shift I take off the apron I'm required to wear and hang it up. All I want is to go home and soak my feet, cover them in lotion, then crawl into bed and sleep.

"Good job today, Cassie," My boss, whose name I learned is Rick says.

I smile and thank him and turn to head towards the door.

"And Cassie," he says, stopping me.

"Yes?"

"We're pretty casual around here, you don't have to dress up, you know?"

I flush. I have the distinct feeling that he's trying not to laugh at me. "Okay, thanks," I say and walk quickly to the door.

xXx

A few days later a thunderstorm moves in, leaving Darry home from work. I know he's agitated about having to miss work because it means missing a day of pay, but I think he needed a day off and it looks like mother nature thought he needed a day off too.

I have the crossword puzzle from the newspaper that Darry's reading spread out on the coffee table in front of me.

"Greek letter, four letters," I read out loud, chewing on the end of my pen.

"Beta?" Darry suggests and I quickly scribble it down.

"Thanks," I mutter.

I move onto the next one. Nonflying bird. Three letters. The only ones I can think of are penguins and chickens. Those are to long though. I rack my brain, trying to think of another nonflying bird.

Ponyboy comes into the living room and positions himself in front of the tv, turning it on. The storm made it staticky, but soon I hear the familiar opening notes to The Guiding Light. It was Mom's favorite soap opera.

He goes to turn the channel but I tell him to leave it. He shoots me a look, but doesn't turn the station. I know he's mad at me. He hasn't said anything, but he keeps looking at me with those judgy little eyes. He thinks I owe Curly an apology, which I do, but I've never been good at saying sorry. I made a deal with myself that if he showed up then I would apologize. Deep down though I knew he wasn't going to show up.

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