I got both jobs that I wanted even if the first one includes a creepy boss. The second job is a nice bookstore on the edge of the downtown area. They're both pretty decent jobs and I'm getting a good amount of money per day. I'll have enough money by next year when I go to college.
Mr. Coldren, the store manager is giving me ten dollars an hour which means I'll have seventy dollars by the end of the day. Ambrose Roswell, the bookstore owner is paying me nine dollars an hour since I'll only be working six and a half hours a day. I work at the store on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursday's, along with any weekends I want. The bookstore is a completely different story because I work on Wednesdays and Fridays, along with any other days I want.
These hours aren't normal and my pay is higher than it probably should be, but it's what I could work out. I need money and I'll deal with the strange hours to get it. I'm determined to make enough money to not have much student loans when I finish college. I want to be a photographer and I want to be amazing at it.
I still have my money from May, the older lady who took me in. Last time I checked, it was almost seven hundred thousand dollars. That should be a suitable amount for the rest of my life. I won't get any of it until I turn eighteen so that will be right around college time. I plan on using it for that along with a nice apartment.
I've been thinking about this for a long time, probably since I was little. May helped get these thoughts into my head and I'm really glad she did. I wouldn't of gone on for this long without this kind of hope. I'll be able to get away and not really have to worry about money. The good thing is that I've always been excellent with money, never spending it on unnecessary things.
"Luna . ." Kira says in a singsong voice.
"Sorry, thinking." I smile at her.
"I'm going on a date Saturday, will you be fine?" She asks, putting her bowl in the sink.
"Yeah, I'm probably going to be working."
"Don't wear yourself out, Luna. Work is a magnificent thing, but not the stress that can come with it." She scolds, putting the cereal away.
"I know, but I have a goal in life and I need money to achieve that goal." I stand up, putting my bowl in the sink.
"You have more than half a million dollars . . I think you'll be set for a while." She sighs, obviously not liking my response
"Kira, I'll be okay. I promise that I won't overwork myself." I reassure her.
"If you say so, but please remember that you are a human and that you have a limit.'' She looks at me with a serious look and I nod.
"So I'm not an alien from some faraway planet?" I joke, lightening the mood.
"You wish you could be that lucky, but I can assure you that you're a human being from a small town in the United States."
"Actually, we don't know that. I could of been in Canada or the U.K. at one point."
"I don't think you were born there, though."
"I don't even know where I was born. Wasn't it Missouri?" I look at her.
"From what I've read, you were born in Missouri. From there, you went to Louisiana. You were all over the place after that. Arkansas, Georgia, Nevada, Montana, Wyoming, and I think West Virginia were a few of the places."
"Wow, I was an adventurous kid."
"Yeah, an adventurous kid who has eight minutes before first bell. C'mon, I'll drive you." We walk to the car in silence.
"When will I get my license? I have two jobs and school, shouldn't I have a license?" I question her as we head to school.
"Yes, but you'll have to wait at least six months."
"I should go take the test before I go into work Saturday. I'm sure Ambrose will be okay with it."
"Ambrose?" She raises her eyebrow.
''He's twenty-four and hates being called, Mr. Roswell."
"Ah, what about the other guy?"
"Fifty and grumpy." I tell her.
"You'll hopefully get used to it."
"Yeah, me too." I mutter as I step out of the car.
I walk towards the main entrance as Kira speeds off. I ignore the looks that I'm getting, not really sure why people are staring. I get to my locker and understand immediately as my heart sinks. I pull down the picture as the humiliation and shame take over my body. I don't know what to do expect cry.
''That's you, right?" The brunette from yesterday asks.
"No." I lie as tears slide down my face.
"Really? Cause that face looks awfully familiar." Her strawberry blonde cronie comments.
"It's not me!" I exclaim.
"I think it is." The brunette smirks and I don't realize what I'm doing as my fist connects with her face.
"Ms. Westbrook!" I look to see my calculus teacher, Mr. Venne with a frown on his face.
"She just punched me for literally no reason." The brunette lies with a pout.
"Everybody head to class. Reagan, Luna follow me."
We end up in the teacher's lounge, sitting at a round table just staring at one another. Luckily, we're the only three here. Mr. Venne gets up and calls someone, speaking in a hushed tone. I still have the picture in my hand, not wanting to throw it away until I get home. After the phone call, he sits back down with a raised eyebrow.
"What happened, Luna?" He looks directly at me.
"Nothing much." I shrug, trying to appear laid-back.
"Yeah, right. You punched me and it was all over a stupid picture." Reagan rolls her eyes.
"What picture? Is that what you're holding?" He holds out his hand as if he wants to see the picture.
"I can't."
"Luna, it could help." He looks at me and I feel hopeless.
"Fine." I hand it over with shaking hands.
"Oh, shit. Oh dear God. What the hell is this?" His eyes are wide and his cheeks are red.
"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it."
"Reagan, where did you get this?" He hands it back to me.
"I searched her name and there were literally zero pictures of her except that one." The vomit rises in my throat and I run to the trashcan as my stomach contents empty into it.
"Reagan, get her a water bottle out of the fridge." Mr. Venne holds back my hair as I puke one more time.
"Can I leave?" Reagan asks, grossed out.
"Yeah, just tell your teacher to find me after school. Also meet me in my room for detention, okay?"
"Ugh, whatever." The door opens and closes as I pull away and sit against the wall.
"Here." He hands me the water bottle and I take a small sip.
"Thanks."
"I won't write you down, but that doesn't mean you'll get away from this kinda thing again."
"Got it." I stand up and walk out.
Mr. Venne and I head to class together where Ms. Santos is teaching. Mr. Venne clears his throat and she stops what she's doing. He thanks her as I take a seat, glad I have everything I need. I then realize that I never grabbed that picture.
