Roots

Grassroots

Grassroots

I slide the broken door open and step inside the vibrantly painted room. Despite the splashes of yellow and the intent to make this place seem warm and welcoming, it's a horrible place to be.

"Appointment for Tikera Copeland." I rest against the desk and smile.

The secretary swirls around in her chair and gives me an unimpressed frown, then turns to the computer screen. She clicks on something and taps her fingernails against the plastic desk.

"Take a seat, Mrs. Davis will see you soon."

"Thank you." I tug on a smile.

I glance over my shoulder and groan—are you freaking kidding me?

The only seat available is wedged between a man who smells like he's never seen a bar of soap in his life and an elderly woman moaning about something her doctor said.

Can the world swallow me already?

As I step towards them, the door to Mrs. Davis's office opens and I sigh.

"Tikera Copeland," she calls.

I walk into the room and take a seat opposite from her. She frowns at the computer while I place my bag beside my feet.

Her dead brown eyes shift from the computer to me and my stomach knots, but I remain smiling, even though it's forced.

She shakes her head. "We're operating on a tight deadline, Isabelle. Wait, I'm sorry, Tikera. If you don't find employment soon, you'll join our work program."

"Can you find me something in administration?"

"You have a choice of gardening or a charity op shop. To avoid this, you need to apply for more jobs. The other young people who come here apply for sixty jobs per month. Jane—" Her eyes glance at the computer. "Tikera, you don't apply yourself enough. I want you to apply for more jobs from different websites."

"I use a range of websites: Facebook, Seek, Indeed, Job Spot, company websites. Like you said, I'm unemployable because I don't have experience in anything."

"Everyone is employable," she snaps. "How about Grassroots? Another client of mine got a job from that website yesterday."

"Grassroots? That's like Craigslist, though." I'm all for working, but I'd rather not end up in an unmarked grave somewhere in the desert.

"You're being narrow-minded and unimaginative. You need a job, anything you can get, and Grassroots will help you."

"I'm sorry. I'll try that website." If I end up in an unmarked grave, it'll beat coming here every week.

"I'll book an appointment for next week to check on your progress."

"Thank you, I'll see you then."

"Goodbye, Arianna, and have a good rest of your week."

"Sure, I'll do that." I grab my bag and hurry out.

The bright yellow wall makes me want to smash my head against it, but instead I slide the door open and wander outside.

The warm sun beats down and burns my pale skin, but I should be grateful because I might end up a sex slave to a serial killer and this could be the last time I experience this feeling.

"This sucks," I grumble.

I press the unlock button on my keys and slip into the front seat of my car.

Yes, things could be worse, but it doesn't stop me from banging my head against the steering wheel.

"Why is this so hard? How am I not good enough for McDonald's?"