Because I'm Different || Dan Howell

Chapter 9 - Internet Punch

Three days have passed since seeing Dan and Phil. Work has been hectic. I have had to work over-time on all three of the days because lots of staff were off. I have been quite isolated recently. Although, I have  messaged Luke, once, and we might meet up next week. Stressed is an understatement. Sometimes, I wish I had followed my heart, like my mum told me when she was on her death bed. Yes. I no longer have a mum and my dad is somewhere in this world. She died at age fourty-seven when I was nineteen and yes, I miss her. A lot. Only Luke knows that she is gone. I never talk about intimate things like that with real humans.

So, anyway. Stressed, tired and needing money. Youtube has given me a boost since Dan had posted the Truth or Dare. Dan. Phil. PJ. Chris. Chris. Shit, Chris. I haven't spoken to him since the first time we met. I should text him in my lunch break.

It's '10:42' and I have been worked off my feet. I work as a waitress at a restaurant/pub thing called 'The Boy and Wolf'. Obviously stealing the title from The Boy Who Cried Wolf. So original, I know.

I was wearing a black dress (Grrr) that every waitress was assigned when we got the job. A black pinafore with a white trim and the usual black court shoes. Hair back in a bun, red lipstick with minimal eye make-up. I never wore make-up anyway so when I had to wear red lipstick, it looked odd just by itself. I can't do make-up anyway let alone know what each thing is. I mean, what's a concealer? Does it cover your eye lashes or something? Oh god. I'm a disgrace to society.

I walked up to another booth in the restaurant.

"Hello. Welcome to The Boy and Wolf. Can I take your order?" I said, politely with a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Yes. Can we get two of your Macaroni Cheeses and a children's fish fingers please." The man said. There was a couple with their toddler, strapped to a high-chair, squirming to try and get out. I took down the order on a note book.

"Any drinks?" I asked, looking up.

"Just two lemonades." The lady said. I took it down.

"Your order will be ready in a moment." I flashed a smile before turning away and scowled. I hate this job. I hate, hate, hate it. So fake. So robotic. So...

"Hey. You are Sam, ain't ya?" Someone called out. I span the heel of my foot to look at five people in a booth. Two girls, three boys. They were from University. They were the ones that made it hell. They hated me. I wondered if they forgot what happened and can start a fresh start? I hate long term wars.

"Yes, that's me. Can I help you?" I asked them, not using the fake smile but still being polite. 

"You were that nerd girl that studied science." One of the boys asked, the rest laughed.

"Yup. The nerd girl that got a degree in both three-star science and music. Your problem is?" I asked, sternly. They were gonna try to mess with me, I knew it and I was fed up with the constant repeats.

"Why are you being a twat and working at this dump?" A girl asked and once again, they all laughed.

"Why are you still stuck in University for the third time running? Couldn't get a degree? Drinking yourself away most nights?" I asked in a sarcastic, baby voice tone. 

"Guys, I remember. She's the one with the mental disorder and slip-personality condition. Give her a break, will ya?" The other girl said, sarcastically.

"I'm sorry. I remember. You are the one still living in a caravan." I said, turning away but a hand grabbed my wrist, firmly. I spun around to see one of the guys. He had very short, brown hair, a bulky frame, tall (maybe taller than Dan) and had a square jaw.