uncool, stanley barber

1

1 - the art of beaver valley bowl

"your sister's so cute" dina tells me as we're biking back from school. she's referring to winnie, my 5 year old sister.

winnie's clinging onto my bike handles as she sits in front of me, in her dungarees. "she's alright" i ruffle her curly hair.

"i wish i had a sister, i get so bored" dina replies.

"take her, whenever you want" i look at her as she laughs. winnie taps my knee in an attempt to hit me, but her small hands prevent me any pain.

we pull up on our bikes outside my work place. it's an okay part time job; the beaver valley bowl.

"well, i've got to take her now anyway don't i?" dina smiles as i help winnie off of my bike seat. "hope you have a good shift, i need to get a job soon."

"i'd love for you to work here" i say as i take off my denim jacket, revealing my work shirt. i don't mind it, the red and pink hints with the 'ella' embroidery.

i look at dina with my little sister in her lap, about to cycle away. "but yanno di, you'd look better in the diner uniform."

she snickers at me. "the blue dress that goes down to your ankles?" she looks up from my sister and at my forced work outfit. "actually, yeah. i dig it."

i wave them off before i enter the local bowling alley. it's small 'cause our town's small. and everybody knows everybody.

"ella, how're you?" gladys, the lady who owns the bowling alley asks me.

"i'm okay" i smile at her.

i go out back and hang up my jacket before pushing my hair behind my ears. after, i begin to pick up litter from a group that've just finished a game.

placing the used paper plates and left over pizza into the trash, i hear the recognisable sound from the countertop. i glance over.

stanley barber, my co worker, is spraying disinfectant inside the rental shoes. it's like he has a technique as he sprays it close, before letting every fume escape.

stanley's got brown curly hair and sometimes smells of weed. he also goes to westinghouse high school.

"hey, ella!" he calls over to me. i place the tray in my hands on the side, before heading over to the counter.

"hey" i smile at him.

"i didn't know you were working today, that's-that's cool" stanley places his hands on the counter. he's always been awkward, that's just in his nature. it's also the reason gladys keeps him behind the counter a lot of the time. "you picking up trash?"

i nod. "gladys gave me the best job."

"better than being with stink-ass shoes" he says as he brings one to his nose. the slightest whiff takes a hike up his nose, but he tries to hide it.

nice one.

we fall silent and i absentmindedly fiddle with a few things on the surface, like some left over tips. "so, you wanna get high after work?" he offers.

my inner priss starts to break out. weed is a drug, but sure loads of people do it. look at stanley, he's..fine. "why?"

"it'll be fun" he smiles.

"is that your answer for everything?" i cross my arms. surprisingly, he just nods and accepts my judgement. "i've um, never tried it before. besides, my dad would kill me."

"huh" he says. something seemed to occupy his thoughts for the slightest second, but i didn't think much of it.

"i don't pay you two to chat!" gladys shouts at us, startling me. i've not realised how close stanley and i had gotten. we were both practically leaning over the counter.

as we're about to go back to work, we hear a splash on the floor. someone's bent over and emptying the contents of their stomach onto the shiny floor. i suppose that's what happens when you overdose on the chunky milkshakes and greasy chips.

"alright, closing time. you hippies, outta my alley!" gladys shouts at the sick mess and his crew. me and stanley were frozen, watching the older woman rid beavers valley of the male species.

i thought she was crazy at first, closing the alley an hour prior to official hours, but she'd spotted the alcohol they'd snuck in. next time, i won't blame it on our fine cuisine.

even though gladys had done most of the work, me and stanley were the ones responsible for cleaning the floor after sicky mcgee.

"this isn't nice" i said, holding onto the mop with a tight grip. i squeezed the contents out into the bucket before gagging slightly.

"what're you talking about, els? this is what i was born to do" stanley says, throwing his arms up in the air, abandoning his sponge.

els.

"that is something i'd like to do one day" he mutters, finishing up. stanley's weirdly okay with the close proximity between him and the sick on the floor.

"what? sneak alcohol into a forbidden place?" i ask, squeezing the remains of the liquid from the mop so stanley could pick out the chunks.

"no. tick" he mimed, suggesting he's already done that. "i wanna be able to puke in public."

i pop my hip to the side and watch him for a second. as he's cleaning up someone else's vomit, he wants to go through it? "i have some questions-"

"it's just the most ballsy, give no fucks kinda gesture" he says. i roll my eyes as he gets up from the floor and aids me with the bucket by lifting it and helping me pour it away.

we head back inside to grab our things as he locks up for the night. "stanley?" i begin. he turns his head back to me after fumbling with the keys for a while.

"how come you never give a fuck? like, how come you never care what people think or say?"

he brushes back his curls and brings a smirk to his face after seeing my reaction.

"it's an art, els."

heyy, hope you're liking this
i just love stanley barber & wyatt ofc