The Hippie | DISCONTINUED

7: cafes

"Hi, can I help you?" The man behind the counter asked me.

Okay, this is it, be normal.

"Hi. I was wondering if you're hiring here, please?" I asked, my voice polite and even.

"Yes, we are actually if you would like to follow me, I'll show you to the office."

I obeyed and followed the middle-aged dude through a door behind the counter, through a bustling kitchen-which smelt amazing-and stopped outside a door.

He slipped inside, leaving me outside. Okay, this was awkward. I stood outside the room and twiddled my fingers. The floor was wooden and very clean here. And the wall was white, not like the bricked wall in the main part of the cafe.

At last, the door opened and the waiter beckoned me inside. An old, plump woman sat behind a desk that was covered with papers and pens. She looked up at me, looking down her nose through her half-moon glasses that were perched on the end of her hooked nose.

"Take a seat." The door behind me clicked shut as the waiter left. I slipped into one of the two chairs in front of the desk and waited for who I would assume is the manager to speak. "Now, before I can give you the job, I'll need you to fill these forms out and read through the rules, please."

I almost sighed as she passed me a stack of forms for me to fill out.

Ugh paperwork, gross.

I picked up a pen and read through the first question.

'Name:'

°

It took me half an hour to answer the one hundred and one questions but at last, I was finished. I handed them over back to the boss who skim read my answers for no more than two minutes before shoving them in a draw and said, "Can you do from three-thirty to four-thirty every other weekday and eleven-thirty to one thirty Saturdays?"

"Yes, that sounds perfect." Wow, was that it? Had I got the job?

"Go back to the counter and Trevor will tell you what to do."

"Thank you so much." I held my hand out for the lady to shake-which she took-and left the room.

°

Trevor had given me a black apron with The Hideout logo on it and told me that I could just wear my normal clothes on. Then he showed me how to use each machine-which I instantly forgot-and taught me the basics of how to be a waitress. How hard could this possibly be?

Despite working in a busy, cute, aesthetic cafe, I had never been so bored in my life. All I did was clean tables, take orders, make drinks, and serve them. I watched as the clock hands moved around the face excruciatingly slowly.

I tried texting Bree to help pass the time, only to get scolded by Trevor.

Leaning on the counter, I took out my notebook and pen and started doodling idle patterns and faces of the people around me. I tried sparking up a conversation with Trevor but he gave me short clipped answers. The other waiters that walked passed all kept their heads down and ignored me completely.

Everyone is so rude here!

The bell rang signaling that new customers had entered. My head shot up. Finally, I can do something! Gaze met a pair of large too-blue eyes. My heart sank as I realized who had entered; why it was only the whole family of popular royalty.

Don't go to one of my tables. Please, please don't go to one of my tables.

The group of judging teenagers plopped down onto two worn, leather sofas - at table 14. I internally groaned.

Sugarplum fairies.

With one last exasperated sigh, I turned my notebook to a new, clean page and slowly meandered my way to the table.

Hey, maybe they'll just treat me like any other waitress?

"Hello, what can I get for you today? " I asked politely. One by one, their heads turned to me and one by one, their faces morphed into an expression of mischief.

"Oh look, it's the Hippie!" one of the dudes snickered. "Hey, has anyone told you anything about fashion? "

They all laughed. My face felt like it was on fire. My face felt like each of their gazes was burning holes through my skin.

"Maybe you should try buying clothes that aren't two sizes too big."

"Maybe you should try buying clothes that aren't two sizes too small," I told her simply so she could understand. I looked from face to face, taking in the looks of disgust. Each one of them snickering at me. All of them apart from one. Kyle sat there staring at me with an expression that seemed to say: 'I'm sorry' and 'don't listen to them'.

"It's because she wants to look like she's wearing her boyfriend's clothes!" one of the girls snickered as if it was the most ridiculous thing ever.

"Who in their right mind would date that?"

"Guys, can we just order? I'm hungry." I appreciated Kyle's poor attempt to steer the attention away from me. Even though nobody listened to him.

"Who in their right mind would wear those clothes?"

"I honestly thought you would have gotten over yourselves by now and chosen something else to pick on other than how much more amazing I look than you," I said as calmly as I could.

"You think you look better than me?" Georgina questioned, arching a slug eyebrow. "There is no way you can look half as good as me in that trash. Don't you agree, babe?" Mrs. Popular turned her attention to Mr. Popular and laid a hand on his chest. She was so close to him. She was practically sat on his lap!

Poor Kyle. I think to myself though he's probably quite content.

"If you're waiting for me to care about your worthless opinion, you better pack some overnight clothes, it's going to be a while." I smiled sweetly at them as the smug looks washed away. "Now, what can I get you?"