Masked

Chapter 3

S i e n n a ' s   P O V

We all arrive at the diner at the same time. We all stand in a small group, studying the small little family-owned diner.

"This place looks sketchy," James says.

"It is, but it's my favourite restaurant. But first, is anyone willing to do a dare?" I ask, making a plan.

"Sure," Diego says, shrugging.

I smile. "Great. So, we all go in, I'll hide behind you. When a waitress comes to seat us, ask for the reserved seat, okay? And when the waitress says there isn't one, ask for the manager. Then tell the manager the same thing, that you want the reserved seat. Okay? I have a reserved seat, I just want to see the manager's reaction. Sound good?"

Diego shrugs. "Simple enough."

We all walk in, and like I said, I hide behind Diego. When a waitress comes to seat us, Diego requests for the reserved seat, and then the manager.

But, unfortunately, both managers come up, not just one of them.

"What is it boy?" Joe says, one of the managers.

"We want the reserved seat," Diego says.

"What reserved seat?" Joe asks, looking at the other manager, Mia.

Mia however, doesn't answer his question. "Who told you about the reserved seat?" she asks, giving Diego a death glare.

"Um, a girl named Georgia," he says, stepping to the side in fear.

He gives me an "I'm sorry" smile, but I shrug it off and look to the floor.

"Who are you Georgia?" Mia asks sternly.

I look up at them with one of my rare completely-real grins. "Blimey, ten years and you just don't recognize me? What kind of bloody grandparents are you?" 

Everyone gasps.

Mia and Joe in offense, and everyone else in surprise.

"Who are you?" Joe asks, but Mia looks at me happily.

"Ask your wife, wanker," I say moodily, slightly upset he didn't recognize me. 

"I've half a mind to whack you into next week," Mia says. "Calling me old." Mia takes off her sandal and raises it in the air.

"NO! LO SIENTO MIA!" I shout in fear of the chancla.

Mia laughs evilly as she puts her sandal back on. "You think you're off the hook, don't you, you little bugger? Disappearing for a damn decade. And where is your fucking bastard father? He is so grounded."

I laugh at her. Mia was not my grandma, just someone who was a mother figure to my father, and a grandmother figure to me as a child. I hadn't seen her since I had last come to Florida, before my father died.

"Come on to your reserved table. Bring your friends too," Mia commands, taking us to the reserved table as she curses my father and I in Spanish.

"You speak Spanish?" Diego asks, looking just as confused as everyone else at the encounter.

"Yes."

"That's your grandma?"

"No."

"Did you know that was what would happen?"

"Sort of. I didn't expect her to raise her bloody chancla," I mutter, sticking my tongue out at Mia.

"Why do you have a reserved table?"