Young Annabelle (8 page)

It definitely was.

Shelby took me to the supply closet near the
end of the hall. She grabbed a giant ring of keys from her belt
loop and picked out a large silver one. She unlocked the door and
shoved her shoulder into it, pushing it open with a loud thud.

“Wait here,” she ordered, shutting the door
in my face.

Country music began playing over the club’s
sound system. The singer drawled on about Dolly Parton and
rhinestones as the supply closet door burst open and Shelby emerged
holding a bucket full of cleaning supplies.

“Here!” She shoved the bucket toward me,
letting it go before I’d grabbed it. My arms jerked out suddenly to
snatch it before it crashed to the floor.

“Get to work!” I could smell her horrid
breath over the scent of all the cleaning solutions I was now
carrying.

Jesus! Ever hear of mouthwash?

The ladies change room was the closest to the
closet so I headed there first. Half an hour later, I was shaking
my head as I left the change room.

Damn! What do rich people
eat?

I shivered, remembering the toilet situation
that had taken half a bottle of Pine-Sol to clear out.
Unfortunately my bathroom expeditions weren’t yet over; my next
stop was the front lobby where another gloriously large washroom
was waiting for me.

Is this even legal?
I contemplated. I was only
seventeen; surely there were rules about what seventeen year olds
were allowed to do, especially when they worked part-time for
minimum wage.

Loud noises echoed from the reception area.
It was still a torrential downpour so I was surprised to see the
front of the club packed with people. I weaved through the crowds,
muttering ‘excuse me’ as I squeezed by.

I walked passed the reception desk, not
bothering to see if Jenna was there, today was her day off. Donna
Tallins would be working the desk today.

About my height with long, auburn hair that
layered across her chest, and clear blue eyes against creamy white
skin. Donna was that girl that girls like me never bothered to
stand next to. It only led to disappointment. She was blushing and
nodding her bobble head as a tall guy sporting a backwards Miami
Marlins baseball cap bent over the counter. His blue shirt
tightened as he leaned into the corner. Donna looked like she was
having a hard time breathing the closer he got.

Look at her, acting like an
idiot, gushing over a guy just ’cause he’s cute. Jesus!

“Annabelle?” A familiar voice stopped in the
doorway to the washroom.

I looked over my shoulder. It was the guy
bent over the counter. He was staring at me with a huge grin.

James!
I blinked twice in quick succession,
shocked that he was here, standing in front of me. He was ignoring
Donna, who stared daggers into me.

Aren’t I Fireball to you, not
Annabelle…?
I felt the
green monster peek out as I saw James still leaning over the
counter. Still in Donna’s orbit.

“Oh – Hey!” I called back hesitantly. The
bucket of cleaning supplies in my hand made me self-conscious. I
was acting as cleaning lady today, there was no shame in that but
it was a servant’s duty compared to Donna who sat comfortably in
reception, looking down on me. Her piercing blue eyes lowered to my
hands, smirking when she spied the bucket.

“Thought that was you!” James pushed himself
away from the counter and approached me. I blinked up at him and
took a step forward, letting the bathroom door close. I put the
bucket on the floor and nervously wiped my hands on my jeans.

“You’re not working today? I thought you
were…” I could see Donna over his shoulder, watching us, making me
uncomfortable.

“I’ve got a little secret to share,” he
leaned close and mock-whispered, “I’ve been let off the hook.”

Donna was clearly not happy with the
familiarity James and I already shared.

Got to him first honey!
I mentally stuck out my tongue
at her, then quickly retracted it as I realized I stood no chance
against her.

“What’s your secret?”

“I don’t have to work anymore!” He breathed
an audible sigh of relief.

Confused, I just stared.
Anymore?
Why did he act like some burden
was lifted off his chest? Had he been working his entire life, or
was he really just the tool I first assumed?

“Oh…” I replied slowly. I couldn’t think of
what else to say without the risk of sounding bitter about the
situation: One, I wouldn’t get to work with him anymore; and two, I
still had to work and today it involved scrubbing toilets. I stared
down at his hands; they had probably never cleaned toilets. He was
a spoiled little boy and it annoyed me the way he was acting. I
didn’t have a choice, I had to work or else I’d have no money.

“What?” James asked, noticing my
disposition.

I hesitated. “I’m just wondering when the
violins are going to start playing.” His eyes widen and looked
offended. He was acting as if he’d done more than just half a day
yesterday!

“Are you making fun of me?” he asked
carefully. The joyous light was fading from his green eyes as they
stared at me in confusion. He didn’t understand. He was used to
everyone being happy for him, like Donna

I wasn’t. And I wasn’t about to pretend to
be.

So I just shrugged.

“I’m a baseball player,” he exclaimed, as if
explaining everything.

What the hell does that have to
do with anything? If you play ball, you don’t have to work?
If that’s the case,
sign me up!

“So?” I snapped in a voice that screamed ‘I
don’t care!’

“I’m on the team now for Royal Heights. They
started practice a week ago. I’ve missed out an entire week.” His
explanation made no sense and his tone said I had made him uneasy.
He wasn’t used to people not giving a shit about how ‘lucky’ he
was.

“
Again,
so
?”

He looked angry for a second, but his
expression quickly melted into something else – something
seductive.

Uh oh! I know that look… Prepare the
shields, captain!

“Fireball… If you aren’t good, I won’t let
you come to my practices,” James threatened. His voice would have
melted any girl – just not me. I stare back in disbelief; he was so
cocky.

“I’m good,” I shrugged, “but maybe ask Donna
there if she’d like to watch you practice, I’m sure she’d jump at
the chance.”

His lip twitched and something changed in his
eyes, as if he were seeing me in a new light.

“Maybe I will.”

“Then maybe you should,” I snapped back. My
lips tightened at the thought of Donna cheering for him on the
sidelines.

Whatever!

“What was that, Fireball? Do I detect a bit
of sadness in your tone?” He took a step closer, making me blush
and look away.

“No!” I tried too hard to sound
convincing.

Keep staring at the wall.
Do
not
look him in the
face, or he’ll know you’re full of shit.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be far,” he whispered
softly.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I
slowly turned back. My eyes met his soft, silky ones. But despite
his beautiful eyes, his words still annoyed me. I was sick and
tired of people not taking me seriously.

Time to show him what’s up!

“I have to get back to work.” I didn’t want
to fluff his ego any further, the text conversation last night must
have gone to his head.

“Hey James!” Donna shouted. “Come back
here!”

James’ eyes bore into mine, trying to
decipher some code in what I’d just said. ‘I have to go to work’
seemed pretty self-explanatory to me. Silence hovered over us until
he gave in and returned to
Donna
.

Whatever!

“
Later,
Annabelle,
” he
muttered, not bothering to look back.

Pretending I no longer existed, James
returned to his intellectually stimulating conversation with Donna.
I rolled my eyes and returned to my bucket. I had a job to do,
toilets needed scrubbing.

*****

“Please?”

“No!” I told my mother as she pouted from
across the table at Luigi’s, an Italian restaurant twenty minutes
from our house. It was odd that my family was in high-carb central,
especially with my parents hounding me about my weight so much. But
things changed a few hours ago…

At noon, my shift was cut short. It had
stopped raining but the dark clouds still looked threatening. I
skipped lunch in the change room, even though I was starving and
upset. I wanted to get home before the deluge started again.

As I climbed up the hill with my bike, my
mind flashed back to yesterday when James walked my bike up the
hill. My stomach twisted strangely and it felt as if someone had
been repeatedly poking me. I was irritated and I knew why – but I
didn’t understand it.

When a guy acted like an asshole, his name
was immediately struck from the list of potentials. Not that there
were any to begin with, but still. I was trying to cross him off,
erase him, but nothing worked. I kept going over our conversation
and my stomach kept aching. By the time I made it to the top of the
hill, I was a nervous wreck. I hopped on to my bike and raced
home.

A few drops landed on me as I pushed through
the front door. My stomach growled as I peeled off my shoes.
Unfortunately, the exertion of the bike ride had done nothing to
ease my nerves, but it did make me hungrier. I still had my lunch
in my backpack, but I knew it wasn’t going to be enough, not with
how Mom packed. I headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge,
scouring it for anything I could sneak upstairs unnoticed. I needed
two things right now: food and peace. Anyone who interfered with
either was in for a nasty surprise when I bit their head off.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mom
demanded from the other side of the fridge door.

I ignored her and continued searching for
something edible.

“I packed you a lunch!”

I shuffled some items around, still
searching.

“What’s going on in here?” Dad yelled,
stomping up from the basement.

“Marcus, look. She’s going to ruin her diet,”
she whined, turning to him for backup.

I grab an eighty-calorie strawberry yogurt
and slammed the fridge door shut. Mom scanned my hands to see what
I took.

“If you eat that you’re going to be over your
limit,” Mom tried to reason as I walked around her and grabbed a
spoon from the drawer. Dad crossed his arms but remained
silent.

“Yeah, well, I really don’t care right now!”
I shouted.

She blocked my path from the kitchen.

“No more diet!” I exploded.

Mom’s eyes grew wide. “What – You can’t…” she
stammered. Dad stayed quiet.

“I can,” I stated. “So don’t push me, or else
I’ll leave and never come back!” My threat caused Mom’s jaw to
drop. Dad put his hands on her shoulders, slowly pushing her out my
way.

“Alright, alright, enough of this. Annabelle,
you may go eat your yogurt in your room,” said Dad.

I quickly fled the kitchen and ran up the
stairs. I slammed my bedroom door shut, rattling the windows. I
could feel my temperature rising with my anger.

They can kiss my fat ass!

No one bothered me for a couple of hours.
They had a few brain cells after all, and noticed I wasn’t in the
best of moods to be quarreled with.

I had finally cooled down when there was a
timid knock on my door. My dad told me we were all going to Luigi’s
for dinner. Smart choice, seeing as good Italian food was the only
thing that had a chance of getting me out of my room
peacefully.

Then I was informed that today was going to
be a ‘pass day,’ a mulligan.

But once we were seated in the restaurant,
the smart brain cells didn’t stick around, not where my mother was
concerned anyway.

“Please, Annabelle, get diet cola not
regular,” Mom begged in front of our waitress. “Please for
Mommy!”

I stared at her and shook my head. She was
crazy. Did she not understand the concept of a pass day? We were at
an Italian restaurant where my favorite food, spaghetti and
meatballs, was their specialty. I hadn’t had spaghetti in a month
and a half!

Calories at home can be
monitored more easily than at a restaurant!
My mind mimicked in Mom’s voice, repeating
what she had said when I started this diet.

I ignored her plea and ordered: “I want
a
regular
cola,
please.”

Mom let out an exasperated breath and
dramatically flipped open her menu, scanning the drink selection
for herself.

“Since a certain someone doesn’t want to make
the healthy decision, I’ll go ahead a get that diet cola. Maybe
she’ll change her mind later,” Mom told the waitress, letting out a
little giggle as if to say, ‘Oh this girl, she’s fat and doesn’t
know dieting should be a way of life for her. Because she’s fat.
Oh, did I forget to mention she’s fat? That’s because she’s fat,
and fat people shouldn’t drink regular cola, it’ll only make them
fatter!’

Wow, she has no
limits.

Mom had no problem acting like a fool in
public just to make her point.

To put it simply: dinner was a disaster. But
I didn’t care. I got to eat spaghetti with meatballs for the first
time in nearly two months! If I had to sit through my mother
hounding me in front of an entire restaurant about getting diet
cola, just to get my favorite meal in the entire world, then I’d
happily do it again. But next time I’d pack earplugs.