Chapter3

#Chapter3

I wake up at eight in the morning and wait anxiously for noon to arrive as if it is a train carrying my long lost lover. I've never been very social or charismatic, and I'm not looking forward to helping people, all I want is to sit in the high chair by the entrance and look out at the beach. Maybe I won't be the best employee, but I'll be pretty happy. Does that make me a bad person? Selfish? Probably.

When I was fifteen, before I met Hunter, I saw a girl sitting in the chair by the entrance of that shop as I walked by. She was beautiful. Young, alive, fresh-looking. She was maybe eighteen or nineteen, and she would always sit there and read a magazine or some romance novel. People would ask her for help and she would point them in the direction they needed to go, but wouldn't do much more unless Sally was in. Most of the time, Sally isn't in. I've learned from observation that whoever is running the heat press is in charge.

I named her Hannah, which is weird, but I don't really care. She had black, long, wavy hair that she would braid in random spots and leave hanging. Her skin was tan because she was always sitting in the sun, and she had a tattoo of a Hawaiian flower on her ankle. She was some odd role model to me. We never spoke, she never knew of my existence, but I thought she must be the coolest girl in the entire world. Remind you, I was fifteen and depressed. But I've decided to live out my childhood dreams and be the girl in the high chair at the front of the shop.

When eleven thirty comes around, I decide to leave and be early. This may be the only time I show Sally that I'm a responsible employee, so it may as well be my first impression. The beach seems to be as crowded as it will get on a Monday. Not many adults fill the sand, but mostly teens and college kids and a few elderly people layabout.

I don't stop at the seawall today but walk straight across the street and head into the shop. There are two or three people looking at clothes or pointing to designs on the wall, and I move past them as I reach the register. Sally is there, leaning against the wall, waiting for the people to decide while chatting with some younger guy. She promptly notices me and lifts up. /"Hey, Emma, you're early, I like that. Oh, and you're already in uniform./"

I look down at my black hoodie. I suppose the employee uniform is anything from the shop because right in the middle is my orange sunset. /"Uh, yeah. This one is my favorite so... so I thought I'd wear it./" Talking is hard, as usual. /"What do you want me to, uh, do first?/"

She motions for me to come around the counter and I do so. /"This is Brandon. He's on the press. I think I already told you that, though./"

/"You did./"

My eyes peer up at the guy for a split second before returning to Sally. She must be expecting a 'hello' or 'nice to meet you' from me, but I cross my arms and squeeze myself. Brandon smiles at Sally, and Sally says, /"Alright. I'll show you around the back at how we organize the transfers. Brandon, you take care of everyone./"

I follow Sally through the back door and have one last look at Brandon. He's blonde and his hair is short and curly, he looks like a surfer and I immediately decide that I don't like him. He's too pretty. Everyone probably loves him and his body and his possible surfing skills, so I'm not going to. He has one of those smiles, one that makes girls feel special.

Sally talks on and on about the organization of the back room. My mind can't comprehend it all, and halfway, I lose interest. I saw the chair when I walked it. The red paint is chipped to heck and there's some rough blanket thrown over it and it's calling to me. /"Whenever we get new shipments, just take the boxes back here and put them in their slots. You're welcome to leave when you're on break to get coffee or whatever. Brandon's break is an hour before yours, so when he's gone you'll have to do the pressing. I'll have him explain that tomorrow though since I'm here today. We can head back to the main room and you can get comfortable talking to the customers./"

As soon as we reach the shopping area, a young girl and her mother walk in and Sally urges me to give it a shot. I clench my jaw and walk over, knowing I'll have to be nice. /"Hi, welcome to The Shirt Shack, is there anything I can help you with?/"

The woman smiles and looks at me, holding her daughter's hand. /"Oh, no. We're just looking./"

/"Oh, alright,/" don't be awkward, /"just let me know if you guys need anything./" I even throw in a smile and she nods. My chest is tight and I turn back to Sally, rushing over as if I'm currently in a war zone and behind the counter is a safe haven.

/"That was good. You weren't pushy and respected their space. I think you might be a natural./"

Sally's too nice. She'll encourage anyone even if they stuttered and tripped and forgot where they were when talking to a customer. I can tell she's not one to really criticize, only give sweet improvement ideas. /"Okay. Should I just keep doing that?/"

/"Yeah, oh, and I'll show you how to work the register./"

Brandon glances over at us many times throughout the day as Sally teaches me. I always look away when we accidentally make eye contact but find myself looking back again.

Sally sends me home after training and tells me to come back tomorrow at nine for my first shift.

On my way home, I walk past a group of teenagers, maybe a few years younger than me. One of them reminds me of Hunter, so I pick up my pace.

The night after my first kiss, the kiss on top of the boulder, Hunter asked me to meet him at the beach at midnight. I felt like someone edgy and rebellious since I had to sneak out of the house, and I eventually found him by the water. It was difficult since he didn't tell me anywhere specific, only the beach.