chapter tws: Alcohol Implied neglect/abuse let me know if im missing anything Effie Effie stood as the bell rang, stuffing their unfinished worksheet into their bag and practically ran out of the classroom, Mx. Schyler yelled “remember to do your homework this weekend” as they darted out the door to their locker. They opened the locker door, grabbed their skateboard, shut the locker, and made a mad dash for the door. As they walked outside the school they took a deep breath and exhaled, then walked down the concrete staircase.They rubbed their face before setting down the board and beginning the journey to their house. One block away from their house, they stopped and hid their skateboard inside a bush. They walked the rest of the way to the house, hugging their arms to try to hide from the chill winds. They fished the key to their house out of their bra. It was the only place they would put it since they weren’t allowed to have a purse and things were constantly being stolen from bags at school. They unlocked the door, unphased by the overwhelming scent of alcohol. Inside there were beer bottles littered all around and a quiet stillness that gave the impression of something wrong. They were adopted by the owners of the house when they were 13, but after about a year of living with them, their “parents'' just got worse and worse. It started with random outbursts of anger, or guilt tripping, but it got worse and worse until there wasn’t any trace of the kind people who had once welcomed her with open arms, now replaced with a woman who smoked a pack or two of cigarettes a day and a man who was constantly drunk or hungover. Effie walked up the stairs, careful to not make a noise so they wouldn’t wake their “father” and turned the corner and walked into the small room that was barely big enough for a bed. They threw their bag onto the floor and flopped onto their mattress for a brief moment before sitting up, grabbing their bag, and getting their math homework due in a few days time.
~-~ A few hours passed before Effie knew it. The alarm on their phone, which was so old it barely worked, went off, signaling that it was time for them to go to work. How a 17-year-old mess of a person managed to get a job at a cafe they did not know and they weren't going to test their luck. They stood up and stretched, before walking to the blanket pinned up, acting as if it were a door. They quietly walked out of the household, careful to avoid any wooden plank that might creak and wake the slumbering man on the couch, who was with no doubt going to wake up to a hangover. They carefully unlocked the door, flinching a little when the deadbolt came undone with a little “click.” As soon as they were outside, they took a deep breath and sighed in relief. They were out. They walked up the block, pace quickening a little with every step, until they reached the bush in which their skateboard was hidden. They fished the board out of the shrub, hand lightly scraped from the small thorns tearing at their hands. They hissed in pain before setting the object on the ground and setting off, towards the bustling area surrounding the suburbs. They rode until they reached a small building, painting on the front window reading “Clementine’s” in neat handwriting with designs swirling around it, leaves and flowers poking out every now and again, giving it the illusion of vines. They stepped off of their skateboard, and entered the cafe. They walked towards the employees lounge, left their skateboard propped up against the wall (why their boss let them Keep it there was a mystery for the ages) and grabbed their apron off of the wall, and tied it onto their waist. They fixed their posture before going out and clocking in. They waved to their boss, who was at one of the registers, and their friend who was making a drink in the back. Xanthe, their boss, waved back, but Bo didn’t see them, and xeir hands were preoccupied preparing the drink so a wave back wouldn’t be possible. They took their place at one of two empty registers and a customer appeared almost immediately, listing off at least twenty things that they wanted for their drink. Effie typed the instructions onto their small tablet-thing (they had no clue what it was called) and told the customer the grand total, $30.76 with tax. The customer exclaimed that that was an outrageous price for a cup of coffee, and Effie calmly replied that all of the add-ins had caused it to cost extra. The customer got red in the face and demanded to speak to the manager. Effie sighed and walked over to Xanthe, who had just given a person a drink. “Yo, Xanthe, someone wants to talk to you” Effie said, slightly embarrassed. Xanthe sighed, and walked over to where Effie was stationed. “What's the problem?” She asked in her politest customer service voice. “Well, this witch said that my coffee would cost over $30!! It’s outrageous!!” “That's a lot of money for a small cup of coffee! May I ask what exactly you ordered?” Xanthe asked, false cheer piping out with every word. The customer explained their order exactly while Xanthe was checking that Effie had put in everything correctly, and after making sure that they had, Xanthe broke the news to the customer. “I’m sorry ma’am, but with everything you added, it does indeed even out to that.” “What?? I demand to speak to your supervisor!! The owner!” “You’re talking to her” “What? No way” “Yup. This place is mine” “Well then can’t I get a discount or something?” “No.” The lady was growing visibly angry, while Xanthe’s face was dropped in a way that suggested annoyance without showing any real emotion. As the person left, Effie thanked Xanthe and waved the next customer over. It was Saturday. Of course it was. They stood for a moment, staring at each other, before Saturday ordered a tall iced caramel latte and a strawberry scone. Effie nodded, before saying “That’ll be $7.60.” It was Saturday's turn to nod. She handed Effie a 10. “Keep the change '' Saturday told them, voice quiet. Effie hurried off into the back to make Saturday er drink. They skillfully prepared the cold beverage and got a strawberry scone from the pastry shelf and placed it into a small bag. They walked to the edge of the prep area, where a little yellow sign that said “Pick Up” in that same font was painted on the front of the store. “Saturday!” Effie called out. The young girl walked over to them. Effie extended their hands and saturday took her items. “Thanks” she muttered, looking down. E left the store in a hurry, biting her lip. Effie rolled their eyes, and got to a cash register and the next person in line came forward. As they ordered a pumpkin spice latte, Effie took a deep breath. This was going to be a long shift
