Hope It Gives You Hell

It was really a pointless job. You stood around doing nothing until someone ordered, then you started running around like a chicken with its head cut off, because people always came in groups. It's quite ridiculous, actually. Oh, the life of a bowling alley snack bar attendant.

My friend, Liz, and I always work together. We're a package deal, you might say. That's why we got employed here, i guess. I mean,. the request is quite reasonable, you'd think more places would have accepted us.

Tonight was no different from the rest in terms of most of the customers. I say most because things got a little crazy when the moon came up. And I don't mean werewolves.

"Is it just me, or did that impeccably large group seem to appear out of no where?" Liz asked as she was attempting to fill three cups at once. I looked up from the fryer where I was probably making about seven orders of chicken tenders and brushed my stray hair from my face.

"Uh, yeah. Randomly showed up." I agreed, blowing at my hair again. We always got signed up for the busiest nights, and my hair always made me look like a total bum who can't fix her hair right.

"Okay, this is crazy. I'm gonna go take those three lanes their stuff, and I'll be right back to help with the pretzels, okay?" Liz said hurriedly before fleeing the scene of my exasperation. I sighed once more and then went back to my work before hearing some coughing at the counter.

"Hold on a moment!" I called, then I put the bazillion chicken tenders on a tray, brushed off my hands and attempted to pull my hair behind my ears, and met the new customer.

"What can I get you?" I asked the boy and girl in front of me. The boy was really tall, with a girl-ish figure and long, brown hair, while the girl was about average height and had almost black hair and long bangs. The boy spoke up.

"Weeeeellll… I think we should get six Mountain Dews, three Dr. Peppers, four Sprites and a Pepsi. Wait, change one of those Mountain Dews to a Sprite, Pete doesn't need that kind of energy in public." He said really quickly. I stared at him for a moment, a little shocked he could talk so fast, then blinked and looked down at my paper.

"Is that all?" I asked after I repeated back the order.

"Yepp." He nodded his head violently, and I stared a bit more before setting about getting the drinks.

"Uhh, we CAN bring them to you." I said after they continued to stand in front of the counter.

"Oh, right. William, let's go." The girl laughed. Then I recognized who they were. Hmm, I'm a bit stupid today. I got most of the drinks done when Liz came back.

"Good god! These people are freaking insane tonight!" She cried, throwing one tray down and picking up the other I had previously finished. She came back quickly after delivering the second tray of food.

"Those people are insane? William Beckett just ordered fourteen drinks like it was no big deal." I laughed, handing her one tray of finished drinks and grabbing the other. Liz began to laugh for a moment before a look of pure shock crossed her face. "Yes, dear," I continued, "I did say William Beckett. And he DID deny Peterpanda a Mountain Dew, so we're safe for now." We walked over to the end of the lanes where the partial DecayDance crew was hanging out, Liz mostly following me in a trance.

"Your drinks?" I stupidly put a question mark at the end of my statement when we set the drinks down, the shock finally registering. William laughed at me and grabbed a green bowling ball, obviously up next.

"Thank you very much miss… whatever your name is since you don't wear name tags." He stared at my shirt as if searching for something with my name on it, and it WAS a little awkward.

"Sarah, and that's Liz. Au revoir, and have fun!" I tried to hurry away before I did anything else stupid, but I should have known my hurrying would cause an international incident, or so it seemed, because I hit a chair, then tripped over a cord and fell. Straight into Gabe Saporta's lap, with half the people around and Liz laughing at me.

"Falling for me already?" He asked with a cocky grin, arms around my waist from catching me.

"Falling on you. I'm sorry." I jumped up, apologized quickly and hurried back to the snack bar before I looked even stupider.

"GOOD GOD I'M STUPID!" I whisper-yelled when we finally got to the snack bar, throwing a towel across the kitchen.

"I thought it was funny." Liz teased, sticking her tongue out at me.

"You would. YOU didn't fall into a freaking rock star's lap because you're a freaking klutzilla." I shook my head and then turned to the front counter where there were a couple people waiting. Fortunately, they just wanted drinks or a pretzel, because I was a shaky wreck after what I'd done. Eventually, someone ordered two hot dogs, and I sent Liz to the fryer to make them. I sighed and leaned my back against the front counter.

"I still say it was falling for me." I heard behind me, which made me jump and spin around quickly. Gabe Saporta was staring down at me, laughing to himself.

"You would." I rolled my eyes and turned away, but he put his hand on my arm and I froze.

"Oh stop it. I swear, whatever tabloids and people say, I'm not as big a man whore as you think. I just like to flirt." And to demonstrate, he started to raise his eyebrows suggestively toward me. I closed my eyes and shook my head, pulling my arm from his reach.

"I dunno what you're going on about, but what can I get you?" I re-opened my eyes and went back to my semi-perky job stature.

"You can get me your friend's number." I stared for a moment at him, then he started laughing again. "For my friend. Patrick seems really into her, but he's too big of a stupid pansy." I started laughing with him and wrote it down on a napkin, handing it to him. "Wait, aren't you going to tell her?" he continued.

"Nah, we'll surprise her." I said. Then I continued, "She's only, um, in love with him. She won't mind." He nodded with a smile and slipped the napkin into his hoodie, then continued to stand in the same place and stare at me intently.

"How can I be of service to you?" I asked, seriously confused. His smile evolved to a smirk.

"Actually, you could service me." He winked. I sighed and leaned against the counter, my chin in my hand.

"Lack of originality much?" I asked.

"You were asking for it." he replied.

"Seriously mister Gabe, what else do you need?"

"Your number."

"Excuse me?" Wow, that came out a little more intense than I intended.

"Uh… do you have a boyfriend or something?" He asked worriedly.

"No."

"Then what's the problem!" He cried out.

“The problem is it's illegal.” I replied. Someone was waiting behind Gabe, so I pushed his shoulder to move him to the side and helped the person behind him. Once I'd finished, I turned back to him to resume our conversation.

“Patrick asking for Liz's was perfectly fine.”

“Okay. It's MORE illegal.” I was starting to get a little frustrated with his attempts, but I still wanted him to win.

“Who cares? It's only illegal if we-”

“What are you doing up here Gabe?” Michael Guy Chislett was currently walking up, questioning his friend. He, too, began leaning against the counter, and I sighed again.

“Trying to get a pretty girl's number.” Gabe replied, raising his eyebrows at me suggestively again.

“Oh yeah. So pretty.” I said sarcastically. I had burned my wrist when working with the fryer, so it was swollen and red, and my hair was a total mess. I was definitely the epitome of pretty at this point.

“Glad that you agree. Now what do you say you give him your number now so we can resume our game?” Michael asked hopefully.

“Don't count on it.”

“How about so he'll leave you alone?” He continued.

“Sold.” Gabe smiled wide and watched as I wrote on another napkin and handed it to him. He pocketed it immediately.

“Glad to have done business with ya.” He semi-saluted me before smirking and walking back to his friends.

“Did I hear that conversation right?”

"Yeah. You just didn't see aaall of it." I replied with a smirk on my lips. Definitely not as stupid as I look, or seem to be.

"Sure."

"Fake numbers are your friend, remember that."