One (11 page)

When she's done, Nat
steps back. "You really
do
have a pretty face," she
says as if it's hard to believe.

I shrug. "I guess
I hold make-up well," I say, studying my reflection. I look just
like me, but a little older. More sophisticated. I smile. Nat grins.

"Them bitches are
going to be more jealous," she smirks.

I hope not.
I
frown. "I don't want them to be jealous," I say.

She shrugs. "It's
going to happen." Nat starts to clean her make- up, spraying a
cleaning chemical over her brushes. "Where do you work?"
she asks.

"Maddie's," I
answer, glancing at my watch. Twenty minutes before work.

"Never heard of
it. I'll check it out sometime. Come and support you."

I laugh. "Thanks."

I don’t look at my
reflection any more. I'm ready.

The walk to Maddie's is
a short one. No one is on campus, probably because they're still hung
over from last night. I take my time walking around buildings,
enjoying the feel of the warm sun on my skin. Soon, the warmth will
be replaced with icy cold breaths that will numb rather than comfort.
I tug at the backpack straps over my shoulders, tightening them. The
pack is large on me, but then what isn't when you're only five feet
two?

Soon I reach Maddie's
and as always the bright sign is the first thing I see. I open the
door and let myself in. There are a few waiters moving about,
readying the store for the day. I see a few familiar faces, but they
don't stop to say hi. I'm not sure if they can't remember me or if
they just don't want to. Either way, I'm surprised I feel a little
hurt. I guess I'm really human after all. With an inward sigh, I head
through the black employee doors. The glossy wooden floors look just
as shiny as yesterday, and I am reminded of the tight ship that Anna
runs. I walk up the stairs and hear voices drift from the break room.

"…see her?"

"The new kid?"

I pause.

"Yeah. She's
eighteen, but she looks twelve… My kid sister has more curves than
her." Giggles follow that statement.

"She won't be
making good tips, that's for sure."

"You never know.
Some men like their girls to feel like little boys," a feminine
voice smirks. More low laughter.

I stand stiffly by the
door. Of course, the universe makes it so I walk right into a
conversation about me. When have I ever gotten a break from the
powers that be?

"…Alaina was
pissed
. You should've seen the glare she shot…"

"…he… stopped
by…"

"Who wouldn't be
though? Did you see his…"

The girls suddenly
stop, and burst into a fit of giggles. I decide it's my cue to enter.
Taking a deep breath, I push the door open, making sure the sounds
are loud enough to alert the two girls. I ignore their presence, even
when I feel their gazes on me. I walk to the other side of the room,
barely noticing the bright sunshine filtering into the space, golden
as a yellow daisy. I don't let out a breath until I'm inside the
changing room. Thankfully, no one is with me.

I stare at the
charcoal-colored lockers, reminding myself for the hundredth time why
I'm here. It took Grandma many years to cultivate a network of people
who could call her for work. Here in Madison, I'm a new face with no
connections, and no way of finding the type of work I used to do back
at home. I had no way to show people I was a hard worker. Anna was
the only person who took a chance with me. She's my only connection.
Usually I work hard so the owners would recommend me to other people.
Looking around me, I wonder if I'd
want
Anna to recommend me
to others, not if all the people she surrounds herself with others
that are like Alaina and the two girls I just witnessed.

I rub my forehead,
suddenly tired even though I haven't even started. Opening my
backpack, I take out a key and fit into the lock. Within a second, my
locker door opens, revealing clothes that are too big and memories
too humiliating to ignore. Alex told me holidays like Memorial Day
are the busiest of the year.
I'm going to work looking like a
drowned mouse today of all days?
I tuck a tendril of baby hair
behind my ear, and check the small mirror hanging on the locker door.
My face looks calm, smooth. It doesn't show the myriad of thoughts
and feelings I have. Maybe that's part of my "mystery".

I call it survival.

I lick my lips. I
refuse to show anyone here how insecure I feel. I'm a hard worker and
I'll prove them wrong. I'll prove to my destiny that I'm born to do
something more than have babies and grow old before my time.
Grandma's face appears inside my mind. Other faces rush to the
surface too, but I push them away, holding on tightly to her crinkly
eyes, and the stubborn square of her chin.

Quickly, I change into
the too large uniform. I brought a belt this time, well it's more
like a ribbon from one of the boxes I had. If I sucked in my stomach
enough the ribbon could go around my waist with a few inches left
over for a knot. I slip into the work pants, and hold my breath as I
slip the piece of fabric through the loops. Sucking in my breath for
several seconds, I tie the ends of the ribbon into a double knot
right over the pants button. I slip into the white blouse and
carefully button my shirt. The hems are as long as I remembered and I
slip the rubber band from my wrist off. I bunch the material to one
side and tie it loosely. I leave enough material to tuck the knot
inside. If no one looks closely, they'll barely notice the irregular
bulge sitting beside my right hip. I check my reflection one more
time, not because I care what I look like but it gives me another
second to ready myself for battle.

It might not be
that
bad today,
an optimistic part of me whispers. The words sound so
artificial and fake that the thought does more damage than good.
Forcing my stiff legs to move, I walk back to the break room. I'm not
even surprised that the two girls are still there. They look like
they've been waiting for me, although one pretends to continue
eating. I don't tell her that I can see her plate's been licked
clean.

"Hi," both
greet as I walk by.

"Hi," I
respond, trying not to notice how their skin seems to glow in this
light. I probably look sickly pale in comparison.

"You're the new
girl, right?" The blonder of the two asks me casually.

I pause. "Yes,
just started yesterday." I look toward the door as a clue to
them I'd like to leave. They don't take the hint.

"What's your
name?" the other one asks.

"Jules," I
answer, finally resigning myself to looking at them. I turn around
until I face them both. As expected, they're supermodel beautiful
with long legs that stretch beyond the table like the tail of a
lemur.

"I'm Stella,"
the one who asks for my name informs. She has a mole above her lip.
She's got the same blue eyes and blonde hair as her friend. They look
like twins.

"I'm Courtney,"
the other one offers, staring intently at my face. I nod politely
making a move to go.

"So, how do you
know Reid?" Stella abruptly asks.

I pause. "Reid?"
I repeat, confused. They continue looking at me, not saying more. I
want to shake my head at them, but I don't. "I don't know a
Reid," I finally say after several moments of silence. They
continue to study me as if they're not quite sure I'm telling the
truth. After another awkward moment, I decide to leave, making a move
to do so.

"If you want to
like working here, you should probably stay away from him,"
Courtney warns me. Her face is blank so I can't tell what she's
thinking or why she’s warning me about a guy I
don't know
.

"Sure," I say
and continue walking before they can say more.
What is
up
with these people?
I think irritably. Is this what city people
are like? They don't say everything on their mind? But as soon as I
think the question, an answer flitters into my head. Faces from my
past appear and I know this isn't a city thing. Some people don't
tell the whole truth. Some people work in the night and use the
darkness to hide who they are. My face hardens as I'm reminded of
what I came from, what I did. "If I survived
them
, I can
survive this," I whisper gravely to myself.

My worn tennis shoes
don't make a sound as I march down the stairs. I'm walking harder
than normal because I'm upset but the sounds I make are mere whispers
that don't travel very far. I see Anna up ahead, her black hair in a
perfect bun. I'm amazed that not a single piece of hair seems out of
place.

"Hi Anna," I
greet her from behind.

She turns with a start.
"Hi Jules." She frowns. "You scared me."

I shrug. "It's the
shoes," I lie.

Her eyes narrow a
little as she studies me, starting from my toes up to the pants that
hang on me like leaves on a willow tree, to my wide shirt, and
finally to my eyes. She seems happier when she glances at my face.
Maybe having Nat put make-up on me was a good thing after all. Anna
purses her lips as her eyes flicker over my body.

"You don't look
our best." I notice she uses the word "
our
best"
instead of "
your
best." She's trying to remind me
who I work for, and the image I should represent. Suddenly, I'm a
little angry. Is it
my
fault they don't have any clothes that
fit me?

"This is what she
gave me," I gesture to myself. "You don't have any more."

A perfect eyebrow
raises. "We don't have any more?" She smiles and it looks
like a lioness smiling right before it bites your neck. "We are
considered one of the fastest growing businesses in all of Wisconsin
with plans to go national within five years. We've served
businessmen, CEO's, politicians. We've even served the First Lady. We
work hard to earn our reputation, and not a single detail is too
small to consider. I've worked for this company for twelve years, and
I can assure you, we most certainly 'have more'." Her voice
never rises louder than normal, but I know she's angry. I feel it
emanate off her like smoke from frozen ice.

"It's what she
gave me," I say quietly.

"Who?" She
doesn't say it like a question.

I don't want to throw
Alaina under the bus, not even if she wasn't very pleasant for me.
I've always felt a camaraderie with other workers. It's like we're in
the same fight; we want the same things. The unwritten code is
never
snitch on your co-workers, even if they might deserve it.

"I don't
remember," I make my voice sound vague. "It was a girl."

"What did she look
like?"

I shake my head. "Don't
know," I lie. The truth is
no
one can forget what Alaina
looks like. The combination of red hair, alabaster skin, and emerald
green eyes are striking to say the least.

"You forgot,"
she repeats it like she doesn't believe me.

I think about Courtney
and Stella. "Some of them look very… similar."

Anna understands what
I'm trying to say. That quells her suspicions a bit. "I told you
Maddie's has very high standards."

And what am I?
I'm tempted to ask. I'm not naive about the way of the world. I have
my reasons for wanting to work here, and she has her reasons for
hiring me. Somewhere between us are benefits we both reap. I raise my
head higher as I remind myself about what a hard worker I am. I'm
hoping
that
will be something hard to replace.

"Let's go back up
there and find you something more suitable. You look homeless."
That insult doesn't hurt as much today since Alex already told me
yesterday I'd make customers lose their appetite.

I follow her,
obediently climbing each step toward the break room even though every
cell inside me wants to run the other direction. Courtney and Stella
are still lounging around, laughing about something that probably has
to do with me.

"Girls," Anna
nods her head towards them. Instantly their giggles cease, and they
straighten, blubbering greetings and avoiding eye contact like we
have the plague. Without making a sound, I re-enter the changing
room. Anna heads toward the back where I was with Alaina last night.
The metallic colored cabinets gleam more sharply this morning. Anna
rests her hands on the top.

"You're probably
an extra small," she says.

"Small," I
correct her.

She ignores me as she
opens the top drawer. I see several white blouses neatly folded.

"You're the only
extra small we have," she tells me. "Most of the girls are
more endowed."

Is that what it always
comes down to? My chest size? My face flushes a little. I remember
Nat's envy about my cleavage. I know they're not
that
small.
Anna picks up the first blouse on top and hands it over to me. The
tag reads extra small.

"What size pants?
One?"

"Three," I
say.

I'm not surprised when
she hands me a pair of capris in a size one.

"Why don't you try
these on? I'll wait for you outside."

"You don't have
to-" I start.

"I insist."
She turns to leave. It isn't until she's almost out the door that I
realize I should tell her about how I stapled the pants.

"Anna!" I
call out.

"Yes?" She
turns to look back.

I swallow my throat
nervously. "The pants were too long and I almost tripped
yesterday. I ended up folding each leg and stapling the folds,"
I confess softly in the quiet room. Her brown eyes are wide and
unblinking. She doesn't speak for a full minute.

"Stapled?"
she finally breaks the silence. "You walked around with
stapled
pants on yesterday?"

"No one knew,"
I'm quick to say. "We were only serving customers for a few
hours." Like five.