I discreetly slip into my room to get ready to apply for my third job... I know this will eat into an extra quarter of my classes, but it’s not like I have a choice.
Waitress in a restaurant and now in a nightclub.
I contemplate, slightly depressed, the corner of the wardrobe that I occupy—and my clothes are not suitable for this kind of situation—before mumbling:
“I’ll have to draw on Mel’s wardrobe.”
I don’t like this solution, but do I have a choice?
When I open the door, I’m greeted by laughter: Chris and his friends are playing at a console while laughing like whales. I shake my head. Real kids. Without them being aware of my presence, I sneak into my sister’s room.
I get a pair of leather pants, the skinny kind, shiny enough to give me nausea. My morale is still down a notch. O
