Chapter One
CJ-----
"Corey, I'll catch you later!" I yell to my roommate but the door is already shut before I even hear a reply.
I rush down the small hallway filled with the smell of fresh paint. Not that it matters. This place is still a dump and an extra coat of paint won't cover that up.
The cold breeze rips into my face as I reach the exit. Flurries of snow are just starting to land, making the parking lot a slush of brown ice and water.
Storm, the beat-up black car, is frozen over. At the rate she heats up I end up fifteen minutes late for work at the restaurant. The Fry Shack was deserted, as usual, but that didn't stop Mr. Frank from tearing me a new one.
"Late again, CJ?" Frank questions.
"Frank, I can explain."
"Not today CJ. There's always an excuse with you." He scolds as his glasses slide down his big nose. "One of these days you are going to draw your last straw with me."
I mouth a thanks in his direction for sparing my job while running towards the break room. The aroma of french fries invades my senses and my stomach growls in response. It's an unfriendly reminder that breakfast managed to elude me while I was rushing to get to work. I reluctantly grab the red apron and head towards the register.
People file in and out throughout the day and their only concern is getting the correct order. I have much more on my mind especially this contest I'm entering. If I win, it could be life changing. I could leave this dead-end job and start my magazine company.
"If you have time to stand around, you have time to clean and this place isn't going to clean itself. Take out the trash CJ." Frank orders.
The trash bag is almost as big as me and I struggle to haul it to the kitchen exit. Rob, one of the cooks, stops me before I reach the door.
"Why do you let him talk to you like that?" He asks as he pulls the large bag from my tiny hands. He stands over me at about six feet but when you're only 5'4 everyone is taller than you.
"Rob, you know why." I sigh.
"Because you need this? C'mon CJ, you know you can do better than this crappy job." He whispers. "Unlike the rest of us, you have a chance to leave this hell hole."
Rob has been here for a few years. The fry shack is one of the few places that would hire him given his past run in with the law.
He does have a point about me though. This job is one of the worst places I have ever worked. I stay because its where my mom used to work when she was a teenager. It's one of the few places that still reminds me of her. Other than needing the extra money, that's the only reason I'm still here.
"I know, I know. I'm working on it."
He looks at me quizzically.
"I promise I'm working hard to get out of here." I reiterate.
"Alright." His finger wags at me. "I want to see your name on the newspaper rack."
"Magazine, you mean."
He only smiles as the kitchen exit closes behind him.
It's almost one in the morning before we close the restaurant. The parking lot is deserted so I hurry to the car, eager to get out of the cold.
Something grips my shoulder and pins me to the car. My face is pressed against the glass.
"Take whatever you want!" I scream.
"Thalia."
The voice sounds weird and distorted. I struggle to break free from the tight grip on my shoulder. My feet kick behind me in hopes that my foot will connect painfully with flesh or bone.
Suddenly, the pressure on my shoulder is gone. I quickly spin to face my captor but no one is there. The parking lot is void of all life, all except my own.
I quickly find my keys and jump into the car. Storm squeals when the engine turns over but I ignore it. She swings out of the lot so fast that the car hydroplanes on the wet parking lot. The only thing that calms me when I reach home is the sound of the locks sliding in place after I throw myself inside.
