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I have to work.
No one is at the mall, with the game going on and all. After a while our manager says David can go home, and I’m alone with creepy George. At least I’m wearing shoes with maximum concealment tonight. George goes back into his office for most of the night.
He comes out to help me close up, and I wonder how he can be sweaty when he’s just been sitting in his office all night. I try not to laugh out loud as I imagine asking him. Daria would actually do it. She’s irreverent in every sense. She wouldn’t hesitate to ask anyone anything, no matter how personal. And she’d do it in a way that made him want to answer.
After we close down the register, George turns to me and clears his throat. “Can I see you in my office?”
I shrink inside my puke-orange shirt. Maybe he’s going to flash me—or worse. I’m creeped out being alone with him at the counter, and his office is ten times worse. He sits down at his desk, leans back, and looks me over in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what this is about,” he says.
“Yeah,” I say, glancing at the door, looking for an escape.
“Our assistant manager is moving on,” he says. “I was thinking of offering David the position.”
I nod. It’s the right choice. David works hard and probably actually believes our drinks do everything they claim.
“Then again, we could always use a bright young girl like you in one of our management positions,” George says. “If you were willing to go that extra mile.”
Extra mile? I try not to laugh out loud. I wouldn’t go an extra inch for him.
But he keeps looking at me with his slithery eyes until I’m too uncomfortable to even find humor in his comment. I’m probably overreacting, just like last time. The guy may be a creepy old pervert, but I’m pretty sure he’s a harmless one.
“You know, Sky, a pretty girl like yourself could find lots of opportunities in this company. But we’re looking for someone who’s willing to go above and beyond the call of duty. Someone who doesn’t mind doing a little something now and then beyond what’s written in your job description, for the good of the company. And we just haven’t seen you prove that you’re willing to do that. Tell me, have we not given you the opportunity for growth?”
“Uh, sure,” I answer, wishing my voice didn’t sound so meek.
“We just want you to understand why we’re promoting David over you. Unless there’s something you’d like to explain, or you think you need another chance to prove yourself?”
I can’t seem to shake the idea that he’s saying more than his words are. Does he really think I want to be an assistant manager of Juice King enough to blow him? Or am I just being totally paranoid?
I decide on the latter, since I don’t want to be an assistant manager at all. I shake my head no and back out of George’s office. Even if he’s not making some weird sort of advance, he still makes my skin crawl. I’d rather be on one of those TV shows where the contestants are covered with cockroaches than have to work more closely with him.
I’ve never been so glad to see my mom, though my joy is dampened a bit when she tells me that we’re going to my cousin’s lake house over winter break. It used to be something big and exciting to look forward to—flying to Arkansas, driving up to Firefly Lake, and spending a whole week with Meghan.
Now it’s just an hour’s drive to the place, and once we’re there, it will be filled with the ghosts of things I keep locked up tight in the box inside my heart. There was the night with Chase on the shore of course, but more than that, the weeks we spent there when I was growing up. Christmas at the lake is an Eden family tradition.
Now I don’t even know if we should call ourselves Edens. Isn’t Eden supposed to be a perfect paradise where nothing goes wrong, not the name of a liar and a fraud?
Mom seems excited about it, though, and I don’t have the heart to bring her down. She lost him too, after all.
And then, a thought rises unbidden to my mind, proving I’m just as evil as he is. Because in that moment, when Mom is all smiles, I remember Lindsey’s advice on parental manipulation—wait until your parents are in a good mood before you ask for things.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat. “Is there any chance I can get un-grounded before then?”
I avoid the term “house arrest,” which is what I call it to my friends and myself. If I know it’s wrong to do this, and I go ahead with it anyway, does that make me as bad as Dad? Did he ever feel guilty about what he was doing? Or did he live the lie of his double life so long it just became his everyday life?
Mom purses her lips. “I guess after Christmas break is over, that would be a good time to let you have some freedom. Just don’t abuse the privilege, okay?”
I was hoping for a little sooner, but I know I’m already pushing it. My punishment could be way harsher.
“Okay,” I say, slouching in my seat, resigned to having my social life squelched before it can really begin.
Mom chuckles at my tone. “What is it you’re so anxious to get out there and do?”
“I just want to go to the basketball games. No parties, I promise.”
“Well, if it’s a school function, I’m sure we could make a few small allowances.” Mom starts humming along to some Britney bop, which means she’s definitely in good spirits. I decide not to push it, and I do a little happy dance inside my head, promising myself that I’ll have to do something nice for Lindsey in return for her sage advice, no matter how guilty it makes me feel. It works.
