Screw that. I’m going to make it on my own. I’m going to college. I’m going to be free.
But I need a job, fast.
I swallow the tiny amount of pride I still have left and turn back to the manager. “Look, I really need this job. Please. I’ll wait tables. I’ll wash dishes. I’ll do anything you want. Just give me a chance.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, crossing his arms. “We’re not hiring right now.”
Oh sure. Except for the NOW HIRING sign on the window outside. Rage flares inside me and I clench my fists. No one will give me a chance. Is it my age? My tattoos? My brown skin? What the hell is wrong with me?
The manager takes a step back, and I see a flash of fear cross his face. He’s scared of me, of the anger in my eyes, of the ink on my arms, of the way my fists ready for a fight. I know I can take him, easy.
And the worst part is, I want to.
I’m jerked out of the moment when the woman at the other table raises her voice. “This is not what I ordered.”
The waitress looks at the plate and then back at the woman, as though the words don’t translate. “Bacon cheeseburger with coleslaw, right?”
“Yes, but this burger is completely wrong. Where are my onion rings? And my salad?”
“I’m sorry, what did you order?”
The woman huffs. “I ordered a—”
The words pour out of me before I can stop them: “A bacon cheeseburger without mayo, with mustard, no tomatoes, Swiss cheese instead of cheddar, extra avocado and bacon, onion rings instead of fries, and an extra side of coleslaw. Plus an order of the mixed green salad with no tomatoes, and a Diet Coke with no ice.” I stop to take a breath, and then I add, “And he ordered the blue cheese burger with a Sprite.”
Everyone’s staring at me now—the manager, the waitress, and the couple at the table. Even a few people across the restaurant. Eyes wide, mouths open, suspicion and shock creasing their brows. I know these looks. I’ve seen them before.
My face burns, and I wish I could take back everything I said, redo the entire moment. I spin around and head for the exit before they can say anything.
A blast of heat and sunshine hits me as I step outside. I wanted to show them I could do this job just as well—if not better—than they could. But like a pendeja I let my anger get the best of me and proved to everyone in there what a freak I am. And the worst part is, I’ll never forget this moment either.
Because I never forget anything.
The doorbell rings at 8:34 p.m. I stare at the green numbers on the clock, while Katie reads out loud from her homework. The doorbell doesn’t mean anything. It could be a salesman or a neighbor. But I know better. Sudden arrivals in a foster home are never a good thing.
“Elena, you’re not listening,” Katie says as she looks up from her Spanish textbook.
“I am.” I tear my gaze away from the clock and force a smile. “You’re going to the ‘discoteca.’ Keep reading.”
We’re huddled next to a flimsy desk light because the bulb overhead is out and no one’s bothered to change it yet. Not that there’s much to see—two twin beds crammed into a room not much bigger than a closet with one dresser between them. It’s obvious our foster mom once put some effort into decorating it with lavender walls and fluffy, pastel pillows, but a steady stream of rotating kids has worn the place down. At least with the light out it’s harder to see the stains in the carpet, the fraying edges of the sheets, or the peeling paint around the windowsill. Still, I’ve lived in worse places. And I only have to survive this one for another two months.
Katie though, she’s only fourteen. She has a long way to go before she gets out. I don’t know who will take care of her when I’m gone. Not the Robertsons, that’s for damn sure. They try, but they’re stretched thin enough as it is. Not the other girls living here, who pick on Katie for being tiny and having hair so pale it’s almost silver. Or they used to, anyway. I took her under my wing when she came here a month ago, after her mom OD’d on drugs. No one messed with her much after that.
Katie’s kind and smart, and the system hasn’t worn her down yet. I pray it never does, but who am I kidding? It gets to us all in time.