Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Pizza n Stuff Lyric POV I insisted Wren leave instead of following me into our house. We might have known each other since middle school, but Wren had never been into our house. I prayed it remained so. You never know when my drunkard of an uncle would run out of money and return home. That meant he would take out all his frustrations on me, and I don't want Wren getting involved. Wren was a sweetheart; she would want to protect me and might get hurt. I don't want that. I would only have to protect myself from him until I turned nineteen. Nineteen was the goal. I went home, cooked, cleaned, and did the household laundry. Tired, after doing my assignment in mathematics, I lay in my bed, my mind fleeting at the events of that afternoon, after making sure my door was locked. Gavin had supported his girlfriend and kissed her in my presence. The boy I liked kissed another girl in my presence. It hurt like hell. I wanted to forget. The tears became bothersome; I don't want to cry over some dude. I would forget about him someday. Suddenly, I thought about the list Wren and I created at the beginning of this year. I had made zero efforts in making any of them come true, and now I truly don't want to. I would find someone better than Gavin, even though it felt like hopeful thinking. No one will marry me. One of my classmates back in high school had said only a disabled person could take me as a wife; if a 'normal' person did, it might be an old man or some pervert. Now, I might consider that. How could I think I could have a chance with Gavin, one of the hottest people at school? I'm such a dork. ## The next day at school, I avoided Gavin like the plague; I never wanted anything to do with him again. We did not have art class till the following week, and I was glad. During break, using my food card, I took food from the school cafeteria. The food sucked and it was tasteless, sometimes burned or partly cooked, but it didn't matter. I wasn't fortunate enough to order food from outside like others at school. Only the poor like me had to eat the food. The cafeteria had people eating several salivating meals while I had sort of mashed potatoes and something I hope was tomato sauce but had a darker shade. Like blood. An uneasiness swept over me at the thought of blood. I swallowed hard. One minute I found myself falling to the floor, my chest coming in contact with the mashed potatoes. Laughter boomed throughout the hall. I looked up to find Emilia wearing a yellow crop top showing her pierced navel and rocking skinny jeans. She was getting skinnier every day. "Look where you're going, bitch." She rolled her eyes in disgust and walked away. I watched her sashay her hips, with building anger in me. I only needed one chance to trap her down and whip the senses out of her pretty head. Stupid. Instead of fighting back, I got up and did the walk of shame to the bathroom. My reflection showed the stains caused by the mashed potatoes and sauce. All efforts to blot it off made it worse. What was I going to do now? Wren wasn't at school; something came up. My eyes twitched with tears, but I fought them. Not today. Nineteen is the goal. The day died down in a blur; people no longer gawked at my stained clothes anymore. They must have gotten tired of laughing. ## Arriving at work, I quickly changed in the bathroom into our waiter uniform. It was a white shirt and blue trousers. I never bothered with makeup, only my favorite strawberry lip balm as a final touch. "Hey, you're early today," Kelli, my boss, greeted me with her usual scowl. She and her wife were going through something, and she let it interfere with work. I had been working at Pizza n Stuff for two years now, thanks to the courtesy of Wren's father. No one was going to employ a mute girl as a waitress; it was financial suicide. So, finding a job was difficult when you could not even speak during the interviews. Luckily, I had this, though they paid seven dollars and thirty cents per hour. It meant a lot. I saved it to buy what my scholarship couldn't get me for school. Usually, I only serve the orders and not take orders, as I could irritate customers who don't want to read what I am writing down. As I stepped into the kitchen, the smell of fresh pizza was in the air, and my stomach grumbled for food. I had not eaten anything today except for a banana in the morning. I was hungry. The double doors opened, and a familiar face walked in. Sasha, the head chef, her blonde hair hidden in her chef's cap. She went on chopping ingredients like Houdini. Her face was red from the heat of the kitchen. Everyone kept busy while I aided with the machines by programming out the toppings for every pizza. The doors opened again, and Michael walked in. He pushed a bundle of written orders to my chest. Without sparing me a look, he barked, "Get going!" And I did. I provided the orders to Celina, and she helped me with them. I only had to take them to the customers. Luckily, customers weren't a bother compared to last night. I went over to the table, offering the brightest smile I could muster. I was to serve a woman and her infant son. Children under five are free, which meant she would pay for only her dinner. I waved at her, playing the pre-written greetings on my app. *Welcome to Pizza n Stuff, ma'am. Here's your order.* She sighed, rolling her eyes so hard I believed they would fall off. "Is this the new tragedy? Technology has made things easier." *Yes, ma'am,* the female American accent rang from the speakers of my phone. Placing her order on the table, I positioned her kid's next, helping him to cut his food into pieces. In an instant, a smile sprang on the lady's face. "Thank you..." Her eyes wandered to my name tag on my uniform. "Lyric." At her words, I felt my heart squeeze. I loved when I successfully communicated with any speaking human. It might feel strange for others, but for me, it feels like I hit a jackpot. Holding out my dominant hand, with my palms facing out, I waved slightly to sign <<You're Welcome>>. I loved Wren for her gift. A customer called me 'retarded' because I could not tell her that her pizza crust was crispy. She only wanted to hear me say it; when I used the app, she lost it and rained insults on me. As if it was my fault. At eleven, I heaved a sigh at the end of my day job. I signed out then went back to the kitchen; it was my favorite time. Eating! Working here meant I got access to all food people rejected or left half-eaten. Opening the fridge, I pulled out three slices of pizza with mushroom toppings. I hated mushrooms, but I had no choice, so I ate. I ate without even properly chewing; I was so hungry my stomach began creating acid caused by gastritis. Later, I wiped my mouth and drank a liter of fresh water from the fridge. Next, I washed the dirty plates and kept the kitchen clean before going home, with bags of all the uneaten pizza for the day. In the Spencer house, we don't lack pizza. I was sick of eating pizza every day for a month, then two years. But when life offers you pizza, you have to eat it. Lol.