Hello, My Name Is Mr. Right... My Ass (Editing)

Chapter 1: Hello, My Name Is Jackass

Heyo! I just sorta came up with this idea. I know it may seem unrealistic at times haha but I'm just mainly using it as a 'writer-block-be-gone' story :)) But I really hope you all will like this as much as I'm enjoying writing this :))

 

Happy reading!

 

Kat :)

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Chapter 1: Hello, My Name Is Jackass

I carefully stacked the dirty dishes from table three and made my way to the back of the Dalton Café. I weaved in and out of the other workers and placed the dishes in the sink for Greg to wash. He gave me a small sigh as I threw them in. 

I walked back to the dining area when I heard a loud crash. I stopped dead in my tracks. That sound has been like my own personal theme song over the past couple of months that I've spent working at Dalton Café, the only place that would hire me. I tried to get any job that I could keep while going to school at Dalton Boarding School, but the Café was the only one that would take a girl with my work experience; which was nonexistent. 

I walked slowly into the open room and immediately found the source of the crash. Over near table five, there was a small family sitting and all over the floor there were several broken plates scattered around with its leftover food staining the carpet. I sighed knowing how long I would be stuck scrubbing the floor.

Chris, my boss, walked in on the scene and gave me a knowing nod. "Get on it, Cora." 

I sighed and got on my hands and knees and began wiping up the mess. Usually, I wouldn't take kindly to people telling me what to do, but I couldn't afford to lose my job. That meant no back talk from me. If I did lose my job, I would be screwed. I needed this job to pay for my schooling at Dalton Boarding School. Since I'm no longer allowed into any of the public schools in the city of Winston, my only hope of an education is by attending a private school which was located on the outskirts of Winston. It was more like its own community, really. But of course, it was a private school that my mother couldn't afford even when I was on a scholarship.

Seven months ago, I would have been more than happy that my family couldn't afford to send me to school. But that was before the fateful accident that stole my father’s life; tearing my family to shreds. His death was my fault. My mom tells me otherwise, but my little sister, Katie, and I both know that it was my fault. However, I didn't recognize that until months after. 

He was driving to Northrise High, due to a call from my principal telling my father to come and meet him for a conference about my academic performance and behavior. Driving to the school, a semi lost control and swerved into my father’s small Senatra. I didn't know it happened until after the receptionist, Ms. Davis, came in and informed Mr. Phelps about the crash.