Finally Me ~

Chapter 70

**Alex's POV** 

 

"How was it?" 

"Uhhh," I sink into the lounge and put my feet up, "well, I got to pierce a mannequin's ear with a needle." 

Mum looks up from her book with a raised eyebrow. 

"I thought you had hair today?" she asks. I shake my head. 

"Had that yesterday," I yawn, "I'm beat. I wish it wasn't so far away." 

After finishing Hogwarts I started a beautician's courses. I get to learn how to put make-up on, cut and dye hair and shove needles through people. I'm pretty sure there's a spell for all of those things, but I don't think I could get away with performing them on Muggles. 

"Do you have work tonight?" 

"Yeah, I have to go in ten minutes," I sigh, checking my watch. 

"Better jump in the shower then." 

I drag myself off the couch with a groan and stumble down the hall to my room. It's only been six weeks since we finished school, but I still haven't seen Fred. I started my course and working only a few days after school finished and I've been so busy since then. And, of course, Fred is busy with the joke shop. 

I have a quick shower and pull on my work uniform. Black shirt, black shirt, white apron. I pull my hair into a ponytail and grab my keys, heading out to the lounge room where Mum is reading. 

"I'll see you later," I say. 

"I'll save you some dinner." 

I walk out and get into my car. It's not mine really, it's Noah's, but he's off travelling for a few months, so he lets me use it. 

I pull out of the driveway and turn the radio on. You're probably wondering why I don't apparate. Well, there's nowhere in a five block radius that's safe to apparate and I don't have the time to walk far anyway because I'll be- 

"Late," Megan, my boss says, "second time this week." 

"Sorry, traffic was hectic," I say, grabbing a notepad and a pen and walking out into the restaurant. There's a family who have just been seated and I sigh. They come here every Friday night and the kids are brats. They usually end up running around the restaurant screaming while their parents finish their meal. We tried telling them to sit down, asking their parents, but it always ends with their parents storming out without paying. Sadly, Megan has decided we can't afford that, so we just have to put up with it. 

"Hi, can I take your order?" I ask. The Father ignores me and keeps looking at the menu, which is silly, because he'll order the same thing as always. Pasta with meatballs. The Mother looks up and me with a sigh. 

"Can we get a jug of lemonade, please?" she huffs as if she's been waiting hours. I write it down and wait while she asks the children what they want. 

"PIZZA!" the oldest screams, jumping up on her chair. The other two copy this. 

"Three kid's pizzas," their mother says calmly, "I'll have the lemon salmon." 

"I'll have the pasta with meatballs," the father says, handing me his menu, "and could you make it fast, we've been waiting a while now." 

"Sure," I say, forcing a smile, despite wanting to hit him across the head with his menu. I walk back into the kitchen. 

"Order up!" I hand the order to the head chef, Charlie, who sighs. 

"Horror family here, huh?" he asks, "don't pity you."