Chapter 2

                                    

                                          
"I need an order of eggs Benedict asap!!!" Jodi yelled out from across the expo counter. 
I forgot how goddamn annoying it was that she yelled out the orders nearly every two minutes.  
We already know the orders! Every single order that got rung in came through the ticket machine in the kitchen. It was a very specific buzzy-beeping sound that haunted my dreams. 
I glanced at Dylan, the other line cook, and we rolled our eyes. Why did I come back here? I guess it was: go with the devil you know than the devil you don't.  
I sadly picked up right where I left off a little over a year ago. When I left this place for my dream gig at one of the best elementary school districts in Poughkeepsie. 
Now I was sweating my ass off, preparing breakfast for half of Poughkeepsie in a kitchen without any air conditioning. If Donna, the older woman who owned this place, didn't pay her staff so fucking well, I would have never come back here. The hours were okay too, 4 am prep to 2 pm-close. I at least had the majority of my afternoons and evenings free. 
Well, not free exactly. I have been mailing out applications every night like a madman. 
One upside of coming back to work at Scramblers was the unyielding inspiration to get the hell back out of it. Nothing motivates me more than the mere thought of spending another year of my life getting yelled at by Jodi. 
"Sharp behind!" Called out Dylan as he walked past me to get to the prep station. I kept my head down and focused on the flat-top grill before me. I was juggling the timing of about 13 orders, and I refused to get a single one wrong. 
Once 11:30 rolled around, the morning rush was finally over. There were still a decent amount of customers out in the dining space, but the line at the door was finally gone. I quickly wrapped up an order, placed it on the expo, and rang the bell to let Kristi, the waitress, know it was ready.
I pulled off my black latex gloves, wiggling my fingers and appreciating the feeling of fresh air after wearing them for the last 7 hours. 
"I'm taking my 10, Dylan," I called out. I didn't even bother to check if he was good with that because he rarely ever was, and I left out the back door. I took a deep breath of hot summer air and ran my hands through my hair. 
I was suffocating. 
Literally and figuratively. 
My god it was hot as balls outside. 
I had only been working here again for three weeks, but it felt like three months. It was almost the end of June, and I could only feel the dread of spending the rest of the summer here swallowing me up like a sinkhole. I took another deep breath and pulled out my phone. Wanting to check my email. Maybe a school administrator was about to come to my rescue. 
What I found were 17 missed calls from my mom. 
Shit. 
My heart starting to race for a whole new reason. I hit the callback button and began to pace. It rang three times before I realized I wasn't breathing, waiting for her to pick up. 
When I heard the familiar, "Hi, my handsome boy!" I felt my soul climb back into its body.
"Mom! What the hell is going on!" 
"Language."
"Sorry," I rolled my eyes, "Mom, what the heck is going on!! You called me 17 times! What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong; I just needed to talk to you," she said as if she hadn't given me a heart attack a few seconds ago. 
"About what?" I questioned. Trying my fucking hardest to remove the frustration from my voice. She was the woman who gave me a chance. It was literally the least I could do.