Lizzie (![]() ![]() @ 2011-08-25 23:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | !type: thread, -2011: august, character: brittany pierce, former character: lizzie clabots, ~complete |
thread; Lizzie and Brittany at the diner
Date: 8/25, around 7 pm
Characters: Lizzie & Brittany
Location: The diner downtown
Summary: Lizzie's taking a break from busing tables.
Was there anything less glamorous than clearing other people's dirty dishes from cheap fake-wood tables, wiping them down with a rag, and then bringing the whole disgusting mess back into the dish room? Lizzie certainly didn't think so, and although she could say honestly that she'd never received any flak at school for her job in her father's diner, it didn't make her feel any less ashamed of it. Every day, she hoped that no one she knew would walk into the diner, but every day they did. Even if it wasn't a classmate, it would be some old pal of her father's from his high school days who would greet her by name and try to engage her in conversation. As if they really wanted to be talking to some girl who was busy scraping the eggs someone didn't want into a tub. It was mortifying to do this kind of work, and Lizzie could only thank her lucky stars that Coach Sylvester never came into the place. What on earth would she think?
"Daaaaaaad, I need a break!" She whined this in the general direction of the kitchen every so often, but she still hadn't quite picked up on the fact that when she didn't do it, her father was more likely to tell her to sit down for twenty minutes or so and relax with a cup of coffee. This time, though, her father raised his thinning blond head and nodded. "Sure, honey," he said absently. "Dinner rush is over anyway." Though she was surprised at the response, she didn't argue. "Oh my God, thank you, Dad." The reply held little of her usual pep and energy. She was too tired and too busy looking around to ensure that no one saw her to bother fronting. Lizzie got herself a Diet Pepsi from the fountain and slid into an empty booth toward the back, still wearing her apron. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, allowing herself to sink into her thoughts. God, she couldn't wait until her father let her waitress. That wasn't nearly as embarrassing as busing.