She's my Fucking Daughter! I Have to See Her!, chapter 8

***An hour earlier***
***Nobody's POV***

I live everyday as if someone's watching me. It's a little weird, but, it's true. I live everyday as if there were a camera hidden behind every Green Day poster and drawing up on my wall. That's why I get dressed in the bathroom.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't wash my face last night so my eyeliner was smeared all over my face. I wiped it off as best I could. I pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt. I threw on my Black Sabbath hoodie.

It's old and tattered. There's a hole in the left elbow. It belonged to my father. He gave it to me right before he left. Ever since I found it in my mom's closet when I was five, I've worn it everyday. I couldn't last night, though because my mom wouldn't let me. I don't know why, so I just threw on my black one.

I walked out of the bathroom with freshly applied black eyeliner under my eyes. My mom's friends are always making jokes about it saying that it looks like I have two black eyes. It acctually scared my grandmother the first time I wore it in front of her. She thought Mom punched me. My mom hurts me, not physically though.

I walked into the living room. I guess she has to work today. She's a waitress at Swamp Mama's during the day, but at night, she's headliner. My mom has a beautiful voice. It's not high and shrilly like alot of women's. It's a little lower. Perfect for jazz. That's exactly what Swamp Mama's is. A jazz restaraunt. The pay isn't all that great but we get by.

I walked out into the garage and looked at my watch. 10:30. Shit! I'm already late! I hopped on my bike and rode down the road to the Circle K. I work there. Well, I don't really work there officially, but, my mom's friend works there. She knows that Mom and I are struggling so she lets me work behind the counter and pays me five bucks an hour. Mom can't afford to give me an allowance so, it's basically easy money.

I hopped off the rusty, old bike and put the kick stand down. I ran inside. "Nobody!" Debbie yelled behind the counter, "You're late!"
"I know, I know," I said, "I went to a concert last night and it was really late when I got home."
"Excuses, excuses," she shook her head, "Old Lady Cratchet is gonna have your ass if she finds out."

Debbie's not my mom's friend. Old Lady Cratchet is. Debbie's my friend. The one and only. She's a little older than me, though. About seventeen. She likes Green Day almost as much as I do. Debbie's pretty. Alot prettier than I am. She's got blonde hair that she neatly puts up in a ponytail on top of her head, blue eyes, and freckles. She has the whitest teeth that you will ever see. She's pretty tall, too. About 6'1".

I hopped behind the counter as Debbie handed a customer their change. "Have a nice day,"she said as they closed the door behind them, "Asswipe."
"You've got a pretty big mouth, Deb," I said.
"So?" she said, "How was the concert last night?"
"Awesome! I got an autograph from Billie Joe."
"Are you serious?!"
"Yep. It was the drawing of him that I showed you."
"Cool. Did he like it?"
"He said he did. But he frowned when I said that my name was 'Nobody.'"
"Well, it is kind of a depressing name. Do you ever get tired of people calling you that?"
"No, not really. I'm just sort of used to it."
"Oh... So, how hot was Tre last night?"

I laughed. Debbie's obsessed with Tre Cool. You can't blame her, though.
"He took his shirt off."
"Augh! Oh my fucking God! Really?!"
"Yep."
"Scale of one to ten?"
"Twenty."

We're always rating stuff. From how hot Green Day is to how gross the mole on Old Lady Cratchet's nose is.

Cratchet's not really old. She's in her early forties. But when you're young, thirty's old. So to us, she's a dinosaur. She looks like one.

Old Lady Cratchet might be in her early forties, but, she looks like she's eighty. Her hair is white and she wears a small pair of glasses on the end of her nose. Her skin is wrinkly and she has a cane. No matter how nice you are, she always gives you a certain glare. She squints and sticks her lips out at you. It's pretty weird. Well, I guess she's not all that mean, I mean, she did give me this job.

A man put a Coke and a pack of cigarettes on the counter. I looked up at him. He wore sunglasses and a Jack Skellington beanie. Who would wear sunglasses inside? He looked a little familiar. "Have I met you before?" I asked.
"Probally not,"he said. He smiled. I recognized his voice from somewhere. I just couldn't place it.

I looked out the store window. A black BMW sat in the parking lot. I swiped his credit card. "Is that car yours?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, "That's my baby." I handed him his stuff. "Thanks," he said and walked out.

I turned to Debbie. "I think I know him from somewhere," I said. "He looked a little familiar to me, too,"she said.

I went through the rest of the day as I usually do and rode home on my bike. I couldn't stop thinking about the man at the gas station. I just know that I know him from somewhere.