Chapter 2 Ice cream is good for the soul

“Hey, girls!” Donna says cheerfully from behind the counter as we push open the door.

“Hi, Miss Donna!” Sophie cheers as she walks up the counter and sits down on a stool.

Don’s Place, the local hang out place and good food. The one place that seemed to exude warmth and love to everyone who walked into the diner. It’s owned by Don and Donna, husband and wife who are some of the friendliest people in the entire world.

“How was school today?” Donna asks with a smile as she starts to prepare a sundae for the both of us.

“Good, I got an A on my math test,” Sophie says as she starts to swing her legs.  

“Knew you were going to ace it,” she says as she sits the ice cream on the counter. “Now, have you thought about my offer?” she asks me.

“The hours won’t interfere with my school schedule?” I ask as I watch her add all the good stuff to the sundae.

“Darling, you make your owe schedule. I want you to design advertising and marketing,” she laughs. “The better you do at getting new people in, the better your commission.”

A month ago, I had spent the afternoon holed up in a corner booth drawing. It had started with random objects outside until what I was drawing had been things inside. Donna had been refilling my soda when she saw what I was drawing. She let out a laugh as I was drawing my basket of fries.

Her original offer, ‘You know, that’s very good. Add some color and a little post about it being our special, and it could be an add.’ I had laughed her off. Her reply, ‘No, I want you to draw me a better advertisement ad.’

It then shifted to, a week later, ‘You’re young and know more about social media. I want you to run the social media accounts and make up weekly advertisements.’

“I won’t have to work as a waitress?” I ask for clarification. This has been nagging at me to clarify. I don’t want to be a waitress or cook for that matter. Add that to why it would be cliché.

“Darling, I don’t want you to be one, unless you decide that is what you want to do,” Donna laughs. “I have enough help running around here.”

I look up and see two other waitresses bustling about the small diner. “Okay, I will get you a couple sketches by the end of tomorrow,” I say as I snag the spoon from Sophie. I take a bite as she protests.

“I will get you the different passwords and usernames for our accounts,” Donna nods as she walks off.

“You sure?” Sophie asks as she takes a bite.

“The drawings will look good in my portfolio for college,” I say simply. “Plus, this will also show that I can do good with marketing.”

“Aunt June will be disappointed that you didn’t talk to her first,” Sophie says as she inhales the rest of our ice cream. For a kid who said that we weren’t supposed to eat sweets before dinner, she ate almost the entire sundae.

“Aunt June isn’t in charge of me,” the lie coming out to fast.

Aunt June is in charge of me, at least until I graduate from high school. At least that is what the judge said at the court hearing after mom and dad died. Now we live with our aunt in a small city in the Appalachian Mountains on the border of Virginia and West Virginia. We’re not cut off from civilization, but it sometimes feels like we are. Delivery trucks being the only outsiders that regularly visit.

Sophie and I are the only new people to move to town in the last five months. We moved in with Aunt June at the end of the school year last year. Thankfully we had missed the last few days of school, so we were not the new kids at the end of the year.

But it had been a lonely summer for Sophie. She had no friends in the new city. Sophie did become somewhat of a friend of our neighbor’s grandson whenever he visited. He was a year younger than Sophie.

Now we’re into September. School is into it’s second month. Britney has decided to make my life a nightmare. I did nothing to her. I showed up the first day of school and that was enough.

“How much do we owe you?” I ask Donna as she walks by with a few drinks to deliver to a pair of truckers.

“On the house since you accepted my offer,” she dismisses.

I role my eyes slightly. I do not want charity. I pull out a five from my phone case and set it on the counter. I know that the sundae is a little less, so this will cover it.

“Let’s scoot, kid,” I say to Sophie.

She gets off her stool and states, “Bye Miss Donna.” She takes a deep breath and shouts, “Bye Mister Don,” who is undoubtedly working in the kitchen.

“Bye kido,” we hear come from the kitchen.

The few people in the diner laugh at us but Sophie doesn’t care. She just runs past me and out the door.

I swear that girl has ADHD, just not diagnosed. No, don’t get the young kid therapy after our parents die. Just get the angsty teenager into therapy.

I look up at the sky as I exit the diner. The clouds are darker now.  “We may have to run, if we don’t want to get wet,” I mutter.

Sophie nods her head and starts sprinting towards Aunt June’s house.

I jog after her. It’s a twenty-minute walk from the house to the diner. But running, we can cut it down to around ten depending on how fast we actually run. If I sprint most of the way, I can get there faster, but that would mean that I would leave Sophie behind. I just hope that we can get home before it starts to pour.

Sophie let’s out a squawk as a big rain drop hits her smack dab in the center of her forehead.

“Shit,” I say as one hits my cheek. Of all the days I decided to bring home my expensive sketch book. It’s a very nice sketch book, one of the last things that mom gave me before she died. If it starts to pour, my bag will offer no protection. “Faster,” I say as I start to run now.

Sophie tries to pick up the pace, but she smaller and younger. Not to mention, she’s been running since we left the diner.

More drops are coming down now. We are still a few minutes from home.

“Please hold off on raining,” I beg the sky. I mainly ask so my sketch book doesn’t get ruined, but part of me doesn’t want Sophie to get sick.

“Need a ride?” a male asks, as he slows his car down as he comes up beside us.