“You still have boxes packed.” She nudged one with her foot. “I’ll print out some of the photos I’ve been taking for you. I mean it’sno wonder you don’t smile much. Reading Jane Eyre and having walls in such a basic beige color? I’d be sad too.”
I gave her the best smile I could. Because we both knew it wasn’t the color of my walls or the book I was reading that made it hard for me to smile. And I loved her for not bringing up my mother. “You ready to go?” I asked.
“Yup.” She was still staring down at one of the boxes. “Do you want me to help you unpack when we get back?”
My first thought was to say no. But it was Friday night. Didn’t normal teenagers hang out with their friends on Friday nights? For just a few hours maybe I could forget. “That would be great.”
“Awesome.” She tucked her arm in mine and guided me out of my small bedroom.
“Thanks for getting me this job by the way," I said. Kennedy worked for a catering company and had hooked me up with the gig. My uncle insisted that I didn’t need to work. But I’d shown up unexpectedly on his doorstep a few weeks ago and I didn’t want to put him out more than I already had. So I was going to help pay the rent whether he wanted me to or not.
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s basically an extension of school. Walking around with trays handing out appetizers I can’t pronounce to the city’s elite. Plus there aren’t any tips. But I swear it’s better than waitressing. Waitressing in New York is awful because everyone waitresses here. From aspiring actors to writers and everything in between. The turnover is insane. Before I got this job I’d worked at a dozen restaurants. I hate being expendable.”
“Trust me, you’re not expendable.” I, for one, wouldn’t know what to do without her.
She squeezed my arm as we made our way outside. The air was definitely growing chillier by the day. We huddled together and wound our way through the crowded sidewalks. We barely knew each other but I was already comfortable with our bouts of silence. I felt closer to her than I had to any of my friends back in Delaware. Maybe because instead of being there when things got hard, they just stared at me like they pitied me. And Kennedy knew what loss felt like. My uncle had told me she’d lost her dad when she was little.
“Are you going to tell me about the sneakers?” Kennedy asked. “Because I saw some more shoes in one of your unpacked boxes. Without the holes.”
“My mom gave them to me.” I kept my voice even. I’d already gotten emotional once today and I needed to strengthen my resolve.
“Well, I think they’re cute.”
“Thanks.” It was the perfect opportunity for her to ask more questions, but none came. I was pretty sure her mother had given her the low down and told her she wasn’t allowed to ask. But if I was going to talk about it with anyone, it would be Kennedy. “I miss her,” I added.
“I think remembering is better than missing.”
I’d heard “I’m sorry” more times than I could count. But never that. Only someone else who lost a person so significant could understand. “What do you remember about your dad?” I asked.
“Who knew your uncle was so gossipy?” she said with a laugh. “He’s always so quiet.” She looked up at the sky. “My dad and I liked to watch the clouds together on the roof of the apartment building. And he always smelled like cigars. I love the smell of cigars even though I hate smoke. I smile so hard whenever I smell them. Do you remember your dad at all?”
“No. I never knew him. My mom said he left us as soon as he found out about me.”
“What a dick. Well, your uncle is the complete opposite. He’s the kindest man I know, even if he is a little gossip. You’re lucky.”
I didn’t feel lucky. I barely knew him at all. But he’d let me live with him when I had nowhere else to go. That was kindness if I ever saw it. I needed to make more of an effort to get to know him. I added it to my endless mental list of ways to not be a nuisance to him. “So what’s the party we’re catering tonight?”
“Some old rich guy’s birthday I think. Who cares. In three hours we get to have a girls’ night.”
We stopped outside a hotel I’d never heard of. I went to walk inside, but Kennedy tightened her grip on my arm.
“We have to go around back,” she said.
I laughed, but stopped when I saw her face. “Are you serious? Like…the servants’ entrance?”
“No. Like the staff entrance. What era are you living in, the early 20thcentury? Come on, I’ll show you.” She pulled me past the hotel and down a dingy side street. The unseen side of the hotel looked practically run down. A rusty door stood ajar, allowing a cool breeze into the unairconditioned staff entrance.
I glanced back at the main street. There were women in floor-length gowns and men in tuxes walking toward the hotel. I was wearing holey sneakers and a black apron and I was about to enter through a door that looked like it was from a horror movie. I was used to being poor. That wasn’t new to me. But I’d never been surrounded by people so ridiculously wealthy. I’d never felt so out of place in my life. This city. These people.
“I promise it’s not that bad,” Kennedy said when she caught me staring. “They treat us like we’re invisible. All they see is the delectable appetizers we’re dishing out.”
Invisible.We were definitely the untouchable ones. But with Kennedy by my side, I didn’t even mind. I’d rather be untouchable with someone like her than clad in a fancy gown with horrible people like Isabella. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with seeing her again until Monday.
“And the best part is that there’s usually leftovers that they divvy up at the end. Your taste buds are about to explode. And technically it’s not takeout. So it’s Brooklyn approved.”
Fancy food didn’t necessarily correspond with healthy food. I could imagine butter slathered on everything so it would taste better. My chest hurt just thinking about it. Or maybe it hurt because I wanted to go home. Not back to the tiny apartment with my uncle. Home home. The home I no longer had.
Untouchable - Chapter 3
