corsages | embry call

one

CHAPTER ONE

'enough'

LUCY RICHARDSON WAS TIRED; it was a heavy exhaustion that settled upon her fragile shoulders, and she could barely manage the weight.

All her life consisted of was work, school, work again, and sleep. Lucy could barely remember anything else. Days sometimes blended together, only separable by sharp gasps and tear-stained cheeks every morning as she woke up. It was only due to the small, purple calendar gifted to her by her Aunt Joy that Lucy could keep track of what day it was and which job she had to show up for.

Currently, Lucy was finishing her Thursday evening waitressing shift at Winnie's Cookery, and she could hardly stand on her feet. Her bruised fingers itched to untie her dirty blue apron and her eyes wandered over to the small, antique clock hanging precariously over the entrance.

Sighing tiredly with relief at the 7:45 presented, the teenager softly encouraged herself with ten more minutes. Ten more minutes until she could leave, sleep and wake up at 5 tomorrow morning to make her shift at the local gas station before school. Another sigh escaped her downturned mouth, full of bone-deep weariness and heavy resignation. It sounded miserable to her own ears, and she wasn't surprised when her co-worker turned to her in concern.

"You alright, honey?" Lucy liked Wanda, the thirty-year old daughter of Winnie herself, and accepted the friendly clasp on her shoulder.

"I'm okay, Wanda, thank you." Lucy replied, feeling her feet ache with a throbbing pain from standing too long. "I'm just tired."

Wanda squinted at her in disbelief. "Well no wonder you're tired, honey! Three jobs, school and driving your old man around? I don't know how you do it, hun." Wanda squeezed the teenager's shoulder in warm compassion, but continued more seriously, "you're over-working yourself, Lucy. You're gonna to burn out."

Lucy refrained from snidely retorting that she couldn't afford to burn out or take a break. That she had no choice but to work all the time and run herself into exhaustion. Truthfully, Lucy wasn't sure how she did it. She assumed that it was because there wasn't a choice, this was a necessity. So, plastering on the fake smile she wore at all of her jobs, she quickly reassured, "I'll be fine Wanda, I just need some sleep."

Wanda didn't look convinced, and had scrunched her eyebrows in a disapproving expression, ready to scold her, when both workers were called to serve. Lucy hurried off to her section, thankful for the escape, and retrieved her pad and pen from her apron pocket. Her plastic smile still set, she diligently took the table's order, trying her hardest to ignore the grins sent her way by three sleazy, old men.

By the time Lucy dragged herself to the kitchen and placed the order, her shift was over. The teenager sat in the backroom for a moment, untying her hair from the tight bun it was once confined to, and gently massaged her throbbing head. She had to leave now in order to start on the mountain of homework sitting in the backpack at her feet. She had to do not only tonight's homework, but yesterdays, and the day before and before. Lucy often found herself falling asleep while doing it, face pressed into papers on pens on her desk, which meant she was always behind.