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The next day was Thursday. I went to school and took part two of that dreadful exam.
"Don't worry," my teacher said, "Part one was the hardest. The worst is over."
Thank the Lord.
That's when I decided I would never, ever become a mathematician.
I went to the Cook n' Brooke after school, because I was working that afternoon. I work every day over the summer, and I worked Tuesdays & Thursdays during the school year. I was closed every other weekend, so I also worked every other Saturday.
I walked in at 3:17. I dropped my bag in the lounge, collected my waitress apron & notepad and went to wait on table 27.
I knew they always played music in the restaurant, but just now I realized that all they played was music from the restaurant staff. I heard Brooke's "Free," David's "Declaration," David Archuleta's "Crush." It was all mix CD's Brooke put together, I guess. As I was taking orders from table 19, the song switched. I knew at once what it was. It was a song I wrote & recorded in Brooke & David's recording studio. It was called "Thank You," and it was written for Brooke & David to thank them for everything they'd done for me. I just recorded it for fun. After delivering orders to the kitchen, I charged to the Lounge.
"Uh..." I told Brooke, pointing to the ceiling.
"The song?" she asked, "you sound great."
"Why is it playing?" I demanded.
"Well, the music we play here is all from our employees, and you happen to be an employee, so I decided to include a few of your songs," she replied.
"It's nothing special," I said, shrugging.
"You sound great," Brooke assured me, "and it's special to me. It has sentimental value."
That was the most wonderful thing I'd ever heard. Brooke alwas made me feel good.
I hugged Brooke and went back out to wait on table 87.
"What is this song?" a girl at the table asked me, "I've never heard it before."
"The song?" I asked nervously.
"Yeah, who is this?" she asked, "I really like it."
"Oh, her name's Eliza," I told her, covering my nametag with my arm, "and she's singing at the next karyoke night."
"Really?" the girl asked.
"Yeah," I replied, "you should go!"
"Can I, Mom?" the girl asked her mother, "I love karyoke night!"
"Me too," I told her, smiling, "me too."
"Don't worry," my teacher said, "Part one was the hardest. The worst is over."
Thank the Lord.
That's when I decided I would never, ever become a mathematician.
I went to the Cook n' Brooke after school, because I was working that afternoon. I work every day over the summer, and I worked Tuesdays & Thursdays during the school year. I was closed every other weekend, so I also worked every other Saturday.
I walked in at 3:17. I dropped my bag in the lounge, collected my waitress apron & notepad and went to wait on table 27.
I knew they always played music in the restaurant, but just now I realized that all they played was music from the restaurant staff. I heard Brooke's "Free," David's "Declaration," David Archuleta's "Crush." It was all mix CD's Brooke put together, I guess. As I was taking orders from table 19, the song switched. I knew at once what it was. It was a song I wrote & recorded in Brooke & David's recording studio. It was called "Thank You," and it was written for Brooke & David to thank them for everything they'd done for me. I just recorded it for fun. After delivering orders to the kitchen, I charged to the Lounge.
"Uh..." I told Brooke, pointing to the ceiling.
"The song?" she asked, "you sound great."
"Why is it playing?" I demanded.
"Well, the music we play here is all from our employees, and you happen to be an employee, so I decided to include a few of your songs," she replied.
"It's nothing special," I said, shrugging.
"You sound great," Brooke assured me, "and it's special to me. It has sentimental value."
That was the most wonderful thing I'd ever heard. Brooke alwas made me feel good.
I hugged Brooke and went back out to wait on table 87.
"What is this song?" a girl at the table asked me, "I've never heard it before."
"The song?" I asked nervously.
"Yeah, who is this?" she asked, "I really like it."
"Oh, her name's Eliza," I told her, covering my nametag with my arm, "and she's singing at the next karyoke night."
"Really?" the girl asked.
"Yeah," I replied, "you should go!"
"Can I, Mom?" the girl asked her mother, "I love karyoke night!"
"Me too," I told her, smiling, "me too."
