"You must be, Miss Lone. I'm Josh Ratchet, but you call me, Mr. Ratchet," a man said, as I walked in from parking my bike.

Yes, I did ride a bike everywhere, even though I was turning 17, but it was because my family was poor, or as what my dad called it being "financially challenged".

"You can call me Joes and it is nice to meet you, Mr. Ratchet," I said, politely.

"Good manners. You will make a great server," he said, nodding his head.

Mr. Ratchet looked.... sharp. He looked sharp because his black hair was straight on his head, his clothes looked freshly ironed, and they weren't ruffled. His blue eyes had the look of someone important, like he wanted to do something other than introductions.

"I'll work anywhere you place me."

"Good answer. Now, Shannon Chin will show you around, where you are to change, and everything like that," he said as a girl, maybe in her early twenties came over to us. "And make sure, you wear jeans, that have no holes in them, in the future, please." He glanced at down at them before looking up at me, a frown on his face.

I looked down at my jeans and blushed, feeling self-conscious. "I'm sorry. I didn't... have time to repair them."

"Get to work," he said and then he left.

"Don't mind him. He is a good man," the girl said. "I'm Shannon Chin, by the way," she said, holding out her hand.

I took hold of her hand and shook it. "I'm Joesylin Lone, but most people call me Joes."

She smiled. "Come on, let's get your size and uniform," she said, starting to walk to the back.

I was uncomfortable. I didn't have any money to pay for anything, and I didn't know if it had to be bought. "Do we have to... buy it?" I asked, again feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"The shoes, yes, but the rest of it is free. Why?"

"My family is poor. All the money goes to pay food, house, and medical bills. My father was the only one working for the money."

"Was the only one?" she asked, looking at me.

"He left or something during the night the day before yesterday. I worked "odd" jobs, but that didn't help any." I shrugged my shoulder, not really knowing what I had to say.

We walked in silence into where they had the uniforms.

"Here we are," she said. "Now what size are you?"

The uniforms were black shirts, khaki pants, and black topless shoes, with small heels.

"I don't know what size I am," I replied honestly.

"You don't?" she asked doubtfully.

"The pants are hand me downs from someone, and they were too big so... I just sew them up to fit."

"Do you have shorts?" she asked as she walked around me.

"They're a little baggy but yes, I have some on," I replied, confused.

"What is your height?" she asked. I looked at her confused. "How tall are you?" Silence. "For Pete's Sake, have you ever been measured?"

"Nope, don't even have check ups."

"Seriously?"

"Money went to med bills for my sis, and I never got sick."

"How bad is she?"

"Was she. She was pretty far off. She died when I was eleven. It was her seventh birthday."

"And you are...?"

"Sixteen, turning seventeen. The day after her death is my birthday and two days after my birthday is my mom's."

"What was the date of her birthday?"

I looked away, sadly. "Her birthday was October 26. Mine is October 27. And Mom's is the 29. It was the worst birthday ever."

She was silent as she pulled a pair of khakis out of a stack and held them up to my waist. "Here, try these on," she said.

I looked at them and went into a stall. I unzipped my pants, took them off, and then placed the new ones on. They fit.

"Let me see, please."

I stepped out of the dressing room.

"Turn around."

I turned around and rolled my eyes.

"Hmmm," she said, looking at them and then at me.

"They fit so..."

"You get to wear them. Now, it's time for the shirt and shoes," she said as she got a shirt. "Try it on," she said holding it up to me.

I sighed sarcastically and went back into a stall. "I don't like trying on for size," I said, pulling off my sweatshirt and my T-shirt.

"Why not?" she asked as I pulled my head into the shirt.

"People give me "looks" when I go to malls and stuff," I replied, coming out with my clothing in one hand and boots in the other, leaving me in bare feet.

"Why?"

"They think that I'm gonna steal something."

"And do you?"

"Nah, can't bring myself to do it." I looked at her, frowning. "You thought I did. Didn't you?"

"Well... ya."

I cussed, shaking my head.

"You better not let Mr. Ratchet hear you use that language." She wagged her finger, teasingly. "He doesn't like it when people cuss."

I sighed. "What are we going to do about the shoes?"

"They're $25. Here, I'll pay for them," she said, pulling out the money. "Here," she said handing it to me.

I backed up, shaking my head. I didn't want to take her money. It wasn't right. "I can't take that," I said still shaking my head.

"You have no choice."

"I don't want you to do it."

"You won't be able to work. 'Sides I help people," she said, grabbing my hand and placing the money in it. "Don't even think about protesting."

I closed my mouth, cutting off the protest that I was about to do. "I-I don't know what to say," I said, stupidly.

"A thank you would be great," she said, grinning teasingly.

I smiled and nodded my head in thanks. "Thanks... I've never met anyone as stubborn as I am except... for my father," I said, looking around to place the money for the shoes.

"You place it in here," she said, holding an envelope labeled "shoes".

I placed the money in there and got the shoes that seemed to fit. I placed them on and looked at Shannon, wondering what to do now.

"And now... you work."