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“You okay, Rowena?” Charlie, the box boy, frowned at her from across the kitchen, red hair a strange orange color under the lights as he paused from stacking cans of tomato sauce on one of the supply shelves.
“Yeah,” she shouted back over the clang of silverware being dumped. “What time are we off tonight?”
“Eleven thirty.”
She swore. Too late to catch her favorite show, then. Charlie shrugged. “Jim and I are having a few friends over tomorrow night,” he said.
“What time?”
“Seven.” A tomato sauce can fell, and he grabbed it before it hit the floor. Straightening up, he called, “I told Carlos we wanted next Wednesday off.”
“Why?”
“Jim’s birthday.”
“Oh yeah.”
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“No!” Rowena flipped her ponytail again, irritated. “Sorry, it’s not your fault. Carlos has been running me off my feet, and—”
“Giles!”
Rowena and Charlie turned to see an exasperated-looking Carlos, the restaurant owner, standing in the doorway, looking as if he were in a great hurry in a suit and tie. “I told you to take out the trash! Hurry it up!”
Rowena bit back a comment. I like having a job. I like having a job. “Right.”
“And make sure the silverware is put up before you leave, right?”
“Yeah. Okay. Have fun on your date.”
Carlos flashed her an annoyed look before heading back into the main area of the restaurant. Rowena sighed and turned to Charlie, who grinned. She rolled her eyes and dried off her hands, then hung up her apron and went to the pile of recycling near the back door.
“Don’t get lost,” Charlie called jokingly.
“I won’t.” She waved without looking back, tucking boxes under her left arm and pushing the door open to be met with cold air and the all-concealing darkness of a stormy city night.
The rain wasn’t cold, but there was so much of it that Rowena could barely make out the trash heap. Her clothes were plastered to her frame, and dark hair streamed into her eyes. She stopped and tried to make sense of where she was. The street light overhead was sputtering, and it added an eerie glittering effect to the millions of raindrops falling ceaselessly, battering the sidewalk in a flood of molten silvery darkness. She turned around and fumbled in the dark for the doorknob.
Locked.
Rowena beat on the door. Maybe Charlie would hear her. No, she could hear the noise of the restaurant within, and with the new load of dishes, there was no way. She dropped one of the boxes, and it slid down the steps to land in a giant puddle.
Wonderful. Groaning, Rowena went back down the steps and picked up the soggy cardboard. Lightning flickered overhead, and she saw the trash heap. No wonder she couldn’t find it before—it had been moved several meters to the right, away from the streetlight. She headed toward it, thankful that the restaurant was fenced in—even though no one was likely to be out on a night like this, the fence made things much safer.
The rain had soaked her thoroughly by the time she reached the trash heap and tossed the boxes on top. She felt like she had drowned and come back to life—she couldn’t even wipe her face because her hands were wet.
Thunder rumbled overhead, quite loudly, and the street light made a funny fizzling noise. Rowena belatedly realized how close she was to the light pole as thunder ripped through the rain and darkness above her and she felt a surge rush through her body. She wondered why she could suddenly see every single drop of rain, all glittering spheres of brilliant blue, suspended in the air like so many jewels. She felt the world fading as she joined the eternal dance of the rain in a blaze of blue light.
Ivy