Monday, June 26th, 2017. 10:18 A.M.....
*First draft*

I lean forward a few extra inches to the right, clicking my tongue a few times to get Miss Frizzles to look at me again. I'm rewarded with her immediate attention, and I snap a few more pictures with my Nikon camera.

Holding the camera away from my face, I quickly flip through the thirty or so pictures I've taken of the same model this morning.

My white Turkish Angora with her favorite tiara and a stack of pearls in front of her, one blue eye and the other brown.

Who wouldn't think that'd be worth as many photos as humanly possible?

"Nicki!" A voice calls from downstairs, sounding on the verge of slightly miffed. "Get your butt down here and help me load the vehicle or else I'm taking your cheesecake!"

I gasp, my eyes widening.

No, she wouldn't.....Only I know for a fact, and past experiences, that she would.

I pull my camera strap off, laying the device delicately down on top of my dresser. Crouching down next to Miss Frizzles, who currently looks like she could care less about any stinking cheesecake at the moment, before I remove the tiara from her head. I stroke the area between her two ears a few seconds, also grabbing the stack of pearls.

"Sorry, Frizzles." I shrug. "We'll have to cut our camera shoot off early." I stand up, looking down at her as I cock my hip to the side. "Does say....ten tomorrow morning work for you?" I question, feeling a smile tug on my lips.

Miss Frizzles, being the attention seeker she is, meows softly at the fresh attention I'm giving her, gazing up at me with her large, crystal eyes that look almost too fragile to be real. I stroke her head a few more times, then I turn, grabbing my purse before I head to the door.

I look back over my shoulder at her. "Duty calls." I give her a salute, vaguely wishing she'd be able to appreciate, and return, my sense of humor. I shrug to myself, practically skipping out from my room and down the short hallway.

Stomping down the stairs louder than necessary like a five year-old instead of my very mature seventeen year-old self, I jump to the floor when I reach the last one, moving forward towards the kitchen. I reel back when Mom abruptly appears around the corner I'm currently trying to also take, just barely missing the stack of boxes she's lugging around in her arms.

Thanks to my awesome ninja reflexes mind you.

"Oops, sorry Mom." I move past her, aiming for the last stack of boxes on the middle counter of our kitchen. "You're sorry?" Mom calls back, her voice fading a bit as she continues to the front door. Carrying the boxes out from the kitchen, her voice quickly picks back up in volume.

"-I'm sorry I thought you were an elephant coming down the stairs." She chuckles, and I roll my eyes before playfully sticking my tongue out at her back. She glances back just in time to catch me before I can hide my immature act, her eyes immediately filling with humor.

"Well maybe if you didn't have to be so loud I wouldn't be calling my own daughter a elephant." She jokes, stashing her boxes in the back of the open trunk to her Ford SUV as I come down the few brick steps at our front door.

"That, and maybe if you didn't eat so much cheesecake." She adds as I place my boxes next to hers in the trunk. I fake gasp, holding a hand up to my face in mock horror.

"Are you saying I'm fat?" I look down at myself, pretending to examine every inch of my body. She laughs out loud like that's the most ridiculous thing she's heard all morning, which it probably is, moving to go lock the front door.

I smile, walking the few feet to the passenger side of the vehicle. Opening the door, I load myself in before slamming the door shut. Mom reappears by the drivers side door, opening it up before she too climbs inside. She shuts the door, her keys jingling together as she moves them to start the vehicle.

"Please, Nicki." The car rumbles to life, and she reaches back to pull her seatbelt on around her front. "You and I both know that's the exact opposite." She checks her rearview mirror as I buckle.

I pat my flat stomach, giving her a large smile as she pulls out of the driveway. "True dat. But I think you're just jealous I can eat as many deserts as I want without paying for it later." My smile turns cheeky, and she wryly shakes her head after glancing over at me.

"Alright, alright. I relent." She smiles, and I pump my fist in the air. "Score one for the daughter." I cheer, making her more than likely roll her eyes at my immature, albeit funny, response....again.

A comfortable air settles in around us as we sit the rest of the way in silence, our destination a mere five minutes from our house.

Living in the small city of Colby, Kansas with a rough estimate of five thousand residents tends to do that for you.

Five minutes later, and a lot of complaining on mom's part when I repeatedly switch radio stations, she pulls up into the parking lot of her very own diner located just one minute from Main Street.

The building itself has a old, retro look about it. One that I love to death and wouldn't change at all. It gives it a....unique and old fashioned air about it that seems to draw people in. And of course, it has the family name.

Knight's Diner.

She parks in the closest parking square to the building, shifting to park before she pulls the key out of the ignition. Without a word, we both step out of the vehicle, shutting our doors behind us as we both make our way to the back like we've been doing this my whole life.

Which we have, actually. I was born in Ferndale city, California. Mom's lifelong dream was to open her very own diner that she could own on her own, and that opportunity came to her when I was six. So we packed up, left everything and everyone we knew, and headed this way where she'd found a affordable building she could convert into her own business.

And here we are today, almost eleven years later, and doing better than I think we ever have.

Mom gazes at the building as we walk up to it, boxes in our arms, a spark of pride in her deep almond eyes as she, more than likely, thinks back on everything she's done to accomplish her dream. The sweat, blood, tears, and all that loveliness.

Mom pushes the swinging door open with her left shoulder, holding it open for me as I walk into the first small room. It's more like a comfy waiting room if we happen to be completely full inside.

Two red sofas around the bend in the wall, a few country photos hanging around, and a stack of magazines on a coffee table.

Mom then leads us through the last door that's propped open, a blast of air conditioner hitting us as we pass underneath the door frame. We come into the main restaurant, and my eyes take it in like I wasn't just here two days ago.

It's set up so there four rows of booths in a line to the right of where I'm currently standing, clear glass panels with that retro design on them separating each one. There's a half circle counter to my immediate left with bar stools going around it. Behind the counter is the drink station while, through a door, there's the kitchen.

A large African American man walks out from the kitchen so he stands behind the counter, a large smile immediately lighting up his face at the sight of us.

"Cutting it close there aren't you, girls?" He leans his forearms down on the counter, giving us a playful smile.

"Hey, Ramon." Mom and I both greet the sous-chef, smiles of our own on our faces.

Ramon has that typical 'big' look to him you'd associate any chef with. Though don't ever tell him that to his face. He likes to insist it attracts the ladies to him. He's in his late forties, bald, and has one of the most sweetest and caring attitudes, besides my mother, I've ever met.

He's basically a big, cuddly teddybear.

Mom places her stack of boxes down on the counter, and I do the same. We both walk behind the counter, retrieving our specific aprons off the hook against the wall. I pull the red fabric over my neck, quickly and expertly tying the back while Mom does the same.

I smooth the fabric down at my front, sweeping my shoulder length blonde hair up into a ponytail. Ramon carries some of the boxes back to the back, whistling a tune to himself.

Mom glances over at me with a raised eyebrow, and we both chuckle.

I straighten my name tag that's pinned to the left of my apron, grabbing a small notebook and a pencil from a stack in the corner before tucking them in the apron's front pocket. I glance down at the small leather band that holds a watch on my wrist.

10:25 A.M.

Five minutes to opening time.

Mom sets her signature chef hat on top of her head, giving me a smile before walking back to the kitchen.

Alright, bring on the customers.

*Time Skip*

"Hey, Mr. Fisk." I greet as I stop by his booth, placing the mug down in front of him before pulling my notepad out. "Here's your black coffee. Do you want your usual, or something different today?" I question, peering down at the old man before me.

He's a usual customer here. A kind man in his late seventies whose wife passed away two years ago. 

"Miss Nicki." He gives me a nod. "Lovely to see ya today." He smiles, the wrinkles on his face growing more prominent. "No. I believe I'll try somethin' new today." He decides, moving a old and wiry hand to grip the coffee mug. "And thank ya." He looks up at me. "Glad ta know someone around here who can remember what I like without me needn' to tell them a hundred times."

I laugh, lightly shaking my head at him. "I supposen' I'll have that there potato soup your ma makes, and a side of salad." He drawls out, his heavy southern accent causing the 'po' in potato to draw out longer. 

I nod. "Coming up." I walk up the row, passing Mandy, our other waiter. "There's a spill on isle two." I tell her, and she nods back at me. "Gotcha."

Making my way up to the counter, I slip behind it, taping the order up on the line that Mom or Ramon can tug on to send it back to them. I run the back of my hand over my forehead, the day catching up to me despite it only being five o'clock.

Now, do I mind working at my own mother's diner you might ask? No, not at all. I rather like it in all honesty. I get paid, I get experience, I get to talk to tourists that always seem to have something interesting to say, and I get to help my Mom.

It's a win-win if I do say so myself.

But come on Niki, you're seventeen. Don't you want to be out having fun with your friends?

Sure I have some friends. I'm in a more popular group in school. I play on the starring tennis team. But I really can't say I have a 'real' friend I'd want to hang out with outside of school. I've had a boyfriend or two during my few years of high school, though I don't have one currently, but I just seem to feel more like myself when I'm doing this.

Peer pressure isn't really my thing. I'm more of a....free spirit you could say. And I couldn't just abandon Mom to go and do stupid things I'll probably regret later. I owe it to her. Besides, she's my BFF.

Mom had me right out of high school, so she's relatively young for having a seventeen year-old daughter. She married Daniel, my dad, soon after she found out she was expecting and moved in next to her childhood BFF, who was already married and is three years older than her with a two year-old son. They worked together, got their business degrees and majored in professional cooking while managing the house and a child, seeing as both dads' were/are workaholics.

Six years went by. Mom's friend, who'd dreamed of having her own diner too, resigned herself to being a mother of two while mine continued to fight for hers. She eventually landed a deal over here in Kansas, and offered to let her friend work with her. Long story short, she denied the offer, though I'm pretty sure she thought about it for a whole month and was even considering it, but something came up, and she insisted they'd keep in touch.

Then, no more than a year after we moved, dad split, leaving Mom for some other girl, who looked way too young by the way. It crushed Mom, not to mention me, and that's when I found out she hadn't even heard anything from her friend that whole year.

Can I just say; adding insult to injury?

The only thing that seemed to boost her moral was when she was working here and taking care of me.

No. I can't disappoint Mom. I'm happy with my life the way it is. I'm an A student, I've got a above average GPA that's going to land me in a college next year, I hope, and I'm not about to lose all that by making some mistake I've heard so many other people make.

No thank you.

Call me Miss goody-two-shoes if you like. I'll even pat you on the back once you've done it if it makes you feel any better.

Another hour flies by, and before I know it, we're locking the doors and cleaning the restrooms, floors, kitchen, and booths one more time. Cathy is the first to leave, as usual, then Ramon leaves with a hearty goodbye.

I scrub the final tabletop off, taking extra care around the coffee stain left on the right corner. I hear Mom's footsteps walk out of the kitchen, stopping behind the counter as she most likely works to count the money out.

Twenty minutes later, 6:37 P.M, mom and I are back in the SUV, on the way back to our house for our supper and bed, though not before we have some quality time with the tv, before we have to get up again to return back here.

I know. We lead a busy life. It's like this five days a week. Monday through Friday, 10:30 A.M.- 6 P.M.

I absentmindedly flip through the radio stations with my right leg propped up on the dashboard, much to mom's distaste, halfheartedly chewing on a piece of red licorice to help still the hunger that's currently brewing in my empty stomach.

We may own a restaurant, but we prefer to eat at home when it comes to supper. Don't ask why. I've always just assumed, and personally felt, that it kinda sounds weird to say you ate supper at your own diner while it was closed.

Sue me. But it is weird....in a way.

  Mom suddenly clears her throat, shifting in her seat. "So, honey, I actually have something to tell you." Mom starts, sounding almost hesitant. I pause my vigorous search for a halfway decent station, leaning back in my seat as I give Mom a, 'go ahead' look.

"Well," she pauses to gather her thoughts, and I turn in my seat, pulling my legs up. "You remember Nadine Patrick and her family, right?" Her gaze flickers from the road, over to me. I furrow my brows, swallowing the last bite of licorice.

I nod after a solid five seconds. "Of course I do." I slowly confirm, and I notice her shoulders noticeably loosen.

Nadine Patrick is, coincidently, my Mom's BFF I was reminiscing about earlier. Odd I'd decide to go down memory lane on the same day Mom, for some reason, decides to bring it up.

Mom nods. "Well, she sent me a text a few weeks back, and we got to talking...." She blows a breath out, and I can't help but wonder what has my mom so flustered when she's usually very hard to upset.

Like I said earlier, Nadine and Mom practically stopped talking to each other. Period. But that doesn't mean completely. They'd send simple texts like, "happy birthday," or, "Merry Christmas," to one another quite often. But this sounds like more than a simple 'hello.'

I peer over at her, and she quickly shakes her head like she thinks she's being ridiculous.

"Okay, long story short, James, her husband, got let-go completely out of the blue a few months back and is having trouble getting a job at the moment. Nadine is unemployed, as she has been for the past twelve years. They're having financial problems and it sounds like they're really struggling to make ends meet." Her grave voice sends a ping of sympathy to my heart.

It does sound bad.

"We talked it over, and well, I offered her a job here at our diner until James finds another suitable job." She practically rushes out in one long breath. "They're moving here this week."

I blink a few times, my mind slowly processing what she just said.

No effing way.

Mom turns to me as she stops at a red light. "You're upset? I'd thought you'd be happy? After all, this means you'll be seeing-" I don't give her a chance to continue as I practically sprawl out over the middle console and wrap my arms around her.

"How could I be upset!?" I practically squeal, and she lets a laugh out before patting my arm in a attempt to subtly peel me from her side. "I finally get to see my childhood friends again!" The smile on my face seems to catch as Mom's own lips turn up in a smile.

Nadine may be my mother's BFF, but she's also the mother of two children I practically grew up with for almost seven years.

I still remember the relentless teasing, the joking, the nagging, the hardcore playing that usually ended with someone getting hurt. All the times we played at each other's houses, that were right next to each other, the sleepovers, the imaginary adventures to Neverland.

Albeit we were young, and I really shouldn't remember half the things I remember from that age. But I do.

We'd made it a tradition to go to the nearest park three, maybe four, times a week. We did practically everything together. Our moms' were inseparable, and so were we.

That is until we moved away. I think I cried for two solid weeks. Completely soiling my favorite stuffed bear too.

'Twas a sad, sad day.

Mom moves forward as the light turns green, and I sadly pull away to sit properly in my seat. And yes, I'm wearing a seatbelt.

I gasp as a thought hits me. "We'll finally be able to see little Paige now!? Pictures don't do justice!" I clasp my hands together, the smile on my face growing bigger. Mom nods again, biting her bottom lip before speaking. "Of course." A small smile quirks at the corner of her lips.

I peer closer at her, finding something a little....off.

She should be the one ecstatic about the whole thing. Yet here she is, acting almost closed off about it. What's fishy in Denmark?

"Edward sadly won't be coming for another week or two." Mom adds. "He's currently attending the University of Denver in Denver, Colorado. His summer break doesn't start for another few weeks."

I sit back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest as I bring a mental image of nine year-old sporty Eddy up to the front of my mind. He probably got some sports scholarship knowing him. He was always one of those kids that always preferred being outdoors to sitting inside with a textbook in front of you.

Though I can't say any of us weren't.

"Impressive." I mutter, vaguely feeling a twinge of jealousy before I quickly push it away. He was pretty smart too, and he's a whole two years older than me, I'll be able to catch up to him here soon.

Lets just say I have a bit of a rivalry with the older Patrick son.

"It is." Mom agrees, and she sneaks a peak over at me, probably aware of how I feel seeing as she is the mother here. "They're, excluding Edward and James, supposed to stop by on Friday so I can show Nadine the ropes before she starts on Monday. Then Saturday we're supposed to meet them at Chili's for supper." She announces, turning the right turn signal on.

Excitement begins to flutter in my chest, and suddenly I think my summer won't be as uneventful as I'd presumed.

I didn't know how right I was.

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A/N

Hello!! As y'all can see this is the first chapter of my newest book! Please show it some love and VOTE! I update a lot faster if I see people are actually reading and enjoying it. It motivates me. 😄

But remember! This is a first draft! There will be mistakes, and I'm sure there will be holes in the plot at some point! If you notice anything! Please kindly comment and tell me. I'd greatly appreciate it.

So, we'll be meeting the Patricks' here soon. Anyone have any thoughts? Please feel free to comment! I love hearing peoples thoughts! And I promise I don't bite. 😉

I'll be updating in a few days here. Possibly sooner if I get a total of 5 votes on this chapter!

Peace out,
Maggy