As for pertinent story stuff, it's been a week since Tara moved to Sunnydale. Read on!
After getting all set up in her new place, Tara had sat back to relax for a while. She’d been here for a full week now, had already gotten enrolled in the high school and secured a part-time job at the Espresso Pump a few blocks down. The school was off this week for Thanksgiving, but she had managed to do quite well for the time she had. Instead of the original scratched wooden kitchen table set that had come with the place, something the previous tenant had left, she was told, Tara had picked up an old patio set second-hand. It was more quirky and much more her style than the traditional setup, and made the studio seem more her own. She had decorated the whole apartment on a shoestring budget, and was very glad that she would be receiving her first paycheck tonight. After all, December first was coming up very quickly.
Well, it was time to start heading over to her afternoon shift. Tara sighed and tied her sneakers, then stood and walked to the bathroom. Here she brushed her hair and teeth, pleased to be having such a great opportunity to live her own way. It was a lot more responsibility than she was used to, but so far it was paying off. Looking at her reflection in the mirror by itself was an improvement, thinking back to two weeks ago when she’d had that bruise across her cheek. Next week she decided she would call Beth, once she was at her own house instead of Tara’s father’s. No one had come after Tara so far, so she seemed to be in the clear as far as they were concerned. She did want to talk to Beth, though. Make sure she understood why Tara had felt she had to hide what she was doing.
She had also been working on her college application to U.C. Sunnydale, though she hadn’t received her SAT scores yet. She had the phone number they had given her when she went to take them, and had notified them of her change of address immediately. It was really the only piece of mail she was expecting to get. She wondered about Donnie for a few moments, wondering what he would be doing once he graduated. He hadn’t even bothered with the SATs; it may have been obvious that he wouldn’t do well on them. After all, he had been held back twice throughout his school career, and was currently on his second senior year. With that sort of academic record, he couldn’t expect schools to be jumping at him except as an athlete, and if he was sought after for that, the best he could expect was fighting his way through his classes. He was one of the best wrestlers in the division, but how far could that actually get someone?
Tara sighed and stopped herself from thinking further about that. She did have somewhere to be, anyway. She tied her hair up, still not really used to the style, preferring to wear it down most of the time, but food service regulations needed to be adhered to, as her shift supervisor had explained during her training period. When she was satisfied that her blonde tresses were adequately pulled upwards and sticking out from the bun she’d loosely piled on her head, she made her way out of the apartment, grabbing her keys and tromping down the stairs.
Arriving at the Espresso Pump, which buzzed merrily with customers getting sugared up on mochas, many of whom would be Tara’s classmates once school started back up, Tara slipped behind the counter and into the back room. Here she pulled on the apron with the “Tara” name tag pinned to it and tied it around her waist comfortably, then clocked in. “Tara, you’re in section three today! Mary already got table 12, but the rest of them are yours. Soon as 12 clears out, Mary’s off for the day and it’s all yours,” her shift’s manager, Denise, said.
Tara nodded and sent a grateful smile to Mary, who grinned and winked at the blonde as she carried table 12’s order out to the front. Tara blushed in reply, then checked to make sure her notebook was still in her apron pocket, along with a ballpoint pen. Happily, both were still there, and Tara made her way out front. She began with table 11, making sure they had gotten time to look over their menus and took their orders. It was helping her a lot to have to talk to a lot of people; her stutter was noticeably less and she felt more confident already. She hoped it would stick with her when she wasn’t here, because it actually felt pretty good to be bolder.
About an hour and a half into her shift, a group of five teens came in and took a seat in the 15, one of the booths. First was a petite blonde girl with a ponytail, laughing. Then came a tall-ish guy with dark, tousled hair and a broad grin, a stunning looking, long-haired brunette she had seen earlier in the week on his arm. Next was a short young man with spiky red hair and a stubble-covered face wearing a wry smile, almost a smirk, and finally, quite possibly the most gorgeous girl Tara had ever lay eyes on. She had shoulder-length, straight red hair that seemed to float around her delicate-featured, faerie-like face. Her eyes were the most beautiful color, light brown flecked generously with green. She was, unfortunately, hand in hand with the spiky haired guy. Still, it was enough to give the Wiccan the biggest case of nerves she’d had all week. They sat in her section. She would have to talk to her, that beautiful Titania. She wiped her palms on the front of her apron and picked up five menus, taking them to 15.
“Hello, w-welcome to the Espresso Pump,” Tara said, handing each person a menu with a wavering smile. Her hand shook as she handed the redhead her menu, and she felt her cheeks color.
***
In case you were wondering about the Titania thing, she's the mythic Elvish/Faerie Queen of the Seelie Kingdom. Here's a Titania pic, and here's some more stuff, including music, which I have never had my speakers on to hear.
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I can't wait for Willow to *notice* her!
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