for Neil

[notaskingpermission]

Verity had never had a job before, and truthfully the city provided enough that she didn't technically need to it. But she wanted one. She wanted to feel normal. Finishing high school here, even if it might be pointless, helped, but she'd be graduating soon and then she didn't know what she was going to do. If she was going to college she probably needed more money than the city gave her, or maybe there was some version of FAFSA here, she had no idea. She'd look into eventually. For now a retail job sounded good.

Plus, Marcus' apartment was sparse as fuck, so if she had some extra spending money she could make it feel homier.

They'd told her casual dress was fine, but Verity still wore her best pair of jeans (the black ones without rips) paired with a faded Fleetwood Mac shirt she'd found at the thrift store, because wearing a band shirt while working at a record store made sense in her mind. She wasn't exactly a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, but so far it had been the only band shirt she'd found in Darrow that belonged to a band she actually recognized the name of.

She was supposed to be trained today, though she wasn't sure by who, so when she walked into Phoenix Records she looked for someone authoritative.

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[myfavoritedream]

Upstairs in the loft space where we kept the DVDs and other odds and ends, I leaned against the railing as I watched her walk in, standing awkwardly on the floor, her eyes scanning for somebody who looked important enough to be her boss.

When the schedules were made last week, I groaned and rolled my eyes when I saw that I was on to train a new cashier, but then I recognized the name, and it didn't seem quite so terrible. I mean, how many fucking Veritys could there possibly be in the world? It wasn't like we were friends, really, but I liked her. She was cool enough, funny and not pretentious or annoying or fake-nice or stupid or any of the other bullshit that might immediately make me hate a person. So, having her around probably wouldn't be so bad.

After she walked in, I let her suffer for a minute before taking pity on her. "Hey, new girl," I called down, smirking as she turned toward my voice.