Mortals and Demigods

Snobby cheerleaders, jerky jocks and shy nerds meet (and fall in love) with the demigods of Camp Jupiter and Camp Half Blood


12. Jeremy Carisa

Working in a fast-food restaurant sucks. Especially McDonalds. I know what you're thinking. 'Why the hell is this person complaining? I'd kill to be surrounded by food!'. Nope, it's not that. I hated seeing the customers and their stupid requests. 'My fries are under-cooked!' 'my burger isn't tasty' 'my baby hated your ice-cream!'. Just shut the f*ck up! I mean seriously, you're just going to eat it, digest it and poop it out anyway.
“That would be $10.25, sir.” I told the paying customer. An old man, mid 30's I guess with stringy black hair and dark black eyes, pulled out a leather black wallet and grabbed 15 bucks.
“Keep the change.” He says. I nodded, thanking him. I managed a fake smile as the man walked away. I run my hands through my light brown hair and groaned silently, seeing a small kid licking the toy stand.
“Jer,” My co-worker John Wallman says as he slaps his hands on the counter, surprising the nearby kid.
“I'm taking over the cashier now. Lionnel says that you should go to the drive-thru.” I nodded and lazily walked to the drive-thru window. I put on the head-phones and suddenly heard a silent bell.
“Hello welcome to McDonalds,” I greeted the unknown person lazily, “May I take your order?”
“One sec please.” A deep voice answers. I rolled my eyes. These kinds of customers were irritating, making us wait. Why didn't they just think of their orders while in line?
“Can I get three happy meals, one big mac and a large pack of fries?” I typed down their orders on the cash register.
“Anything else, sir? Any drinks?”
“A large coke would be fine.”
“That would be $17.50 dollars. Thanks for stopping by McDonalds.” I heard the car drive away, rushing towards the window. I packed a large pack of fries and the big mac in one bag and 3 happy meals in another. I placed 6 packs of ketchup in the bags too. Seeing a black, shiny pick-up truck at the window, I carried the two bags and opened the window.
“Good morning. How are you today?” I noticed there were two men who were about 20 – 28 years old in the car with two children.
“We're good.” The first man who was driving replies. He had golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The man on the passenger's seat nodded, his black hair waving around. Two children, about 3 – 5 were giggling annoyingly at the back seat. I controlled my urge to yell shut up at the kids. I handed the bags over to them and the large cup of coke.
“Uncle Nico! Can I have my happy meal?” A young boy with black hair and stormy grey eyes asked politely.
“No! I want mine first!” The other kid, who was also a boy with blonde hair and warm brown eyes whined.
“Cole! Luke!” The man with black hair demanded, “Behave or I ain't giving you any!” The two kids shut their mouths (thankfully).
“Children of your wives?” I asked them, trying to sound polite. Blondie blushed, so did the black haired man.
“No actually. The one with grey eyes is my cousin's kid,” Dark eyes says, “The blonde hair one is mine.” Bright eyes cut in.
“And mine.” I raised my eyebrows. What do they- Oh. OH!
“Um. Good for you!” I tell them. They both nodded and drove away, shouting and arguing about the food. Boy, that was weird.

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