The Lottery Ticket

Chapter 1:
                      Eight hours straight of waiting tables at Joey's Jubilee, and I have offically come to the conclusion that I will never have kids. I did not understand the expression, "Zero to sixty," until I started working here a month ago. The parents think this place is their own personal miracle. We watch their kids, feed them, and entertain them, while they're out on their sushi dates. The employees have a completely different view of  the place. The carpet is stained, the air smells of burnt pizza, and the place is crawling with the aforementioned devil spawns. But I honestly wouldn't work anywhere else, because nothing pays better than the parent's sympathy tips. Besides, it's Saturday night and the last place I want to be is at home.
    I finally clock out at ten. The parking lot is relatively empty, probably because it's past the kid's bedtimes. My light blue bike is illuminated by the flickering street lamp at the very end of the parking lot. Most teenage girls would probably be concerned about being kidnapped or raped or something other horrific at this time of night. Not me, all I want to do is get home as fast as I can and have a date with my laptop under my comforter. Plus no kidnapper wants to run into me at night. I might be small, but I can hold my own. I can take care of myself.
    There is a lot of confusion when it comes to California. When people think of California they think of beaches, LA, and attractive surfer guys. That's only one small part of the whole state. I live in upstate California. The beaches are covered with rocks and the temperature is a breezy and consisten seventy degrees. My highschool completely breaks the cute surfer stereotype down. None of them are anything special. Well, except for one, but I'd rather not think about that right now.