MY NEW JOB

The alarm buzzed at 6:00 AM, dragging me out of a restless sleep. I groaned, staring at the ceiling for a moment, knowing I should be getting ready for school. But today was different. I wasn't going to Franklin High. Instead, I was heading to my new part-time job as a receptionist, and it's been 2 weeks I started this job.

I rolled out of bed, had my bath, threw on my usual faded jeans and a hoodie, and grabbed my backpack. The house was quiet—Mom was probably still asleep after working late last night, and my little siblings were getting ready for school. I didn't want them to know I wasn't going to school today. It would only worry them more.

I grabbed a quick breakfast, then headed out, walking to the bus stop with my thoughts swirling. I hadn't told anyone at school that I was skipping today again, not even David and Mirabel, my best friends. I didn't want to explain why I was missing class, I guess they understand. I just needed to do what I could to help my family, especially now.

The bus ride to the office felt longer than usual. My mind was filled with thoughts of the reasons I'd taken this job. My dad, once the proud manager of one of the fast growing Fast Food Restaurant in Southern California, is now in prison. I knew in my heart that my dad was innocent, but proving it was another thing.

Mom had taken on extra shifts at the grocery store to keep us afloat, but it wasn't enough. We were drowning in bills, and with Dad gone, the pressure to help out fell squarely on my shoulders. That's why I was working now, even if it meant missing school. Someone had to step up.

When I arrived at the office, I walked in and took my place behind the reception desk. The morning was slow, and as the minutes ticked by, I found myself staring blankly at the computer screen, unable to focus. The weight of everything was almost too much to bear.

Around mid-morning, Mr. Thompson, the office manager, came by. He was a tall, stern man in his fifties, with sharp eyes that missed nothing. I'd always found him intimidating, but he'd been kind enough when he offered me the job.

"Jake," Mr. Thompson said, his voice calm but with an edge that made me sit up straighter. "Can I see you in my office for a moment?"

My heart skipped. I nodded, standing up and following Mr. Thompson down the hallway. As we walked, my mind raced, wondering what this could be about. I hadn't been working here long—what if I'd already messed up?

Mr. Thompson's office was neat, with a large wooden desk and shelves filled with files. He gestured for me to sit down, then closed the door behind us. The silence was heavy as Mr. Thompson settled into his chair, folding his hands on the desk.

"Jake," he began, his tone serious, "I've noticed you've been working more hours than we originally agreed upon. And I couldn't help but see that you're here on weekdays when you should be in school. What's going on?"

I swallowed hard, my eyes darting around the room as I tried to find the right words. I hadn't expected this. I thought I could just keep my head down and do my job, but now it seemed like my plan was falling apart.

"I, uh…" I started, my voice shaky. "I need to work, Mr. Thompson. My family… we're going through a tough time right now."

Mr. Thompson's expression softened, but there was still concern in his eyes. "I understand that, Jake, but school is important. You can't just skip it. Is there something more you're not telling me?"

I felt a lump in my throat as I hesitated, but I knew I couldn't lie. Not to someone who had been kind enough to give me this job. I took a deep breath and looked Mr. Thompson in the eye.

"My dad… has been sentenced to prison," I said quietly, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. "He was the manager at TRENDS Fast Food Restaurant, and there was some money that went missing. They blamed him for it, but he didn't do it. I know he didn't. But now he has been sentenced, and it's just my mom and my little siblings. We're barely getting by, and I need to help. I need to pay my school fees and help with the bills."

Mr. Thompson leaned back in his chair, clearly taken aback by what I'd just told him. He was silent for a moment, processing my words. I could see the gears turning in his head, wondering if he should have kept it all to himself.

"Jake," Mr. Thompson finally said, his voice gentler now, "I'm sorry to hear about your father. That's a heavy burden for someone your age. But you can't carry all of this on your own. You're still young at 18, and your education needs to come first."

I nodded, but inside, I felt a mix of frustration and helplessness. How could I focus on school when my family was falling apart? How could I pretend everything was okay when it clearly wasn't?

Mr. Thompson studied me for a long moment, then he sighed. "I'll tell you what, Jake. We'll work something out so you can keep your job and still attend school. But you need to promise me you'll focus on your studies, too. You have a future ahead of you, and I don't want to see you throw it away."

I looked up, surprised by the offer. I hadn't expected Mr. Thompson to be so understanding. "I promise," I said, my voice firm. "I'll do my best."

"Good," Mr. Thompson said with a nod. "Now, go on. Take a break. Get some fresh air. You need it."

I stood up, grateful for the chance to catch my breath. As I walked out of the office, I felt a little lighter, like maybe things would be okay after all. But as I stepped back into the hallway, my phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw an unknown number on the screen.

Frowning, I answered the call. "Hello?"

"Jake Johnson?" a stern voice on the other end asked.

"Yes, this is Jake," I replied, a knot forming in my stomach. Who could this be?

"This is Agent Ralph again with the FBI," the voice continued, sending a cold shiver down my spine. "We need to talk to you about your father. It's urgent."

My mind raced with a thousand questions. The FBI? What could they possibly want with me again? Before I could say another word, the line went dead, leaving me standing there in stunned silence.

Something was wrong—very wrong. And whatever it was, it was about to turn my world upside down.