PLEASE READ;;i'm working on a story;; want constructive criticism!!!

Introduction
“Two number fives, one Hawaiian Mudslide and a Double Chocolate Fudge Whoopee,” I mumble into the loudspeaker and type the codes into the register. “$14.50.” I look at the overweight lady standing in front of the counter, rummaging through her oversized purse, muttering something about a coupon she got from the Sunday paper. I let out a huge sigh and tap my freshly painted red nails against the linoleum surface. I don’t see what the big deal is: I mean the coupon is only fifty cents off- I highly doubt she’ll break the bank.
While I’m impatiently waiting, I begin to scratch at the sleeve of my bright orange polyester Tastee Burger uniform. I’ve been working here for six months and I’m still not used to the cheap, itchy fabric or the fact that they still haven‘t given me a new name tag after I told them it’s Keesha with two e‘s not “ie“. Come to think of it, I’m still not used to this whole idea of having a job. I only got it to get my aunt, Sonya, off of my back. I hate the smell of old grease from countless numbers of grilled hamburgers with unspecified added ingredients and stale french-fries. Let alone the pesky customers that refuse to use the drive-thru and bring their bratty four year olds who spill their sodas and scream the entire time because they don’t like the toy they got with their kids’ meal. Or the anal customers who, “Asked for pickles, not relish,” and demand to speak to the manager when you so much as roll your eyes.
When the woman finally gives up her quest for the phantom coupon, she hands me fifteen dollars and just as I open the register to retrieve her change, out the corner of my eye I see my boss, Mr. Bradley standing to my right, jotting down notes in a small notepad for MEE: Monthly Employee Evaluation. All the workers get rated on a scale of 1-50. with 1 being the worst. If you get below a 35- they’re supposed to fire you. Mr. Bradley always gives me a 35: just enough so that I don’t get fired but little enough so that I’m stuck taking out the garbage and mopping the floors after hours. I wish he would just fire me.
“50 cents is your change.” I hand the two quarters over and feel a sweaty palm on my shoulder, gripping tight.
“Ms. Greene, what do we say to this fine young lady?” Mr. Bradley, asks, mocking me with his dull blue eyes.
I slowly turn my head and glare at him, and for once I hope he can read my mind. “Thank you for going the Tastee Burger way, have a tasty meal every day.”



























Chapter One
My head hit’s the Hello Kitty Pillow as I leap onto my unmade bed. The digital clock on the dresser beside me displays the time in fluorescent pink digits: 9:03. My shift was over at seven. It’s a Friday night and I have absolutely nothing to do. No parties worth crashing. No movies worth paying ten bucks to see. No cute new trends to look for in the mall. And nobody to do any of those things with. All of my friends are too busy working or filling out last minute scholarship applications.
I pick up my magenta Razor to see if I have any missed calls: Somebody must have called me, I was in the shower for twenty whole minutes. But there’s nothing. I sigh and let my phone fall to the carpeted floor. The thought of being alone on a Friday night is unbearable and the stillness of this two bedroom apartment is slowly squeezing the life out of me. I jump up and press play on my stereo and let the over-powering bass and care-free lyrics of the music drown out my thoughts. Just as Beyoncé is going into the bridge, I hear pounding at my door. Startled, I swing it open.
“Keisha, how many times I got to tell you to stop locking this door? You don’t own nothing in this house. If you want privacy, start paying some damn rent! You ain’t gonna be living here your whole life as no freeloader. And turn down that music! Ms. Jones done came down here complaining bout that mess, again! You trying to get me evicted?”
I suck my teeth and turn off my CD player: its just my aunt, Sonya, working my nerves again. She’s still got on her nurse uniform. “Auntie So, my music wasn’t even that loud! And why you still got on your work clothes? Ain’t your shift over?”
She rolls her big green eyes at me and places her hands on her small waists, her white tennis shoes planted firmly in the doorway. I’ve always admired her beauty. When I was younger, I would lay on her bed and watch her prepare for a night out. She always had the same routine: Slip into whatever dress she had chosen for the occasion and slowly but efficiently apply mascara, blush, lipstick and even fake eyelashes if the night was going to be really special. Then she’d unpin her long jet-black hair that fell past her shoulders and place it in a high, elegant bun. She’d look at herself in the full-length mirror, tugging at this and hitching up that until she was completely satisfied. Watching her leave with a smile on her face and hope in her eyes, with whomever her date happened to be for that night, made me wonder in amazement how she made her beauty look so effortless… It’s been a while since I’ve seen her prepare for a date. The last one I can remember was over a year ago, before Nia was born. Now when I see her walk out the front door, its in her uniform and she doesn’t have that same giddy disposition just the bags under her eyes from sleepless nights and a weary grin that she uses to hide the disappointment of what her life has become.
“I’m working overtime. I won’t be home til late so I’m expecting you to look after Nia while I’m gone. I just laid her down but she might wake up-”
“Chill Auntie, I got this! You are talking to the number one babysitter in the world!” I laugh and stick out my tongue.
She tries to hold back her smile but finally grins. “Yeah, whatever. I’m just glad you home tonight so I ain’t gotta hire no babysitter,” She mumbles then points her stubby finger at me. “Don’t let me come home to no shit.” I cringe.
Sometimes Auntie So can be so upfront about things. I know exactly what, or should I say who she’s talking about: my boyfriend, Xavier. She can’t stand him and is happy to see that we’ve been arguing a lot lately. She just hopes that one day I’ll see him for “the asshole he really is”. But I just shrug her off when she says things like that. That’s just how she is… How she’s always been.
I’ve lived with her since I was twelve years old, when Savanna, my mother, got married and moved to France. She would’ve took me too, but I wanted to stay here in Jersey with my family and friends. Besides that, it was no secret that her fiancé wasn’t crazy about kids. Savanna and Auntie So never got along but my aunt had always loved me, so she agreed to let me stay with her if my mother paid her child support. But she don’t even send the 400$ a month like she used to. She said her husband don’t like her spending their money like that. You hear that? Spending: like she’s splurging for a new wardrobe off some fancy Paris runway and not sending money to her only child. I’m just as mad at my mother as I am at him, cause she’s the one letting him have all the say. But she’s always been that way: choosing her men over me. She comes to America around the holidays and sometimes my birthday but most of the time she just calls or sends a postcard, if that. It doesn’t bother me like it used to: I don’t miss her. I got Auntie So and that’s even better.
I follow my aunt into the kitchen and place my right hand over my heart and swear that I will be on my best behavior as she grabs her car keys off the counter. She walks away and I hear the front door open and slam shut.
I head for her room to check on my little cousin. She’s fast asleep on her stomach with her little butt up in the air. I giggle and give her a soft kiss. She still has that new baby smell even though she’s already four months old. I remember when she first came home: I was so excited. It was like having a baby sister. Since Auntie So is like a mother to me and my own mother never had any other kids, I guess Nia’s the closest thing I’ve got to one. Her father’s nothing to talk about: he got locked up when my aunt was seven months pregnant with her, for attempted robbery.
Grabbing the remote off of my aunt’s dresser, I flip through the channels to see what’s on. I finally settle on the Fresh Prince and start to drift off to sleep when I hear the doorbell ring.
Startled, I leap out of bed and peer through the shades of the front room to see who it is. It’s X. I run to open the door, then hesitate. I make a dash for the bathroom and brush my teeth, comb back my hair into a ponytail and smooth down my oversized tee shirt in an effort to look cute but comfortable. Once I open the front door to see Xavier standing there, my heart stops. He looks so good in his fresh white tee and matching sneakers: his chain hanging down to his navel and his fitted covering his dark brown eyes.
I give him my best imitation of anger until he pouts his lips, and reaches out to hug me. All is forgiven when I close my eyes and smell the comfortingly familiar scent of his cologne and his muscular arms embracing the curves of my body. Once he releases me and I’m out of my daze, I slap him hard in the chest.
“You haven’t called me in four days! What’s wrong with you?”
X shrugs his shoulders. “I-I been busy?” It sounds like a guess instead of a reply.
I suck my teeth. “And what you doing here tonight? Ain’t Friday’s supposed to be your nights with Ja’Quell?” Ja’Quell: X’s son. It’s still hard for me to say it so I can understand why other people look at me like I’m crazy when I say my boyfriend cheated on me with another girl, got her pregnant, and I’m still with him. But what they don’t understand is me and X’s history.
We’ve been together since we were Freshman: that’s over four years. We’d known each other since the sixth grade when he moved here from New York and I’d always thought he was kind of cute but I was too shy to admit it. Besides that. I was tall, skinny and going through what adults like to call my “awkward stage”. I played basketball with the boys during recess and was the only girl that would take them on in wrestling matches and nasty dares to eat things like the cafeteria lasagna and chocolate milk mixed together. Me and X became fast friends and while he talked about other girls, he never thought of me in that way… until high school. I noticed a change in everything from my cup size to the span of my hips. I stopped hanging with the guys and started wearing makeup, doing my hair, and wearing clothes that clung to my body. It took X a while to notice but when he did, we became an instant item. That first year was pretty good. It was your average high school romance filled with countless nights on the phone, peer pressure, rumors and tears. We broke up every other week but we always managed to get back together. Then in the summer before our Sophomore year, I found out he got some trick from around the way named Brenda, pregnant. Of course I broke up with him. It was the worst two weeks of my life and even though I haven’t lived very long, I’m sure it’ll stay that way forever. Even though my friends all told me I was doing the right thing, I couldn’t help but miss him. Every time his name showed up on the Caller ID and I‘d hear the phone ring four times in a row and cut to voice mail, it took all my strength not to pick up the phone. That’s when I knew I loved him. So I decided to stick it out and we’ve been together ever since
X plops down onto the couch and turns on the television, making himself at home. “Nah, Brenda decided to keep him for the weekend cause she got some family coming in from out of town and they wanna see him.”
I stand in front of the TV, hand on my hips, still not satisfied. “Why you ain’t call me?”
He laughs and rubs the small hairs on his chin, making me madder by the second.
“What’s so damn funny, X? Huh? I wanna laugh!” I aim the remote at his head and he catches it. He stands up and makes his way over to me. Before I can say another word, he pushes his lips against mine. Pretty soon we’re laying in my bed and before I know it, it’s over. I lay back on my bed, my head rested on my pillow as X slowly gathers and puts on his clothes. He kisses me on my forehead and the coolness of his chain rubs against my cheek. I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep when he says. “Goodnight.”