Hotel Coffee and Fireflies; Chapter One

“I’m called Hawkins,” the boy said.

“Yes, well, why is that? Is it your last name, first name, what?” asked the shopkeeper, slightly annoyed at his new employee. The shopkeeper was a man of simplicity, and could not find any other reason for the boy to have such a name. He, in truth, left all the hard work to his secretary Jane. She was the one who had hired this hooligan.

“I just like it, is all. It’s much better than names like Joe or George or Simon,” Hawkins replied.

“Now you look here, lad, I don’t appreciate your cheek. So if you want to keep this job, I’d suggest keeping your mouth shut.”

Hawkins shrugged; not because he didn’t care, but because he wasn’t usually a man of many words. Even when he did talk, it was mainly to himself.

“Now get back to your work, Hawkie,” the shopkeeper grumbled, and he ambled back into his office to smoke his pipe.

The boy walked through the shop, trying not to breathe too deeply. It smelled inside, all musty and dirty. His old sneakers squeaked on the concrete flooring. He wondered how long it had been since someone had bothered to mop it. At least three years was his guess. The lights overhead flickered, and the radio music merged into static.

Angrily, Hawkins kicked a shelf full of Smart Pik Paint. He hadn’t meant to kick it very hard, but the cans tumbled down anyway. Every colour imaginable spilled onto the floor. He cursed and walked out the front door, ignoring the angry shopkeeper and shocked customers. He silently promised it would be the last time he set foot into Mr Al’s It’s All Good Corner Shoppe.

~

She was staring at him over their plates of peas, potatoes, and pork in stony silence. Tonight was even one of her good nights. She had cooked everything making sure it began with the letter “P”, her favourite letter.

“Again, Hawk? What was it this time?” She finally asked, sighing. She brought a dainty spoonful of peas to her mouth.

“It was nothing, Mom. That creep was just hating on my name. ‘Is it your last name or your first name? Well keep your trap shut, blah blah blah!’” Hawkins said.

“I’m sure there was another reason, dear,” his mother replied, running a weathered hand through peppered grey hair. Once, she had been pretty, with smooth hands and a full head of chocolaty brown hair. She was still beautiful, of course, but greys had turned up in her hair, hard work had toughened her hands, and worries had carved wrinkles into her face. But her green eyes still sparkled, bright and clear.

“I mean, I knocked over some paint, but that wasn’t on purpose or anything, Mom! I just bumped into the shelf.” He decided against telling her he’d kicked it.

“Well Hawk, some people, you just can’t understand them. But there are plenty of other places here in need of employees. If you’d just get that temper under control, maybe someone would keep you for more than a week. Wouldn’t that be something, Hawk?” She smiled teasingly.

He smiled and poked at his pork chop. His peas and potatoes were gone, and most of his chop as well, but a few fatty pieces he’d left still on the bone. He hated it.

“I’m going outside, is that alright?” he asked, pushing his chair away from the dinner table and standing up. He picked up his plate and glass and put them by the sink, and waved as he walked out the door. It slammed shut behind him, but he was already running.

~

It hadn’t taken long for Hawkins to find the best place for quiet in this new city. He was good at finding places to just relax, think, and people watch. The hill was a good place, because no one went there (except him) and he could see the whole town during the day, and watch its twinkling lights at night.

In the dusk, there were still some people milling about; a man filling his car with gas and grumbling about the money; a woman pushing a baby stroller and dragging along a wailing toddler with her; a young couple walking a couple dogs.

Suddenly Hawkins felt… different. It was like the time his friend Jay had teased him for letting his fish go on their fishing trip last summer. Hawkins had hated the cold eyes staring at him and had let all of his fish back into the water. It was like he was doing something good, and no one realised it.

He shrugged the feeling off, shivering in the slightly cool wind. It was probably just… well, what could this feeling be? He thought about it uncomfortably, shifting where he was sitting slightly.

Not wanting to dwell on that too long, he brought his attention back to the city. The man in the car was driving away, yelling at the other drivers and practically laying on his car horn. The woman with the kids had rounded the corner and was already getting smaller. The young couple with the dogs was fighting quietly, with hushed, whispery voices and angry looks.

The world didn’t seem too great to Hawkins, not then. It was just a great big mess, and he was stuck in the middle of it. He stood up, ready to go back home to the apartment. His dad would be back from work now, and they would all watch TV or something. Most days, Dad was home for dinner, but some nights he had to fix something last minute. Hawkins didn’t mind, considering that most kids his age hardly ever had a sit-down dinner with the family.

Just as he was about to take off running, feel his muscles complaining against the strain, hear his heart pounding, a twig snapped behind him. He turned around, ready to yell at whoever had been spying on him.

It was a girl his age, with short blond hair, wet and sticking to her head. Her bangs were pulled up in a clip, and he could see her brown eyes. Her small, round mouth opened in a gasp, and she turned around and ran.