He beams. That idiot beams. Doesn't say anything else. Just sits there with this huge smile on his face.
Chapter 12. Liam
One month in, and I’m standing in front of Griff's office for a solid minute, hands shoved in the pockets of my gray sweats, staring at the door. This is stupid. I'm about to voluntarily ask a man who could have me scrubbing toilets with my bare hands for permission to do more work. More work! Me! A month ago, I was sleeping until noon in whatever apartment I'd crashed in, eating gas station chips for dinner, and now here I am, about to beg for kitchen duty.
But the thing is, I miss the kitchen crew, and I'm bored out of my mind during Quiet Time. Ethan is often away doing admin work, and he suggested I get into some activity like that.
So yeah. I'm going to knock on this door and ask Griff if I can, please, sir, chop vegetables in my free time, thank you, sir. What has become of me?!
I knock before I can talk myself out of it. There's a pause, then Griff's voice, and my stomach churns a bit. It's crazy I'm about to do this. "Enter."
Everything is in its place in the office, and Griff sits behind the desk, reading glasses perched on his nose. Classes are just over, and we have half an hour before lunch time. His green eyes lift from whatever paperwork he's reviewing, and his eyebrow rises about a millimeter.
"Marsal."
"Hey. Hi, sir." Smooth. Really smooth. I'm standing in the doorway like I need a formal invitation to cross the threshold, which, knowing this place, I probably do. "Can I… do you have a minute?"
He sets his pen down, removes his glasses, folds them, places them on the desk. "Come in. Sit down."
I sit, and I resist the urge to bounce my leg, I resist the urge to pick at my cuticles, and, especially, resist the urge to say stupid shit that I’ll regret. I do want to vomit, though.
"I wanted to ask about something…” I say, like I forgot how to behave like a human being for a second.
“Go on…” he says, one eyebrow definitely raised now. He thinks I’m acting suspicious and I haven’t even opened my mouth yet. Way to go, Liam, way to go.
“Um, do you think they would want an extra pair of hands in the kitchen? I was wondering if I could like, maybe, volunteer there? Like, regularly."
Griff doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he studies me with those eyes. I'm pretty sure he wants to detect the bullshit, and his brain must be screaming ‘what on Earth is this kid trying to pull?’ I don't blame him. I’m a fuck up.
"Volunteer," he repeats.
"Yeah. Yes, sir. I mean, during my detention shifts, I was helping with prep and dishes, and the staff there said I was, you know." I trail off because saying 'they liked me' feels pathetic. I like being pathetic, but only sometimes. "Useful. They said I was useful."
Griff leans back in his chair. The leather creaks. He crosses his arms, and I notice the faded military tattoos on his forearms where his sleeves are rolled up. I think for a second that he’s fucking cool, and I want to be cool like him when I get old.
"You're telling me you want to spend the time you could be sleeping or relaxing working in the kitchen. Voluntarily."
"I know it sounds… look, it's not a scheme. I'm not trying to pocket knives or whatever you're thinking."
"I wasn't thinking that." His expression doesn't change. Damn, now heisthinking it. That’s all Lu’s fault. She’s the one who told me kids tried to do that. "I was thinking it's the first time you've asked me for something productive like that."
I open my mouth, close it. He's not wrong. I think about apologizing, but it wouldn't change anything.
Griff pulls a form from a drawer, because there's a form for everything here, probably a form for requesting additional forms, and begins writing.
"You can do it on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 p.m. to 3 p.m." He doesn't look up as he writes. "You miss a shift without prior approval, the privilege is revoked. You cause any disruption, revoked. You use the kitchen to hide contraband or engage in any behavior inconsistent with facility rules… "
"Revoked. Got it."
His pen stops. He looks up, and I grin, raising my hands up as if I were caught by the police. He eyes me for another second and starts writing again.
"Good initiative, Marsal. Showing some responsibility might help your case here. I'll let your leader know he's doing a pretty good job with you."
“Hell yeah!” I celebrate. “Thank you, sir!”
“You're welcome.”
I take the permission slip from his outstretched hand.
