"So tell me what you're doing here again?"

I sighed, slumping back into my seat. We were back in the employee lounge again. Oliver sat next to me on the couch while my uncle sat across from us, a frown on his face.

"I told you, I'm not here to drink. I'm here to work... or more precisely, train."

My uncle turned his eyes to Oliver, who was jiggling his foot with impatience. "Is this true, Mr. Fox?"

Oliver nodded. "We're short on staff, so I asked her to help."

"You know she's seventeen, right?"

I stared at my uncle in shock. "What are you doing?"

"Harley, he can't lie about your age to his parents. This is different from school since this is a bar."

"I already know," Oliver responded, rolling his eyes.

My uncle pursed his lips at me. "Harley-"

"He found out by accident," I cut my uncle off. "He's keeping my secret, so I'm helping him at the bar."

"And your parents are okay with this?" my uncle asked, turning back to Oliver again.

"As I said, we are understaffed," Oliver responded a little bit rudely. "They know her age, and my dad is fine with it."

"You do realize Harley has a lot to handle, right? She has to teach all day, and then go home to care for her brother."

I shot my uncle a warning look. "I can take care of myself."

"I never said you couldn't..."

"Uncle Rob, please, I can handle this job," I told him. If I couldn't, Oliver might spill my secret. Which would be worse than having to work a few hours more a few nights a week.

He sighed. "I know you can handle it. I'm just not sure how I feel about my seventeen year old niece working at a bar..."

"I'll be fine!" I protested. "Uncle Rob, I want to help out!"

Oliver glanced at me, looking the slightest bit surprised. I frowned back at him. It wasn't a total lie. Anthony seemed really nice, and if they were understaffed I didn't have a problem helping out.

He nodded. "I'll have a chat with Anthony... but Harley, if it becomes too much for you to handle, I want you to take it easy."

I grinned at my uncle, swinging my arm like a sailor. "I'll be okay."

"And if I ever catch you drinking, you will be in a lot of trouble," he warned, narrowing his eyes. "You can bet Will is going find out."

"I won't drink," I promised him, frowning. "I'm not that irresponsible."

"Oliver, you better make sure of it."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"No, not 'whatever'," my uncle responded, narrowing his eyes. "If I think Harley shouldn't be working here, I'm making her quit."

"Who are you? Her father?" Oliver shot at him, scowling

"I'm the closest thing-"

"Rob!"

My uncle looked at me in surprise. I narrowed my eyes at him, narrowing the lump that was suddenly in my throat. I cleared my throat before talking. "Oliver's right. You're not my dad. I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself."

"Harley..."

"Don't you have to go talk to Anthony?" I asked brusquely.

My uncle stared at me for a moment before sighing. "I know you like to think you can handle yourself Harley, and I'm not saying you can't, but you do need some adult guidance in your life..."

I clenched my teeth, swallowing hard. "I know... I have Will."

My uncle smiled slightly. "Family guidance, Harley."

"Elliot," I responded just to tease him. I couldn't be angry with him. I knew he just wanted to help. But the way he was talking sounded like he was trying to replace my parents- which he could never do.

He laughed. "Right." He stood up, adjusting his coat. "I'm going to go talk to Anthony now, and I'll see you two Monday morning."

"Whatever," Oliver grumbled.

My uncle grimaced at him. "Bye, Harley."

Pushing myself off the couch, I waved to my uncle, who then left the room. A small sigh escaped my lips. I really did appreciate his concern, but after living for eight months on my own without any help, his sudden worry threw me off guard. It was nice, but I didn't need it. I was okay on my own.

"Hey."

Oliver's voice made me jump. I had forgotten he was in the room! I turned to him and found him watching me with an eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"Look, I don't know what your uncle was talking about, but if you have family issues and can't handle this job, I'm not going to black mail you into working here," Oliver muttered, looking away from me.

I stared at him in surprise. "What?"

"I'm not repeating myself," he snapped.

"Um..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say. What was up with Oliver's sudden kindness?

"Elliot, right?"

"Huh?"

Oliver gave me a flat look. "That's your brother's name, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"If you need to watch him or whatever, just tell me and you don't have to come in."

"Okay...?" I frowned at Oliver. "What's with the sudden change in attitude?"

Oliver scowled. "What are you talking about?"

I faltered under his hard gaze. "Um, never mind... But I can handle this job. It's fair. You keep my secret, I'll help you..."

"I said if you can't handle it you don't have to."

"I can handle it," I insisted, frowning the tiniest bit. Did Oliver suddenly not want me to work here now? If so, why did I feel so upset by it? "I'll be fine."

"You have a bank account, right?"

"Huh?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "What, are you deaf?"

"No," I snapped, feeling my face heat up. "You just randomly change the topic and I don't catch it. Yes, I do have a bank account, why?"

"To deposit your paycheck," Oliver told me as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Once again, I was taken back. "I get to keep it?"

"Duh. Why wouldn't you?"

"Um, I thought you would take it," I admitted sheepishly, feeling foolish for thinking that. "Never mind though."

Oliver opened his mouth to say something, but before he could make a noise, the door behind me opened. Oliver's eyes shot past my shoulder and his eyes narrowed, a scowl appearing on his face once more. After a second's hesitation, I looked over my shoulder and saw a very pretty woman standing in the doorway. Immediately I recognized Melissa's features and realized this was Oliver's step-mom.

"I didn't realize you had company," his step-mom commented, her eyes flickering to me and then to him. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"I'm training her today," Oliver told the woman curtly.

His step-mom frowned slightly, looking at me again. "She barely looks old enough to be in high school."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Oliver beat me to it. "No one asked your opinion," Oliver retorted.

His step-mom sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you not to use that tone with me?"

"I don't know," Oliver drawled.

Even though Oliver's step-mom seemed kind of disagreeable, I thought Oliver was being a little bit rude too to her. She was his step-mom still, after all. Once more I found his step-mom's eyes on me again, and she stepped forwards, holding out her hand.

"I'm Claire," she greeted me as I tentatively placed my hand in hers. "I'm Oliver's step-mom."

"Harley, Oliver's... friend," I said a little awkwardly.

Claire smiled at me. "Nice to meet you."

Hmm, she seemed to share Oliver's sudden mood changes, I thought in amusement. "Nice to meet you too."

Suddenly I felt someone grab onto my upper arm and I looked up in surprise at Oliver, who was dragging me forwards.

"Come on," he ordered, stepping around his step-mom.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Oliver didn't bother turning around. "To wipe tables."

Feeling extremely rude, I turned to give his step-mom a half-smile, and then a quick little wave before Oliver could completely pull me out of the room. As soon as we were out, he dropped my arm, a look of annoyance on his face.

"That was a little rude," I commented casually.

"Remember my earlier comment about this being none of your business?" Oliver asked, giving me a deadpan look.

I jutted my chin. "Yes."

"Then drop it."

"Fine," I snapped. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," Oliver responded quietly. "Follow me," he said quickly before I could respond to his first comment.

Confused, I followed him behind the bar and into the kitchen area. He went to a cabinet and opened it, pulling out something, and chucking it at me. Reflexively my hand shot out and caught it. A frown appeared on my face when I realized it was a towel.

"What's this for?"

Oliver sighed. "You never listen do you?"

"I do!"

"What did I tell my step-mom we were doing?"

I hesitated. "Cleaning up...?"

"We're wiping tables," Oliver said, brushing by me. "Let's go."

"I was close."

"Whatever."

I sighed, following him back through behind the bar, into the hallway, and into the main room again. More people were gathered around the bar now, and less people at the tables. Oliver gestured towards a group of empty tables at the far right of the room.

"Start there," he commanded.

"Yes sir," I responded, trudging over to the tables. It was going to be a long night.

**********************

Monday morning I dragged myself into the school building, yawning widely. Weekends were way too short for my liking. The almost empty hallways told me I had arrived to school earlier than I expected. Whistling to myself, I started towards my room, tapping my fingers against my leg in beat to the song I was whistling. My whistle suddenly stopped when I noticed my classroom light was on.

Maybe I could finally catch Tucker in action!

Staying as quiet as possible, I tiptoed down the rest of the hallway, holding my breath tightly. I stuck my head around the door and looked in. Tucker wasn't in the main part of the classroom. That could be used to my advantage. Slipping into the room, I quietly shut the door behind me. He wouldn't be able to avoid me this time.

Still keeping silent, I headed towards the supply room. I heard the clatter of a plate being put in the sink, and then the sound of a faucet being turned on. I stopped by the door, thinking hard. Should I step in and catch him in the act? Or wait until he comes out? My decision was abruptly made for me when Tucker stuck his head out of the supply room doorway.

His eyes shot open in surprise, and then narrowed, his face flushing red in anger.

I immediately took a step away, surprised by his hostility. "Tucker-"

"What are you doing here?" he demanded in a tight voice.

"It's my classroom," I shot back. "What are you doing?"

"None of your business!"

"Tucker, yes it is!"

"No it's not!" he nearly shouted, retreating back into the supply room. "Go away!"

I stared incredulously after him. "But it's my classroom!"

"I don't care!"

When I saw he was beginning to shut the supply room door I quickly moved forwards and stuck my foot in-between the door and the doorway. Tucker scowled at me through the small gap and I scowled right back. Suddenly he brought his hand through the small gap and shoved me in the chest. I gasped in shock and pain, stumbling back a few steps. Tucker slammed the door.

"What are you doing in there?" I demanded, walking back up to it. "Open it!"

"Nothing and no!"

"You're doing something!"

"None of your business!"

I narrowed my eyes at the door. "Do you want me to involve the principal?"

The door swung open and Tucker sent me a harsh glare before stepping out of the way to let me in. I frowned at him, stepping into the room. My eyes swept around it and landed on a small plate of food on the counter. I stared at it curiously before turning to Tucker.

He looked angry, embarrassed, and hurt all at the same time. This made me frown deeper.

"Tucker..."

"What?" he snapped.

"Do you come in here to eat breakfast every day?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

He shook his head. "No."

"Then what?"

Tucker set his jaw before answering. "I make lunch using the supplies."

"Why?"

A scowl appeared on Tucker's face again and he narrowed his eyes at me. "Butt out."

I sighed softly. There were only a few possibilities for the reason Tucker was using the school's supplies to make food. And since the school cost an arm and a leg to go to, it didn't take a detective to figure it out. "Money problems?"

"Look, I don't expect a girl like you to understand," Tucker shot at me, his shoulders shaking in anger. "You probably still get spoiled by mommy and daddy."

"My parents are dead."

As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, my eyes flew wide open in shock. How had I let that slip out? Why could I so easily tell Tucker and not Oliver or Arden? I waited anxiously, waiting for Tucker to laugh at me. When he didn't, I looked at him questioning. He didn't look as angry as before, in fact he looked a little sympathetic. His fists were unclenched now, and he had stopped shaking. I took this opportunity to talk.

"I've been working since, um, tenth grade to make money to support my brother and myself," I told him quietly. "I know how hard it is... And I'm not going to tell you that you can't use the supplies."

"I don't need pity-" Tucker started, but I cut him off.

"I'm not pitying you! I want to help!"

Tucker gave me a flat look. "Why"

"Because I know the position your in," I told him. "You don't want to waste your families money on school lunch because they already have to pay for this expensive school, right?"

Tucker frowned at me. "You're not going to tell?"

"Of course not!" I responded, shaking my head. "This school is loaded. I don't think anyone will care if a little of the supplies are missing."

Tucker stared at me curiously for a minute. I returned his look with a small smile, and then turned to look at what he was cooking. A small smile appeared at my lips when I looked at the mess he had created.

"What is this supposed to be?"

"Grilled cheese," Tucker muttered.

"Really?"

"Shut up," he snapped. "I can't cook."

I laughed. "I can see that."

"I said shut up!"

I smiled again, turning to look at him. "Tell you what, Tucker. If you can drop your attitude around me, I'll make you lunch every day."

Tucker narrowed his eyes. "Are you pitying me?"

"Nope," I responded with a shrug. "I just want you to stop being such a... well, mean," I corrected myself quickly.

"And you'll make me lunch every day?"

"I don't think you exactly can enjoy your lunch if it looks like that," I told him, pointing at the charcoaled bread.

"Why?"

Tucker was furrowing his eyebrows at me, a frown on his face. I returned his frown. "Why not?"

"I've been an a-"

"Jerk."

Tucker rolled his eyes. "A jerk all year long. Why do you want to be nice and help me?"

"First, like I said, I've been in your position. And second, I want to help. You are my student after all, right?"

Suddenly Tucker looked embarrassed. He lowered his gaze, staring determinedly at the floor. "I'm not going to thank you."

I cracked a smile. "You don't have to. So I take it we have a deal?"

Tucker nodded briefly.

"Good," I said just as the warning bell sounded. "If you stop by before lunch, I'll have something ready for you for today."

Tucker looked up at me in surprise. "Really?"

"Really."

"Okay," he mumbled, returning his attention to the floor.

I tried my best to hold in a laugh. He was just like Elliot when he wanted something! When Tucker wasn't being mean, he was actually kind of cute. It made a grin appear on my face once more.

"You should probably get going," I advised him. "I'll clean up."

Tucker nodded again, and quickly started towards the door. Just before he exited he paused, his hand on the door handle. "Sorry about your parents... I didn't mean to bring up unpleasant memories."

I smiled at him. "It's alright. But I have a favor... Could you not tell anyone?"

Tucker looked at me in a moment in surprise, then he nodded. "Okay."

"Thank you."

Tucker moved forwards like he was going to leave, and then stopped again. He sighed. "Sorry again."

"Sorry again?"

"For pushing you earlier," he muttered.

I stared at him in surprise. "Um... no, it's fine... Thank you though."

Tucker nodded once before disappearing from my view. I stared after him for a few minutes, astonished. Who knew such a simple thing could change a person's personality? Unless Tucker was acting like that because he was embarrassed... I frowned slightly. I was definitely going to make him the best lunch ever today.

_______________________________

Ouu, Tucker's problem is revealed first! I know all of you were expecting that haha. I don't really have anything to say today (: I kind of had writer's block for this chapter... Hope it came out okay!

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[Today's Song: Anywhere But Here - Mayday Parade]