by Breanna Carter
"Come on, Bradley, play some Irish music," Molly whined, poking her lower lip out at the DJ, her green eyes filling up with crocodile tears.
It was a Saturday night and I stood near the entrance of the skating rink during our October all-night skating party (called OctoberFest because we weren't creative enough to come up with anything better), observing my sixteen-year-old employee (who didn't actually have to work that night) throw a mini tantrum. She was dressed in baggy jeans and a small green T-shirt, braided red pigtails bouncing on her shoulders, and so endearing that I couldn't help but smile at her antics.
Molly was popular amongst the skating rink crowd, and after meeting her it was obvious why. She told childlike stories of wild adventures (that weren't always true) and smiled nearly all the time. She inspired kindness in others by accepting everyone's faults as well as her own, and she prided herself on her Irish heritage, not ashamed of her red hair and freckles like most girls would have been. Molly didn't fit in at all, and everyone loved her for it.
I couldn't hear Brad's reply, but figured it was along the lines of "no" as Molly defiantly stomped her foot, poking her bottom lip out in a pout.
I ambled over to see what was up. "Something wrong, kiddo?"
"He won't play any Irish music for me," she pouted.
I shook my head, grinning. "Oh no, we'll have to shut the whole rink down," I teased.
"It's not funny, Brian," she whined. "I want Irish music. This music is shitty!"
"Hey, there are kids here. You watch your mouth," I said, glaring at her, then looked over at Brad. "Why not play some Irish music for the girl? Won't hurt anything..." I could be such a softie sometimes, especially because Molly reminded me so much of my little sister.
He rolled his eyes at me. "Because we don't have any Irish music."
Nothing is impossible in Molly's world. She pulled a CD case out of her jeans pocket - I was amazed that her pockets were so big, and Brad was amazed that she actually owned an Irish CD. "I can fix that, Bradley," she said, tears gone and grinning wildly.
Before Brad got the chance to say anything I noticed that Molly was carrying around a large bottle of soda. It was strictly against skating rink rules to have drinks out of the concession area, and she knew that.
"Hey, hey!" I said to her, pointing at the drink. "You're not supposed to have that out here."
She blushed. "Ohh... it's not mine. I'm holding it for a friend... and I'm not drinkin' any... so it's okay, right?"
I shook my head, giving her a stern look. "I can't let you do that. Just give it to Shannon at concessions and she'll hold onto it for your 'friend'. I'm sure no one will bother it."
She was reluctant to let it go and I guessed she was hiding alcohol, but chose to ignore the thoughts, staying optimistic that she would keep herself out of trouble. "But Brian..."
"But nothing, Molly. Go," I commanded.
She lowered her head, lip jutting out again as she shuffled off, defeated.
I sighed and looked up at Brad. "If you don't play the music for her, she'll bug you all night," I told him, patting the counter and walking off. Things seemed to be going well enough to where I could sit behind my desk and count money for a bit, which would ease the headache I'd gotten from those screaming kids and loud music. That's why I was the manager, because I'm good at math and bad with kids. And soon I'd have my MBA and be able to get a real job that didn't involve putting up with obnoxious brats. Only a few more months until graduation.
I'd been in my office an hour or so, counting money and playing Minesweeper to pass the time, when I felt the need to stretch my legs and check on everything in the rink. The first thing I noticed, after the blast of music hit my eardrums of course, was Molly - and the damn bottle of soda still in her hands. A wave of annoyance swept over me as I walked towards the imp and her friends.
"Molly," I said, clearing my throat and looking down at her drink.
"Oohhhh, oops!" she said. "I'll go put it back," she giggled. "No biggie!"
I rolled my eyes and watched as she walked away, stumbling over one of the benches. "Hey be careful! Are you okay?"
Catching herself, she stood upright, face beet red. "Yes! I'm fine! No worries! I'm goin' to give it back to my friend."
I raised my eyebrows, wondering if I was being too lenient with her. "This is your final warning, I'm not going to tell you the rules again."
"Whatever," she giggled and playfully stuck her tongue out at me and scampered off.
I glared in her direction, remembering the last time I'd had this feeling towards her - it'd only been a month ago that I'd caught her stealing from the cash register after having previously put the blame on someone else. She'd been lucky that day because she gave all of the cash back, and convinced me not to fire her (or blister her ass) by giving me a pathetic story about her mom being an alcoholic who didn't pay the bills.
"What's up with Molly?" I asked Brad.
"Nothing unusual, she's just being her goofy self."
I shook my head. "Kids," I muttered, running my fingers through my hair.
Brad's lack of suspicion put my mind at ease so I headed back to my office, listening to two of the employees, Aimee and Shannon, chatter over the walkie talkies about potential activities to do to make time go faster.
I'd won three more games of Minesweeper and wrote a quarter of a research paper before I actually heard something on the radio that was worth hearing.
"Aimee, do you see Molly out there? She's in a green shirt and with a girl in yellow and another in pajamas? Don't let them on the floor...they reek of alcohol. I think there's vodka in that coke bottle."
I lifted my head to make sure I'd heard correctly.
"Holy shit, I think you're right, they're tripping over everything, and..." Aimee paused, holding her walkie talkie away to scream something that I couldn't make out. Then she came back asking, "What do I do?"
"Bring them and the evidence to my office," I said into the radio, my exasperation obvious.
There was a silence on the other end of the line and finally I heard the glum voice say, "Okay, be there in a minute." I assumed that having seen me infuriated a couple of times, Aimee felt quite sorry for having to bring the girls to me.
And I was definitely infuriated! I loved the kid to death, but the fact that she was drinking alcohol on top of her blatant disobedience was something that I wouldn't tolerate, cute or not. After all of the legal courses I'd taken, I knew too well that slippery floors and drunk teenagers could lead to lawsuits, and a lawsuit would mean bankruptcy because neither the skating rink nor I would be able to afford to get us out of that mess.
By the time I heard a soft knock at the door, my face was flushed with anger. "Come in," I ordered.
There was a moment's hesitation, but the door crept open, revealing Aimee and the three culprits.
I held out my hand. "Molly, bring me that," I commanded.
"But it's not mine," she said, still acting goofy, whether from the alcohol or from putting on a show for her friends, I wasn't sure. Her two friends looked solemn, though, so I figured either Molly had drunk most of the alcohol, or she was a good actress.
The red-haired teen bounced towards me, braided pigtails bobbing with each step. "How ya doin'?" she asked, giggling, clearly trying to fake innocence.
"Not well," I answered, glaring at her as I snatched the drink away. "Sit."
"Geeze, I'm not a dog," she said, but plopped down in front of me anyway. I unscrewed the lid and took a quick whiff, feeling the scent of liquor graze my nose hairs. I closed my eyes and counted to 10 in my head so as not to react too strongly, then looked towards Molly's friends.
"You two, tell me your involvement with this."
They exchanged glances then looked pathetically at me. "She told us it was alcohol but we didn't believe her and that's why we drank it!" said the pajama-girl in one breath.
I shook my head. "Alcohol is not allowed here, do you understand? There is a big sign on the front door that prohibits it. If ever someone tells you they have alcohol, it's your responsibility to tell one of the workers, understood?"
They both nodded.
"You're too young to be drinking, anyway," I muttered, sighing and replacing the cap on the bottle. "Aimee, call their parents to come and pick them up." The girl in yellow opened her mouth to protest, but I interjected. "Be thankful that I'm only sending you home tonight. Another manager would likely ban you from the skating rink for life." She quickly closed her mouth and looked down at the floor.
"Brian... are you sure? It's the middle of the night," Aimee said, playing the good cop.
My eyes narrowed and I allowed myself to turn softie again. "Fine, but they're sitting out until I say otherwise... and keep an eye on them. If they screw up at all, they're going home. No more chances."
Aimee nodded and the three of them scurried off together, slamming the door behind them. I turned to glare at Molly. "Molly Riana Collins, what in the world were you thinking?" I said, letting some of my rage out.
"I told ya Brian, it's not mine, I didn't know what was in it," she said, still acting goofy.
"What did I tell you about this bottle?" I asked, avoiding her obvious lie. She shrugged.
"What did I tell you, Molly!?" I shouted, slamming my hand on the desk and making her jump slightly. She'd only seen me this upset once before, when I'd caught her stealing money.
She froze, realizing now that I meant business. "N-not to bring it outside the concession area."
"How many times, Molly?"
"T-two."
"And not only did you disobey, but you're also trying to pass the blame onto someone else, which if I remember correctly, we already had a discussion about, didn't we?"
"Y-yes," she stammered.
"Do you understand why you can't have drinks on the floor?"
"Not really," she muttered, chewing on her fingernail.
"What if it spills and someone slips on it?"
She shrugged.
"Answer me: what if it spills and someone slips?"
"They could get hurt?"
"And do you know what would happen if they got hurt?"
She looked up at me, eyes beginning to water. "Brian, come on, it's not that big a deal."
No way, those tears weren't going to sway me, not this time! "They could sue the skating rink and get us shut down is what could happen." I paused, nostrils flaring. "And alcohol, Molly? Really? I know you've seen the huge sign outside that says no drugs or cigarettes or alcohol allowed, but even if you hadn't, you know better than to bring it to the place you work!"
She didn't say anything, just hung her head.
"I could fire you for this, or even call the police."
She looked up at me, eyes glazed over with tears, putting on her best puppy face that always seemed to get her what she wanted.
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