Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 I gave the three men my most grown-up smile. "Hi, I'm Hank," I said. "I'm new here." The man with the mustache looked up from his menu. "Kind of short for a waiter, aren't you?" he asked. "For a second-grader, I'm pretty average," I answered. "Heather Payne is the tallest girl in our class, but most of us are this size. Now, what would you like?" Mustache Man sighed and shut his menu. "I'll have two eggs over easy, bacon crispy, fruit, no potatoes, and an English muffin, hold the butter," he said. My ears nearly fell off my head. How was I supposed to write any of that down? I froze. I

couldn't even write the word "egg." All that came out of my pencil was an Okay, Hank, I told myself. Don't panic. You'll just have to remember their order. You can do that. The bald man put his menu down and leaned forward. "Blueberry waffle, hot raspberry syrup, extra melted butter, and a turkey sausage." I could feel his words going in through my ears, but they raced around my brain like a pinball. I looked over at the guy with the ponytail, hoping that he was not hungry. But oh was he ever! He wanted lunch for breakfast. "I'll have your cheeseburger deluxe, extra pickles, Russian dressing on a toasted bun." Deluxe? I've never even heard that word before. And why would you want to see a Russian person dressing? The bald man flashed me a smile. "Look at you, smart kid," he said. "You didn't even have to write any of our order down."

"No, sir, it's all up here," I said, pointing to my head. I dashed over to Carlos to give him the order, trying to remember their words. "Hey, Little Man, I'm busy," he said. "I got eight omelets coming out for Table Eleven. Give your order to Vlady. He'll take care of you." Vlady is a big man with so much hair on his arms, his skin looks like he's wearing a sweater. I've known him since I was little. "Vlady," I said. "You have to listen to me fast before I forget everything." In a giant rush of words, the order came spilling out of my mouth.

"Slow down, Small Fry," Vlady said. That might be insulting coming from anyone else, but next to him, everyone is a small fry. "I can't slow down," I told him, "or I'm going to forget the whole order." Vlady listened and jotted down some notes. "Strange order," he said. "But your mother says the customer is always right." He shrugged, then turned to the griddle and started to cook.

"I've got a lot of orders coming in," he said. "You could really help me out by going back to the table and making sure their water glasses are full." I grabbed a pitcher of ice water. I had to use both hands because it was heavy. Holding it against my chest, I made my way over to Table Seven without spilling a drop. I was starting to get the hang of this waiter thing! I was also starting to have a frozen chest. "More water, anyone?" I asked the men. "Sure, that would be great," the man with the mustache answered, barely stopping the joke he was telling to the others.

His glass was pretty high up, and I was pretty low down. I stood on my tiptoes and pulled the glass to the edge of the table so I could reach it better. I lifted the pitcher with both hands and started to pour. Unfortunately, there was no glass in the area I was pouring. Water spilled out onto the table and dripped off the edge and into the man's lap. He jumped up from his chair and screamed like he had seen a mouse. "I'm s-so s-sorry, s-sir," I stammered. "I guess being a waiter isn't as easy as it looks." "Don't worry about it, kid," the man with the mustache said, picking up his napkin and