Most sixteen year old girls spent their Saturdays in dressing rooms, pinching their hips and whining about the extra inch they'd just<em>kill</em>to rid themselves of.  Most sixteen year old girls spent their Saturdays stretched across their bed, legs dangling over the edge while they babbled into the mouthpiece of a phone, face flushing every time a particular boy's name was brought up.  Most sixteen year old girls spent their Saturdays, especially the Saturdays of a very important school dance, primping themselves so that they'd look absolutely perfect for their dates and photos later that night.<br/><br/>Sometimes, Emily really did wish she was most of the other sixteen year old girls in Agoura Hills.<br/><br/>This thought usually flit into her mind during one of the many rushes the Do-or-Diner experienced on the weekends.  Most Saturday or Sunday mornings, the small restaurant was packed and Emily had to practically balance dishes on her head in order to deliver all of the customer's orders in time.  Strangely enough, despite it being about ten in the morning, the majority of the booths and stools remained empty.  The television droned on in the background, and Emily realized that for once, she was able to actually<em>hear</em>what the newscasters were saying.  Usually there was so much noise during her shifts that she could barely even comprehend her own thoughts.<br/><br/>"You not goin' to Prom or anythin', Em?"<br/><br/>The familiar voice quickly drew her attention, and the young female allowed her gaze to lift from the packets of sugar strewn across the counter.  Pink, brown, blue, yellow... It was a boring job, sorting them into their proper positions within containers, but someone had to do it.  Otherwise there would be anarchy in the diner!  Nobody would be able to decipher the artificial sweeteners from the sugar!<br/><br/>"No.  Nobody asked, and Sophomores can't go alone."  Small shoulders slowly lifted and fell into a shrug before she turned back to her job, tiny fingers pinching the edges of each packet before sliding them into the correct color arrangements.  "Besides, I need the money.  I'm only six hundred away from that camera."  She flashed her employer an award-winning grin, causing a chuckle to escape the portly old woman.  "When I was yer age, I'd do everythin' I could ter stay away from workin'."  A beefy hand swung towards the windows carelessly.  "On beautiful days like this 'un, I'd be found galavantin' down by the beach and tryin' to soak up some sun."<br/><br/>"Yeah, but Addie.  You keep forgetting."  Dropping the packets of sugar, Emily rolled up her sleeves, fingertips drumming lightly against her pallid skin.  "Every time I wander out into the sun's rays I end up burning to a crisp.  Which isn't really fun for me.  So I'd much rather prefer to remain inside where its safe and I won't end up like a fried egg."<br/><br/>A loud, bellowing laugh escaped Addie while she snatched up a rag from the counter.  Inhaling sharply, she took a moment to catch her breath, head shaking lightly from side to side.  The edges of Emily's mouth remained pulled back, forming a wild grin, which slowly began to fade as she allowed the newscaster's voice to steadily immerse her in the television.  Her brow furrowed slightly as her elbows rested on the edge of the countertop, a cascade of russet waves falling over one shoulder.<br/><br/><em>'In other news: The government has recently announced a<br/>quarantine for a small town located in Arizona.  The town is<br/>believed to have been infected with a new strain of Anthrax,<br/>although, officials claim they have everything under control<br/>and the quarantine is just for extra precautions...'</em><br/><br/>"Hate the news," Addie barked suddenly, causing Emily to jump slightly in her seat.  Lumbering over towards the television, she quickly began flipping through the channels.  Emily couldn't help but notice that the majority of the new stations were either discussing some sort of quarantine (either the town in Arizona, or another one in Nevada) or warnings about a summer flu.  "Maybe we should get our shots," she suggested out loud, shifting her position on the stool, fingers curling around a hairband that hung loosely on one wrist.<br/><br/>"Doctors are full of bologna," the bulky employer scoffed, thick arms crossing over her chest while she peered over towards the young waitress.  "Just keep yerself healthy and the body'll fight off those lil' illnesses free o' charge."  With a wink, she straightened up and shuffled towards the kitchen, muttering something about having to help Arnold fix a faulty sink.<br/><br/>"Whatever you say, Addie," Emily snickered under her breath, pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail.  Then, she slumped forward, and returned to the exhilarating task of organizing sugar packets.