Chapter 11

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Hey guys!

This one's a bit more dramatic...but still a tad funny! I'm going to be uploading a few times today, so stay tuned for more chapters <3

I love you guys so much

I'm not feeling that much better, but I'm slowly on the mend!! Thanks for you guys that care =) Means a lot

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Chapter 11

“Good morning, team,” Mr. Masters said, sipping from a brand new, bright red coffee mug. It conveniently went perfectly with the scarlet-striped button down he wore tucked into his usual pair of ironed khakis.

I wonder when he shops for clothes if he also tries to find coffee mugs to go along with them…does Mr. Masters believe a coffee mug is an accessory?

No one said anything as I idly thought about his shopping habits.

Except, of course, for Miss Kiss-Up, and unfortunately, the EIC.

“Good morning, Mr. Masters!” Nicki chirped, decked in a pale pink skirt, matching blouse, and hideous flats.

I’m sorry Elle Woods, but Legally Blonde is officially off the air.

Nicki had her laptop already out, busy clicking away at who knew what.

Tom yawned next to me, playing Pac-Man on his phone.

Of course.

“Let me guess,” I whispered next to him. “You are absolutely addicted to Pac-Man.”

“Am not,” he whispered, eyes never leaving his phone screen. I watched Pac-Man run away from the orange ghost, munching little orange dots and skillfully maneuvering away, only to be trapped by the blue ghost.

“Today, we print the second issue of Harper Weekly. Nicki, I assume you’re emailing me the final drafts?”

“Yep!” she said, pressing a final key with a flourish. “All sent!”

“Excellent,” Mr. Masters took another swig of his coffee. That stupid red mug was like a beacon, and I found myself drawn to it every time it moved.

“No! No no no no no no no no! No! Go Pac-Man, go!” whispered a frantic Tom next to me.

“Noooooooooooo!” he moaned next to me, shutting his phone.

“Karl,” Mr. Masters said sharply. “This is a meeting. No phones allowed.”

“But Mr. Masters, Kate and I are finished with everything!” Tom protested. “We’ve already sent our drafts to Nicki and everything! Please? I’m playing Pac-Man!”

The corners of Mr. Masters’ mouth quirked upwards. “Only if I get a turn.”

Are you kidding me?

I rolled my eyes, staring, bored, at my shoes.

“You know how to play?” Tom asked, bewildered.

Mr. Masters snorted. “How old do you think I am?”

“Uhhhhhhhhh.”

I snickered, looking at Tom from the corner of my eye.

“Thirty-seven?” he guessed nervously.

“HA!” the English teacher yelled. “I’m only thirty, Mr. Thatcher!”

I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”

His brows knit together. “Yes, why?”

I chuckled. “You act wayyy older than that…”

His face turned nearly as red as his coffee cup. “What?”

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