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eventfully

Work the next day was intimidating. It was the busiest I’ve ever seen it in the break room, everyone hunched over the latest rough draft of this month’s issue. People sounded concerned, especially when I entered the room, but I didn’t give it much of a thought. Diamond probably started another rumour that I was planning on getting liposuction. She can’t keep feeding them the same story, or they’ll stop believing her. (“The Girl Who Cried Self-Hatred.”)

I got my coffee and left as fast as I could. Carter was probably waiting for me, but I wasn’t too concerned with giving him a false explanation of the contents of the package. He knows a few things about keeping secrets, so I figured I could tell him the straight-up truth. He’d know if I was lying, anyway.

“Oh my God, there you are,” Sally said, appearing at my side as I entered Editing. “Have you seen the latest draft of the issue?”

“I just got here,” I told her, tugging gently at the lapel of my coat to illustrate that I’d only just entered the building. “Is it good?”

Sally gave me a look. “Well, there’s no changing it. Evans already approved the Featured section for print.”

“So we’re ahead of schedule? I thought we were missing an entire half page of content,” I said, not even trying to mask my confusion. I opened my office door and handed Sally my coffee so my hands were free to remove my coat.

“You left before the Features Parade came down with their latest bullshit story,” she said. “Only… maybe it’s not bullshit?”

“Oh? Who is the Poor Unfortunate Soul this month? Somebody from that show about the teenage vampires?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d see Carter right away if I were you. I think he still has his copy.”

“Carter has a breakfast meeting,” I said, nodding towards his closed office door. (“Breakfast meeting,” in Carter Speak means, “booty call that carried over into the morning.”)

“It’s important,” Sally insisted, handing me my coffee and walking off as quickly as she could, as though she didn’t want to be around when I saw the draft. Did this have anything to do with the whispers about me in the break room? Knowing Unique Magazine, it had to be. What was it this time? Some “indirect” insult that was very obviously intended for me, or a misspell of my name in the Editing section?

Sally hadn’t even given me a chance to reply before she was off, probably to rejoin her hip with Tracy’s. They were known around Unique as “Stacy” because outside of Editing, you never really saw one without the other. They were like those annoying girls in middle school that talked almost exclusively in whispers to one another and were “too shy” to speak to anybody else.

I set my coffee down on my desk and eyed Zayn’s portfolio carefully. It was propped against the box containing my rejected dress because he hadn’t stopped back here after our disastrous coffee run. Maybe he did that on purpose, so he’d have an excuse to come back. That seems like something boys do.

I debated it momentarily before walking to Carter’s office. Whenever I passed people, their conversations halted and they just stared at me, watched me go. It felt like I stumbled blindly into a cave and awoke thousands of bats, beady little eyes trained on me all at once. I kept my head down and walked faster, as though that would turn me invisible. I wish it had.

I knocked three times on Carter’s door for the syllables of my first and surname. The faint noise from inside stopped all at once. Carter called, “Penny?”

And I called back, “In the flesh.”

There was a pause, and then loud footsteps running towards the door. Carter threw the door open, eyes wide, and practically launched me over his head as he dragged me in and shut the door. I was impressed that there wasn’t anybody else in the room, but maybe I shouldn’t speak so soon; there are plenty of places to hide in here. “I’m glad you’re here. I know what was in your box.”