A Risk I'm Willing to Take

One

"Dean, if you'd just give me a minute!" I walked swiftly, chasing the Dean of my college down the hall.

"Dean, please give me a chance. I know I can make a story out of this." I stood defiantly in front of the doorway to the Dean's office. The Dean towered over me, I could smell the slight woodiness of his cologne.

The Dean ran his hand over his face. "What makes you think you're even qualified to take on this large of a project?"

"I expected you to ask me that and you're right, I'm 19 and a second semester freshman. I have only been at this college for a month and that makes me pretty new in town. However I believe that I have more than demonstrated my capabilities. For example, I am growing my social media presence and that has allowed me to network my opinions on social and political topics. I also read and post book reviews online on a forum dedicated to helping and empowering writers. Not to mention that while I am in my first semester at this university, I am already a writer for the school newspaper. Dr. Williams, I have an A in all of my classes, I'm thriving in the classroom while holding several important positions. I'm charismatic and adept at multitasking. I can do this."

"Did you really write a speech for this?"

"Of course I did." I chuckled.

"Gemma, you make good points, you're an excellent student and writer. That doesn't change that fact that what you are seeking to cover is just a big joke."

"Dr. Williams, I have to disagree with you on that one. The only reason it is being seen as a joke is because the only opinion being heard on it is that of Gen Xers and Baby Boomers. That is why I want to cover this. One and a half million people pledged they were going, the majority of them are Millennials like me. I want our story to be told in our voice. I'm tired of Millennials just being pinned as dumb kids who like memes."

"Gemma, a million and a half people are not showing up to storm area 51."

"Maybe not, but even if only 1% of those people actually turn up that's still fifteen thousand people. That's fifteen thousand stories as to why they came, what they hope to see. I want the public to hear those stories without the overhanging cloud of this being called a joke."

The Dean took a deep breath and fidgeted with his watch. "You know the school is never going to approve funding for you to fly out and cover this story."

"I need you to have faith in me, Dean."

"I always knew you were something special."

"Well thank you, writing's my passion and I plan to pursue it to the fullest degree." I smiled.

"Fine, I'll write an email to the President of the school and present this idea of yours."

"Thank you so much for your support, Dr. Williams."

"Get to class, Gemma." The Dean smirked at me as I walked back down the hall.

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I sat at my laptop, back in my dorm room, poring over my emails. There were so many. I had labels still trying to sign me after I'd said I'd never work for a label. I had classmates asking me about projects and due dates. I had the newspaper team emailing me about meeting up to discuss stories and publication. I even had social media updates on my page's analytics.

God I loved numbers. Something about being able to crunch data see results excited me. I was always looking to improve.

I loved writing and words because they could convey feelings that number couldn't. A number could represent the spread of that message or the scope of the problem I was covering but you don't feel a number in your heart.

I turned on my music and I started reading the latest book I had chosen to review.

It was a nice piece of fiction, something light and funny. Of course there was a romantic subplot but when wasn't there? It was a nice break from the heavier works of non-fiction that I had been reviewing recently.

About three chapters in I heard the door slam behind me. My roommate was back.

I took an earbud out and turned around in my chair.

"What's happened today, Lauren?"

"I just can't believe that she would do that! I mean it was so garbage! How could she? Does she not care how she makes other people feel?" Lauren had begun to cry.

I grabbed the box of tissues from my bedside table and handed it to her.

"Who is she?"

"Paige!"

Oh Paige, her teammate. They bicker a lot but nothing this major. Mostly just playing time related stuff.

"What di Paige do this time?"

"She slept with Connor!"

Uh oh. That would explain the hysteria and tears.

"Ok, but, you and Connor aren't dating anymore."

Lauren glared at me.

"Its girl code that you stay away from teammate's exes."

I sighed. "Lauren, you can't stop people from pursuing Connor."

"But she's hurting the team!"

"No she isn't, Lauren, she's hurting you. I know that you and Connor broke up only a week ago but you can't control him. And you can't control Paige." I sat down next to her on her bed.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. "We can't control what people do, but we can control how it makes us feel."

"What if Connor broke up with me because he wanted to sleep with Paige?" Lauren wiped her eyes and threw another balled up tissue onto the floor.

"Well then he's a dick and you're better off without him."

Lauren laughed.

"See, I know you know you could do so much better."

Lauren laughed. "Maybe." She curled up on her bed. "I'm gonna take a nap before dinner, ok?"

"Ok, I'll be reading." I stood up and walked back over to my desk.

"Nerd."

I smiled and started my music.