Noted

Chapter 13

"Interns! Welcome to the New York Times!" said Nicolas Lake, intern manager and obvious sarcasm enthusiast. "Woo-hoo, okay. You are here because, apparently, you can write. If you can continue to show that your work is worthy of being published, then you may be able to stay  after the internship is over. Only one person gets the opportunity, so make it your job to work as hard as you can so that the one person could be you."

I felt all sorts of excitement at my first internship meeting. I met most of the remarkable writers that worked there, as well as my new intern-colleagues. Everyone was surprisingly friendly and even sometimes hilarious. I could definitely see myself there for a long time, if they'd let me stay; and if, by some miracle, I could have a future as a "murderer in hiding". Aside from the deep-rooted criminal issues that haunted me, I was totally in my element. I knew how the process worked; since my grandfather pretty much taught me everything that had to do with journalism. I knew how to get my work done, on top of everyone else's.

"Your submissions are your rankings," announced Mr. Lake. "You were all classified by your work that you submitted in order to determine who qualifies for which task."

He scanned the room and added, "Jeremy Woods, you will be helping Mr. Vanderwall with the weather segment..."

As Mr. Lake went down the list, delivering tasks and responsibilities to each intern, my heart raced more and more. I hoped that my my submission would be worthy enough to get me a bigger task than fetching coffee for meetings in which I wasn't even involved.

"Alexandra Roulinsky," Mr. Lake continued, "You will be assisting with the Theatre column with Ms. James. And last but not least; Quinn Moore, you will be an extra pair of hands on the Olivia Swan case for the news column... with me."

That was it. My life was officially over.

Just as the meeting came to an end, I followed Nicholas Lake down the hall.

"Mr. Lake!" I called.

"Is there a problem, Miss Moore?" He continued to walk as he perused his paperwork in his hands that I couldn't help but think was evidence from the case. I tried not to look at it.

"I was just wondering..." I asked apprehensively. "Why you placed me in news since my article was more on the topic of arts and culture." I was trembling slightly from the stress I felt inside my body. Mr. Lake didn't notice. Or, if he did, he gave no evidence of having noticed.

"Miss Moore, I gave you the best position I could ever give an intern and you want to be in the arts and culture department?" he asked, I had clearly offended his choice of giving such an honour.

I simply nodded, not wanting anything that I didn't want to say slip out.

"I gave you a spot on the Olivia Swan case because you had the best submission," he explained. "And due to your exemplary research techniques, I thought you'd be a great addition to the case."

I didn't speak another word. I couldn't argue with that.

"I won't change your assignment, Miss Moore," he said. "I know you will do well in the news department; you just need to believe in yourself a little more." He smiled and walked away.

Little did he know that it was my dream to be in the news department, just, not on that particular case. Clearly, however, I couldn't say anything of the sort. If it would have been any other case, I would have been on top of the world, but, seeing as it was a case of a crime I had committed, I couldn't help but now wish that I had never gotten the internship in the first place.

When I returned to classes, I began to be distracted. All I could think about were ways to steer the case away from me by creating insane story plots in order to make myself seem less and less guilty. I barely listened in class. I even flunked a math test, but I couldn't have cared less. My life was over anyway. If I couldn't pull off my best acting skills, it was going to be easy for the authorities to track me down. There was no time to waste. I absolutely needed to find a way to distract my colleagues.