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AVA
Influencer Denies Nose Job, Blames Sudden Facial Shift on the Moon.
My eyes twitched with irritation as I re-read the headline glaring back at me. It mocked my very existence. Four years getting a journalism degree only to document the moon’s gravitational pull supposedly causing facelifts. The subhead was worse:Internet Divided.
How?Whoin their right mind would even consider that this was true? It caused me literal pain to write crap like this. Yet, it was this that I relied on to pay the bills. My editor wanted the full article by three, so I’d better get to it.
Heaving a sigh, I rubbed my temple.
“Pulitzer here I come.”
As I started to write the article, I heard the sound of wheels on the carpet next to me.
A head with a mop of blonde curls popped around the thin wall separating our cubicles. Along with the torture of being subjected to the gossip column, I had to spend my days in a matchbox.
“Hey, Ava, are you okay?” Melody asked.
“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” I had to slather on a layer of false cheer, and I almost winced.
“Well, the sigh heard around the world sounded a little… I’ve-had-enough-and-I-might-jump-out-this-sixth-floor-window.”
My eyes narrowed on her pale, freckled face. “Are you projecting?”
Her shoulders dropped, and her eyes rolled almost to the back of her head. “Yes. Yes, I am. I’m the one who wants to jump out the window, Ava. Look at this.”
I wheeled my chair back to peek at her computer and read aloud, “I unintentionally joined a cult for free snacks. How do I leave politely?” I glanced at Melody with sheer amusement. “It’s signed Hungry but Enlightened.”
Melody huffed, and I had to purse my lips to hold back my giggle. I wasn’t sure which of us had it worse. Me with the gossip/entertainment column or her with the advice column. Our only saving grace was that our cubicles were side by side. Melody and I had been friends since we were kids.
“Journalism is dead,” she muttered.
“Mmm,just for us. We’re small fish around here.” The big shot— Walt, lord of theSpringfield Sentinel—got all the cool assignments.
“Scurry back to your cubicle, Ava,” Melody hissed. “The Komodo is coming.”
That was the code name for our boss, Allan Gale, editor-in-chief. Most times, he was like a Komodo dragon skulking around the office, searching for someone to devour… with his sharp words and demanding attitude. I reversed my chair as if it were a getaway car. One wheel caught in the carpet and did a little spin, causing my knee to bang against the desk. My coffee sloshed onto my keyboard. Hissing, I dabbed at the spill with the first thing my hand landed on, a Post-it.
Melody sniggered from the other side of the partition at the sound of my growling,“Son of a comma-splicing troll.”As a writer, I enjoyed getting creative with my swearing. Just as I got into place and pretended to work, Allan barreled past. He was on the phone, and he sounded pissed… typical.
“Walt, I don’t care if you’re on the moon having margaritas with ET himself. Get your ass back here. You’re doing this piece. He’s Massachusetts’ story, and we are Massachusetts.”
At that moment, keys paused mid-click, and every head popped up from its cubicle.
“What do you mean it’s not possible?” Allan barked as he walked into his office—the throne room—and slammed the door.
Melody jumped up. “Ava, it’s time.”
“I don’t even know what the assignment is,” I grumbled.
“Who cares? Go, kid!” Perry, the office’s grumpy grandpa, whisper-shouted.
No further encouragement was needed. I was up and power walking toward Allan’s office. To my left, I saw Mark practically sprinting in the same direction. My jaw dropped. That asshole. He knew the unspoken rule. Aside from Perry and the other older folks who were content where they were, the few who sought to climb the ladder took turns by order of seniority. I’d been at the Sentinel for five years. It was my turn to get a newsworthy assignment. Mark had only been here for four months.
Margaret, another contented elder, who wrote the business column, maneuvered her chair to block Mark’s progress. She winked at me over her glasses. I grinned as I dashed toward my chance.
Pushing the door open, I caught Allan in mid-rant. When his steely gray eyes landed on me, I realized I hadn’t knocked. Hastily yanking the door shut, I followed the polite order and lightly tapped on the door.
