Ethan gestures for us to sit. We slide into the leather armchairs across from his desk, Donovan clutching his Brew Box cup like a lifeline, me feeling like I’ve been called to the principal’s office. And then we wait while Ethan fiddles with his keyboard, looking anywhere but at each other.
“So,” Ethan says at last, “let me properly introduce you. Rune Whitlock, creative genius, meet Donovan Frost, Smashbox’s gifted senior developer and data engineer.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, even though so far, it’s been anything but.
Donovan gives me a stiff nod in return. He doesn’t offer to shake my hand.
“Rune normally works from home,” Ethan says, unfazed by what must be Donovan’s usual attitude. “She isn’t typically here at Smashbox. But you’ve seen her work, Donovan. She updated our logo, redid our website, handled all the collateral for the Ciderology campaign, which as you might remember, won a Green Dot Design Award…” He goes on, listing my accomplishments like I’ve hired him to do my PR. The Ice Man sips his coffee, showing no indication of thawing, listening like maybe there’s going to be a quiz on it later.
“And Donovan,” Ethan says when he’s run out of things to say about me, “designed the Titan security app, which has made our company alotof money. You would know, Rune; you worked on their marketing campaign. He’s an unparalleled data engineer and an app developer in one, which is somewhat of an unusual combination. He’s an analytics guru; you’re the expert at making things look good. The two of you have vastly different skill sets. Which is why you’re perfect to collaborate on this project.”
“Let me get this straight,” I say when I’m sure he’s done. “We’re the perfect collaborators because we’re…opposites?”
“Exactly.” Ethan looks pleased. “And your skills complement each other nicely. That’s what we need here—out-of-the-box thinkers who can design a gorgeous product that will function smoothly behind the scenes and on the front end, with the graphic user interface. I know you don’t normally come into the office, Rune, but this is different. To get the creative synergy you need, the two of you will be collaborating in person, every day.”
He's speaking English, but somehow, I must have misunderstood. “I can’t…work from home?”
Ethan shakes his head. “Not on this one. Sorry. I want the two of you together, in the same space. Bouncing ideas off each other. Able to spin your chairs around when you come to a brilliant conclusion and brainstorm face-to-face.”
“You want me to share myoffice?” Donovan’s jaw tightens, as if Ethan’s told him we need to share a bedroom, instead.
“Is that a problem?” Ethan says, eyebrows knitting. “Because if so?—”
“No.” The fingers of Donovan’s free hand beat a tattoo on his knee. “Not at all.”
But, of course, it’s all too clear that itis.
I have to fight the feeling that settles over me, the familiar voice that rears its ugly head:not wanted, not good enough, wrong wrong wrong.A lifetime of growing up in foster care—never the right kid to keep, shunted from house to house for being too strange, knowing things that families would rather keep secret—gave that voice years of fodder. Even the kids at school wanted nothing to do with me.The weird girl. The girl with no parents. The girl who talks to herself, the girl who stares into space, the girl who thinks she can see the future, the freak.Only Charlotte stuck by me, and because her mother was the mayor of Sapphire Springs, that helped a little. But her mother never liked me much, either.
I tend to make people uncomfortable, if they spend enough time with me. Even though I’m cursed to never have them believe my predictions, they still sense I’m different somehow. The only place I’ve ever felt like I fit in, other than at home with my cat, Valentine, is with Charlotte’s family, and that’s mainly because her daughters are too young to know any better. But I’ve worked hard at putting on an act, smiling and asking the right questions and working hard to make sure people feel at ease. Donovan never even had a chance to get to know me before hedecided he couldn’t stand me. That shouldn’t hurt, but somehow it does.
“I won’t go through your files,” I say, too loudly. “Or…or touch your computer screen. Or steal your passwords. Or whatever it is you think I’m going to do.”
Donovan’s nostrils flare. “You couldn’t steal my passwords if you tried.”
As if to punctuate his statement, thunder booms, so close I swear Ethan’s windows tremble. A moment later, the sky opens up and rain pours down, streaking the glass. Hello, terrible omen.
Ethan is undeterred. “Donovan is very particular. It’s what makes him such a good engineer. You’ll loosen him up a little, Rune. It’ll be good for him,” he says, like Donovan isn’t in the room at all.
Donovan chugs his coffee as if he wishes it were something stronger. He doesn’t say a word.
“Um,” I venture, watching lightning flash over the mountains, “you haven’t said what the project is. Or the timeline. Or the deliverables. Or, come to think of it, the client.”
“Haven’t I?” Ethan frowns at an email that’s just popped up on his computer screen, then glances back at me. “The timeline is six months, starting now. I hate to be cloak-and-dagger about it, but our client has asked to remain anonymous. I suggested an NDA as an alternative, but…” He shrugs. “All I can say right now is that the project involves creating a package to compete with genealogy software like 23andMe and Ancestry. We’ll be revealing more information to both of you on a need-to-know basis.”
“Six months?” For the first time, I hear a crack in Donovan’s impassive façade. “You expect me to do this by myself…in six months…alongside my other responsibilities?”
“Of course not. This will be your only project. And you’re spearheading it, not lone wolf-ing it, obviously. As I said earlier, you’ll pull in teams as you need them, based on my approval. App developers, UX designers…”
“But—but—” Donovan runs his hand through his hair. “I’m in the middle of the Nebula project. You’ve got me crunching data for at least two other clients. What am I supposed to do about them?”
“Hand them off,” Ethan says, rising to his feet. “You’ve got a competent team. Take advantage of them.”
“But—” Donovan says again.
“I’m sorry. I know you like to finish what you start, but this is too good an opportunity to pass up. It could do wonders for the company. Get your name on this, Donovan, and people will be lining up at your door. Yours, too, Rune.”
I want to tell him that I have no desire to have anyone lining up at my door. That I’m happy with my life as it is—or, if not happy, at least able to maintain it. I may not have a family, someone to love, or answers about where the hell I came from, but at least I’m stable, which is more than I’d ever hoped for. My experience with change—and I have a lot of it—has rarely been good.
