We reached the drama building and went inside. A few people clustered around the bulletin board. Nerves hit me hard. I hadn’t wanted to admit how much I cared about this… but the truth seemed undeniable now. I did care. I really did.
Aisha pushed forward and scanned the list.
“I’m on it,” she said quickly.
I gave her an encouraging smile. “Well done, I knew you would be!”
She turned back and kept looking. My nerves built steadily, along with a sense of disappointment. Of course, I wasn’t good enough to get another audition. Was I really even surprised?
“You’re there! I see your name!” Aisha spun around, grinning widely.
“What, really?” I couldn’t believe it.
The people in front of me left, some of them visibly disappointed not to have made it. I approached the list, and Aisha pointed to my name. She was right. There it was, in black and white.
Second auditions: Selena Carmichael.
My phone ringing interrupted us as we made plans to get together and practice before the audition. Aisha rushed off to class while I answered.
“Selena—”
“Oh my God, you’ll never guess what just happened!” I cut in, excited to share the news with my mom.
“Why aren’t you on your way to the office?” she said immediately, clearly not interested in hearing my good news.
“Wait, what? What office?”
“Sinclair Industries. I told you about the internship.”
“You told me about it generally, not that it’s right now.”
“I’m sure I did,” my mother said in a tone I knew well. It was the one she used when she knew she was in the wrong and was ready to fight to the death about it.
I blew out a slow breath. “Where am I supposed to be, and when?”
“The office down on Elm, and right now.”
“Great. Thanks.” I hung up and swore viciously. God. Not only was I being forced to intern in John Sinclair’s office, but now I was going to be late for my first day. Really professional. Perfect.
I turned in the direction of the road off campus, where I could catch a cab, or a bus if I was really lucky.
I caught sight of myself in the cab window as I got in and gave them the address my mom had messaged me.Damn it.I wasn’t exactly wearing office-appropriate clothes either. My mom would be horrified to know I was about to start my first day at her new husband’s workplace in ripped jeans, a holey band T-shirt, and a leather jacket.
Oh well.
That was just too damn bad.
The building was beautiful. An old, perfectly preserved historical site, just off Main Street. I pressed the buzzer at the entrance and waited nervously outside. I’d had no idea that there was a Sinclair Industries office here. It seemed too small a town.
The door buzzed, and I went inside.
A receptionist sat at a long, dark wood desk.
“How can I help you?” he asked and gave me a tight smile.
“I’m here to, um, work. I’m the new intern, I think,” I babbled.
The receptionist’s eyes narrowed to slits as he took in my outfit. The plaque on the corner of the desk read Richard.
