Anything but Normal - Melody Carlson [27]
She just nodded and stared down at the wastebasket. Don’t hurl, don’t hurl, don’t hurl, she told herself.
“To be perfectly honest, I had planned to ask you to fill this position.”
She looked up with wide eyes. “Had planned?” Did he know something?
He cocked his head slightly to one side. “Are you feeling okay?”
She took in a quick breath and forced a shaky smile. “Yeah, sure.”
He nodded but looked skeptical. “As I was saying, I had planned to ask you to be chief editor, Sophie. You’re the most qualified for the job, and before school started, I figured it was a no-brainer.”
She didn’t know what to say. What was his point? Even if he did know she was pregnant, which really seemed unlikely, would he use that to discriminate against her? And if so, would she fight it? Could she?
“But then school began, and, well, it just doesn’t seem like you have the same kind of enthusiasm you’ve exhibited in the past.” He studied her. “Something about you seems to have changed. Or maybe you’ve just decided that journalism isn’t where it’s at anymore.”
“I love journalism.”
“That’s a relief.”
She pressed her lips together.
“Is everything okay with you, Sophie?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
“Something going on in your personal life?”
Without making eye contact, she just shook her head.
He sort of chuckled. “It’s not that I want to hear about your love life or anything like that. But I do know that it’s not easy being a teenager. Never has been. And hearts get broken right and left.” He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, as if he was unsure how to proceed.
“If I’ve seemed less enthusiastic,” she began carefully, “it’s not because I’ve lost interest. I mean, really, I do love journalism. But . . . you’re right, I am going through something—kind of a broken heart. I just really don’t want to talk about it, okay?” She looked him in the eyes, and he actually seemed relieved.
“That’s what I suspected.” He smiled. “If it’s any consolation, these things always get better with time.”
“Thanks.” But all she could think was that this particular thing would only get bigger with time—and much, much worse.
“And sometimes the best medicine is to lose yourself in something you love, like journalism. It’s a good distraction.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “So, what do you think? Do you want to be this year’s chief editor?”
Whether it was the kindness in his voice or the touch of his hand, something in her just shattered, and she knew she was about to cry. Without answering him, she turned and dashed from his office, tore out of the journalism room, and headed straight for the bathroom and into a stall. Not to barf but to bawl.
As Sophie was blowing her nose, she heard a tapping sound. “Huh?”
“It’s Justina,” a quiet voice said. “Mr. Young sent me to check on you.”
Justina Coughlin was another journalism geek. Shy and unsure of herself, she sometimes loomed behind Sophie, quietly observing as Sophie worked on something. She reminded Sophie of a shadow.
“I’m fine,” Sophie said.
“Are you sick or something?”
Sophie opened the door and stared at Justina. She was about the same height as Sophie, but stick-thin and not in the model-cool way. With stringy, dishwater-blonde hair and a complexion that resembled a childhood disease, Justina wasn’t exactly a head turner. “I’m fine,” Sophie said again.
“Were you crying?”
Sophie shrugged as she went for the sink, ran cold water, and splashed it onto her face.
“Did Mr. Young say something mean to you?”
Sophie tore off a paper towel, dried her face, and turned back to Justina. “No, he didn’t say anything mean. Not that it’s any of your business, but he asked me to be chief editor.”
“Oh.” Justina looked confused and hurt, and Sophie felt guilty.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie said quickly. “It’s not your fault.”
“So . . . you’re upset because Mr. Young asked you to be chief editor?”
“Not exactly.” Sophie sighed. “Maybe I’m just hormonal.”
“PMS?” Justina pressed. “I know what you mean. I get it really bad too. My mom’s the same way.”
“Yeah.” Sophie nodded as if that was the problem.