Page 79 of All That Glitters

Marigold Belmore

Put me in a bunny suit and call me the White Rabbit because I’m late. I jog through the quad, dodging students and dirty looks because I fell asleep at my desk. Again. It was only the incessant buzzing of my phone that woke me up before the paper’s work period. Thankfully, Jameson didn’t stop calling until I answered. It took three tries.

“Sorry!” I shout as I run through an awkward blob of a friend group that takes up too much of the pathway.

My messenger bag bangs against my hip, sure to leave a bruise with all the books in there. Plenty of people show up late to work period, but I don’t. Especially not when we’re likely to get Charlie’s feedback on our recent article submission today. The last thing I need is him thinking I don’t care enough to be on time. I’ve finally gotten his attention.

I practically slide into the building, my chest heaving and my head light. Sprinting on an empty stomach is not the brightest idea. But I made it, and that’s what matters. I rush inside and to my desk just as Charlie is walking out of his office.

“Just in time, Belmore. I want you and Sinclair in my office,” Charlie says, dipping his head toward the door and reentering the room.

I set my bag on top of my desk and try to subtly suck in a breath. Paisley raises her brows and mouths you okay? I nod even though I’m not entirely sure.

My next glance is at Jameson, who meets me in the aisle with a frown.

“Did you sprint here? You could have been a few minutes late.”

I shake my head. “Charlie needs us, so it wouldn’t have been good to show up late. He’d think I wasn’t dedicated.”

Jameson’s brow furrows with concern.

“Goldie—”

I grab his arm and squeeze it. “After the meeting, please,” I request softly.

He sighs but acquiesces. We walk into Charlie’s office and I take the chair, grateful for its presence. I give him my best smile. He does not return it.

“I’m sorry to say this, but I was a little disappointed with this article,” Charlie begins.

The pounding of my heart doesn’t slow. I grip the arms of the chair. A bead of sweat drips down my spine beneath the sweater I’m wearing.

“It felt … stagnant. Dull. Rote.”

Each word is a knife to my abdomen. I can’t bear to look up at Jameson, who’s standing next to me.

“Your previous articles had this original tenacity that you don’t find often in college reporting. I expected that same level of execution here.” He picks up a sheet of paper. “I’ve left my critiques here for you.”

He holds it out, and Jameson takes it because I’m still gripping the chair.

“Would you like us to edit it and bring it back to you?” Jameson asks.

Charlie leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers over his stomach.

“No, I don’t think editing would fix things. I’d like an entirely new article.” He sighs as if this problem is a nuisance. “The trouble is, we send the paper to print in two days—”

“We can have it to you by tomorrow,” I blurt out.

Charlie’s eyebrows rise. “If you could, that would be ideal. I don’t want to have to postpone a series I’ve gotten good feedback on.”

“We can do it,” I reassure him. “We’ve got all of our notes, and I can make sure this article is up to your standard.”

“Good. Then this problem is settled. I’ll see your article on my desk by tomorrow afternoon.” He claps his hands together. “Best get to work.”

“Thank you for the opportunity,” I say. Jameson doesn’t utter a word.

I stand up on shaky legs and leave the office first, still not looking at Jameson. I’ve just committed us to an insane deadline, but how could I not? Charlie would have been even more disappointed to wait another week or more.

“Goldie, can we talk in the hall?” Jameson asks from behind me.