Page 10 of Playing With Fire

Definitely a disaster.

I grab Darcy and follow Liz past rows of desks, more cozy reading areas, and shelves overflowing with books that I may never get to explore.

Her office is small but bright, with wall-to-wall bookshelves and a huge window overlooking the street. I lower Darcy beside one of the chairs and sit.

Steve follows us in and closes the door behind him. That seems unnecessarily ominous.

Liz settles behind her desk while Steve takes the chair beside me, a slim folder balanced across one bouncing knee.

“First,” Liz says, “we owe you an apology.”

This is it—a polite apology and a one-way ticket back to Evergreen.

“Okay.” I sit a little straighter and brace.

“We had an unusual situation with the fellowship this year. Our current fellow was asked to extend her placement through December. Sara was handling the transition, including notifying you about how the extension would affect your fall placement and housing.”

Steve shifts beside me. “She had technically started the process, but–”

“Unfortunately,” Liz continues, “Sara went into labor several weeks early.”

“Oh, no.” That’s what they mean by out. My shoulders loosen slightly. “I hope everyone is okay.”

“Mom and baby are both doing well,” she adds quickly. “But everything happened much sooner than expected. In the rush to transfer her responsibilities, it appears your notification was missed.”

My fingers tangle in my lap. “I’m sorry. Notification of what, exactly?”

Liz exchanges a glance with Steve.

“That the fellowship position you accepted wouldn’t be opening this fall as originally planned.”

For one second, I’m sure I heard her wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Liz winces. “The position—and the company housing attached to it—are both occupied through the end of the year.”

And there it is.

The company housing. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was mine… almost. The apartment that I have constructed and reconstructed over and over in my mind—and my journal—the last three months. My imaginary couch, my secondhand reading chair, the tiny table for takeout, the shower with the groaning pipes, the questionable fire escape, and the worn little desk where I planned to start my career.

Gone.

Except technically, it was never mine.

“I see.” I nod slowly, because apparently my body is capable of responding even if my brain isn’t.

I do not see.

I see absolutely nothing except the Welcome to Evergreen sign.

“We only discovered the missed notification when Angela was reviewing your arrival paperwork,” Liz says. “We would, however, very much like you at Wilder House.”

My heart gives a confused little thump.

Steve clears his throat. “We’d like to offer you a position in our paid editorial internship program.”

“The internship?” I look between them.

“We know it isn’t the fellowship,” Liz explains. “I want to be completely transparent about that. The compensation is different, and unfortunately, company housing is exclusive to the fellowship.”