揘o dates written in stone yet. You know how flaky Tinder dudes are,?I say, checking my phone again, willing time to slow down.
揇on抰 worry. You抣l make it,?Paige says with a sunny confidence I wish I had. 揚ersonally, I think you should rock the Miss Superstitious vibe. You抳e already got the name and we抳e been through this before棓
揜ight, and it always ends with the same question. Do I look like a teenager or a witch??I watch her lashes flutter as she bats her eyes so innocently.
God. I抦 starting to wish I was magic because if I don抰 make my bus…hello, doom.
As I抦 lunging for the door, I realize it抯 way too early for my night owl of a roommate to be out of bed. 揥hy are you awake, anyway??
揑抦 going to Lincoln Park to meet a potential client.?She runs a hand through her blond hair like it抯 totally natural for anyone to be so beautiful this early in the morning.
So maybe I wish I could steal her confidence along with her style mojo, too.
揑t抯 Friday the Thirteenth,?I remind her. 揃e careful.?
She sips her coffee with a loud snort. 揙h, you and your hocus pocus. Some of the best things ever happen on Fridays ending in thirteen.?
揕ike what??I call over my shoulder, but I don抰 have time to wait for her answer. I power stomp down the stairs without a second look, hoping she抯 right.
But seriously?
Good things?
Today?
No. Nope. Never.
Racing down the block, I glance at my bus stop…
…just as the bus drives away.
揝onofa棓 I cut myself off mid-curse when an old lady out for a stroll casts me a dirty glance.
Rather than daydream about how heavenly it must be to waltz around this early without panicking over a job, I push my lips against my coffee cup and slurp so loud I hope it scares someone.
Third time this month I抦 late. Happy happy, joy joy.
Luckily, no one at the office ever said anything the last two times. Mostly because I work my ass off and I always make up the time in the evenings.
I rage-gulp my coffee and then toss the cup in the trash, waiting on the next bus to come, keeping my eyes peeled for more bad luck.
So far, no velvety black cats on a personal mission to ruin my day.
Small consolation.
When I finally catch the next bus and stumble into the building抯 elevator, the metal doors start closing in slow motion right in front of my face.
I抦 already forty minutes late. Again.
No freaking way am I letting these doors shut before I抦 in. Stretching one foot in front of the shiny doors, I jiggle it, hoping to set off the sensor so they reopen.
Instead, they close.
Right over the spike of my high-heeled boot.
Oh.
Oh, God.
I gasp, terrified by the loud crunch! that erupts through the silence.
Bones?
Heart pounding, I wiggle my toes, bracing for the worst.
But my foot doesn抰 hurt at all.
It only caught my heel, tripping the sensor梩hough the second the door pings open, my mangled heel hits the floor. I throw myself in as fast as a girl on one heel can and scoop up the broken part with a sigh.
These things happen.
It抯 Friday the freaking Thirteenth.
If shearing off a heel and a late bus are the worst things today? I抣l be fiiine.
Except, from the instant the elevator stops on my floor, I know something抯 off. It抯 weirdly quiet inside Purry Furniture & More抯 downtown headquarters, and I抦 half expecting to see the cutesy black cats on the posters come leaping out after me with their claws drawn.
I also spot Vanessa, my boss, as soon as the steel doors pull apart. She stands at the front desk and smiles.
Not a nice one, exactly. More like a wooden smile that says, oh, hey, I抦 trying to pretend I have it all together, but I抦 actually juggling atomic bombs, and I抦 about to drop one in your lap.
What now? Is it my timing?
I step out, brandishing my heel.
揤anessa, so sorry I抦 late. My alarms were off and I had a little mishap with a hungry elevator, so…？Before I can even get my whole sob story out, she stops me with a raised hand, her fingers splayed apart.
揘o big, Sabrina. Can you come into my office for a sec? I need to talk to you.?
Odd.
So is her ominously formal use of my name. Why didn抰 she just call me Brina like always? Like everyone always has, since the dawn of time.
As I follow her, limping on my broken heel, I swallow a cold, bitter rock in my throat.
Friday the Thirteenth.
My boss wants to 搕alk.?
How screwed am I?
She wheels herself behind her massive glass desk with another awkward semi-smile and tents her fingers in front of her.
揥ell. Sabrina, there抯 no easy way to say this and you抮e too good for me to sugarcoat it, so here goes. You抳e been a fabulously talented, hardworking member of our Purry creative team. We absolutely love your designs; however…I抦 afraid we抮e facing budget cuts.?
揙h.?That sounds like a downer. But I抦 a valuable member of this team. I get things done! 揑…I thought you told me the designs I did were phenomenal? Half of them are hanging around the office.?
揂nd they are, yes. But the hard truth is, Mr. Tillis, the owner, believes it抯 time to take a look at hiring talent to save costs in the same places where our furniture is manufactured. Jack found a way to get similar graphic designs from Bangladesh at about one dollar a piece. They抮e not quite as polished as yours, of course, but…？
I抦 not listening anymore.
Jack? Did she just say Jack? Jackass?
揧ou mean the frat boy I抳e been training梪m, I mean, the桱ack the Intern??
Frowning, Vanessa clears her throat and nods.
Holy Hannah. It抯 hard not to roll my eyes right out of their sockets.
Now I get why the kid was so interested in buzzing around my desk to find out what parts of the process we梞eaning he梒ould automate or outsource. All for a shiny unpaid internship to slap on his college resume.
揝o this means I抦 fired??I ask numbly.
Her eyes widen in a Goodness, no! kind of way.
For a flimsy second, I think this day might not sink into the tar pit it抯 heading for.
揕et go,?she whispers, as if that softens the blow. 揗r. Tillis prefers the phrase right-sizing.?
I choke on the air in my lungs and focus on trying to breathe through cement so I don抰 flip her the bird by reflex.
You抳e got to love whatever evil genius came up with comically brutal corporate speak like right-sizing.
Whatever we call it doesn抰 change the cold, hard facts.
This is the third entry-level position I抳e lost this year.
The last time, in the spring, I had to beg Paige to cover my rent for a couple months. Hardly a burden for a girl who抯 grown up semi-wealthy, but I hated it with a vengeance.
I also chowed down on ramen noodles and instant mac and cheese for every meal. Going out for a six-inch sub felt like an extravagant use of my funds.
I抳e known young adult poverty in the big Windy City, and it sucks to suck. Definitely not something I want to revisit.
Vanessa stares at me with a worried look from across her desk.
With the resume-dusting, pavement-pounding, ass-kissing horrors of the job search swirling in my mind, I wonder if it抯 not too late to rewind and salvage this job. Make such a good impression during my exit interview that she decides she抯 making a terrible mistake.
If I could just get her to sweet-talk surfer dude cat furniture mogul CEO Tillis into keeping me on…
揤anessa, tell me one thing…is there anything I could抳e done differently? To help me at my next job??