Big Chicas Don't Cry(19)

My plans flew out the window, probably along with my composure, when Sister Catherine opened up her big mouth.

“Tony, did you know that Gracie is an alumnus just like yourself? In fact, I think you two must have graduated the same year. Isn’t that right, Gracie?”

Dear God, I’m going to faint. Please don’t let me faint. Amen.

My cheeks, along with the rest of my face, caught fire as I slowly raised my eyes to meet his. I could tell he was trying to place me. His brow furrowed. His eyes squinted. And then, suddenly, there it was: recognition. I was no longer Gracie Lopez, first-grade teacher. I was Gracie Lopez, the chubby, drab, awkward brown-haired girl he had known, but never really known, for four years.

“Oh yeah.” He smiled. “Gracie. Now I remember. Wow—I almost didn’t recognize you. You, you look better, er, I mean different.”

After a couple of snickers from the female faculty members, Sister Catherine went back to our in-service meeting. And I went back to wishing I could disintegrate right there on the spot.

Tony Bautista was now responsible for two of the most embarrassing days of my life.





Chapter Ten


ERICA


“You buried the lede again, Ms. Garcia,” Adrian’s voice bellowed from the other side of my cubicle. My fingers froze on the keyboard of my computer, and I willed myself to not let out the exasperated sigh rolling in my throat. For the umpteenth time I cursed Charlie for giving Adrian the desk directly opposite mine. So what if it was also right outside his office and convenient for the two of them to talk back and forth? It sure as hell wasn’t convenient for me.

It had been two weeks since Adrian had joined the paper. Coincidentally, it had also been the hardest two weeks for me on the job. The man liked to criticize every sentence, every word choice. He did it with everyone, but because I happened to be the cabrona sitting within earshot of him, he seemed to voice his criticism with my reporting even more.

I took a breath and rolled my chair a few inches to the left so I could meet the glare I knew was waiting for me just above our shared partition wall. “Excuse me?” I asked as evenly as I could.

Adrian pointed to his computer screen. “I thought this story was supposed to be about how the board is going to vote next week on whether to implement later start times in the fall for the high school?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what the story is about.”

“Then why do you start it off describing this woman’s morning routine?”

My fists balled on my lap. “Because it shows how she has to drop off her four kids at three different schools before 7:50 a.m. in order to make it to her job on time and that any changes to the current school schedule will affect that. It shows that this vote isn’t just about start times. It gives the story a human perspective.”

Fortunately, I succeeded in not adding the word asshole to the end of my sentence.

Even without the insult, Adrian still shook his head disapprovingly. “I understand why you interviewed her. What I don’t get is why you start the story with her. You need to start it with the facts—what the board is voting on, when it’s voting, why they’re voting, et cetera, et cetera. After you set up the facts, then you can go into your interviews with the parents who support it and the ones who don’t.”

Obviously, I knew the facts needed to be shared early on. But I wanted to draw the reader in. I wanted the reader to care about the vote even if they had no stake in it. Maybe I should’ve told Adrian that. Maybe I should’ve challenged him a little more.

Instead, I said, “Fine. Send it back to me and I’ll rewrite it next week. The vote isn’t until Wednesday, so it can run in Tuesday’s edition.”

“It’s still running Sunday as scheduled,” he said, looking directly at me. “You need to finish rewriting it today.”

This time I didn’t hold back. “That’s impossible,” I argued, my voice an octave higher than before. “I’m already on deadline for three other stories. And two of them I haven’t even started because one of my phone interviews isn’t for another hour.”

“Not my problem. Just get it done, Ms. Garcia,” he ordered before focusing back on his computer.

And just like that, Adrian had dismissed me.

Impulsively, I picked up a pen off my desk and gripped it tight. If Charlie hadn’t walked out of his office at that exact moment and smiled at me, my Bic pen would have taken flight over the partition headed for a direct collision with Adrian’s temple.

The realization of what I’d almost done shook me. I needed to get out of there. I needed caffeine and lots of sugar.

“I’m going to grab a coffee from downstairs.”

He barely nodded, but I took it as a sign of permission that I could leave and walked as fast as I could to the lobby elevator. The doors opened. That’s when I realized I’d forgotten my wallet.

“Dammit,” I whispered and made a U-turn back into the newsroom. Good thing Adrian wasn’t at his desk. I didn’t think I could take one more example of how I’d messed up the article. Why did he enjoy picking apart my work so much?

Ugh. He was such an arrogant prick.

I yanked my wallet too quickly out of my purse, causing it to fall off my desk, and everything inside spilled in various directions all over the floor.