by Patrice Lyle
"Whenever you get something written up." Chip tapped on his keyboard. "Like I said, I'm sure it's nothing."
"Okay!" I replied, way too eager for his apathetic attitude. "Oh, sorry. I don't have a car with me today. But I will tomorrow."
"Take a company vehicle," he said without looking up. "Kim's got the keys."
"Got it. Thanks again." I felt like saluting before I spun around on one boot heel. "I got an assignment," I whispered to Robby as he rushed by. "It's at Sierra Pacific—"
"He gave you the protest?" One corner of his mouth cocked into a smirk. "Good luck with that."
"Thanks!" I beamed, retrieving my purse from the bottom drawer of my desk.
"He's being sarcastic," Kim said, coming up from behind and swatting his arm. "Stop it, Robby. She's new, she doesn't know."
Robby chuckled and strolled off, while Kim and I walked to the coat rack by her desk.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, glancing outside at the rain. I pulled on my trench and flipped up the collar.
"Um, it's kind of a hazing." She rolled her eyes. "They give newbies a protest for their first story because there're so many sit-ins and people bungee-cording themselves to bulldozers, stuff like that. New reporters get really excited, thinking it'll turn into a spotted owl headline or like when that lady lived in a redwood stump so they wouldn't chop it down. It's never anything though. Chip sends you out in the rain to talk to them anyway." She handed me the keys to a car and an umbrella. "You'll need this if you plan on using your iPad outside. IT will kill you if it gets wet."
People didn't use umbrellas much here. Like Seattle, it simply rained too often. And because of the wind, trenches, hoods, and wellies worked better anyway. I'd known not to bother bringing an umbrella home, so on the day I'd left New York, I'd bequeathed mine to the woman who lived under my fire escape.
"Thanks, I didn't think of that," I said, wearing a smile I couldn't wash off, no matter what anyone said. I didn't bother commenting on the rest of her explanation. Sure, this would probably turn out to be nothing, but at least it was a story. On my first day, I was being given a chance. I would be outside with the people…struggling to make their voices heard.
"One more thing," Kim added. "You might want to invest in a waterproof notebook. They sell them at Picky Picky Picky. Just, um…" She glanced over her shoulder. "Just don't let Eric see it."
CHALK LINES & LIPSTICK
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