On a Slippery Slope

by Melody Fitzpatrick

  * * *

  After two weeks of working, with only one paycheque in my pocket, I’m standing here at my locker doing the mental math to figure out just how many paycheques I’ll need to cover the crazy-long list of things Gabby expects me to buy. Do I even have enough time?

  “So, what’s your plan?” A.J. demands, suddenly appearing at my locker.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people!” I bark. Besides scaring the crap out of me, he’s totally thrown me off in my calculations, which I have to start all over again, plus I’m pretty positive he’s asking me about my fundraising ideas, of which I have zero.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, innocently.

  “Fundraising ideas.” He grins. “You told Chloe you had tons?”

  “I have a few ideas.”

  “Cool, like what?” he challenges.

  “Okay, here’s one — we call all the local grocery stores and tell them we’ll bag groceries for tips. Kids back home did it all the time and raised tons of money. It’s a sure thing.”

  “Yeah, not a bad idea, but not doable this year.” A.J. shakes his head. “Chloe and I called every grocery store within forty miles and they all said the same thing — they need at least six months’ notice. So what else ya got?”

  Crickets … silence …

  “Nothing?” He flashes another incredibly annoying grin.

  “It’s been a busy week,” I reply, scowling.

  “Oh yeah, by the way, did you get your gear? Gabby said the movers lost your stuff. Bummer!”

  “I’ll have some fundraising ideas soon.” I say, ignoring his question.

  “Super, and Hannah, you don’t want to wait too long to get new gear. Ivy said they’re having a big clearance sale at her uncle’s store, and stuff is going fast.”

  “I’ve been doing some research,” I reply, honestly.

  “Me too!” he exclaims. “I just want to find that perfect board, you know?”

  “Yup.”

  “So what board are you looking at?”

  “Oh gosh.” I gasp. “Look at the time. I have to be at work in seven minutes.”

  “Seven minutes? Well, you better get going then, business-lady. Oh, and don’t forget, I’m looking forward to hearing more of your great ideas.” He winks.

  I’m pretty sure he is making fun of me. I look down at my watch and slam my locker shut. I have six minutes left.

  10

  No Laughing Matter

  Luckily it only takes one minute to get downstairs and out of the school and another three and a half minutes (running at top speed) to make it to the Channel Nine building.

  Rodrigo at reception looks up and smiles. “Cutting it kinda close, Hannah.”

  “Actually, Rodrigo, I’m one minute and thirty seconds early.”

  We’re both laughing when Cranky Lady, who I found out is named Gwendolyn, comes through the front doors. Gwendolyn is the vice-president of production. She knows everything about everything, and, according to Andy, she expects perfection at all times. She is a tall, thin, attractive woman with grey-blue eyes and short silver hair that’s always perfectly done. She must have a thousand pairs of shoes because she wears different heels every day. And suits! That’s all she wears. Either with skirts or pants; she’s always in a suit, and nice ones, too, tailored to fit her to a T. She is easily the most elegant woman I have ever seen in my life. It’s not hard to tell that she’s the boss.

  “Hannah, your hair,” Rodrigo whispers, shoving a little compact mirror in my hand. I look in the mirror, gasp, and quickly try to run my fingers through it to get the knots out. It is no use; it’s all over the place. What am I going to do? The words Gwendolyn said to me on my very first day of work are now front and centre in my brain — “Miss Smart, if you’re going to work here, then you must maintain a professional appearance at all times — clothing must be impeccably neat, makeup should be minimal and your hair …” She stopped at that point, shook her head, and let out a heavy sigh. “It must be cut … a minimum of six inches.”

  So, then I said, “Six inches? Do I have to?” Rodrigo shook his head no.

  This made Gwendolyn really mad. She shot Rodrigo an angry glare and then turned back to me and said, “Well … legally, I can’t enforce this, of course, but, Hannah, you must realize your hair is long and unruly and needs styling. I will talk with Andy and have her arrange for you to meet with our stylist. This has to happen immediately. Do you understand?” She lowered her steely eyes to meet mine. I nodded. “A properly groomed employee makes a hard-working employee. Do you agree?” I nodded again. “Good. The next time I see you, I expect perfection, and, at the very least, a trim. Is this okay? Do you think this is possible?” Of course, I nodded yes again.

  Now Gwendolyn is talking to a man in an expensive-looking grey suit. He must be important because she is (uncharacteristically) smiling, even laughing, and touching his shoulder every few seconds. She’s either star-struck, in love, or desperately trying to impress this guy.

  “I can assure you, Phillip, that we are making great strides toward broadening our audience. We are looking to diversify our programming so we will appeal to younger and older audiences.”

  “Yeah, I’m impressed with the new weather guy you hired,” Phillip replies. “I’ve been going over the stats and ratings are up — way up. Wise decision, indeed.”

  “Indeed!” Gwendolyn laughs, touching his shoulder again.

  “Seems to be a hit with the older generation.”

  Gwendolyn nods. “Yes, our polls confirm this.”

  “I’ve seen the results of those polls, Gwendolyn. Quite remarkable.” He shakes his head. “It seems that the public thinks that Marty Smart is trustworthy, funny, and handsome. Old ladies especially love him. They think he’s cute.”

  “Hmmm … yes,” Gwendolyn agrees. “It seems they do.”

  “So, Andy tells me that she’s hired a new production assistant.”

  “Yes, Marty Smart’s daughter, in fact.”

  “Really? How wonderful.”

  “Yes, she should be here by now. Would you like to meet her?”

  What! Oh my gosh! I’ve been hiding behind the desk trying to do something with this mass of tangles, except I’ve just been making it worse.

  “Rodrigo, do something!” I whisper loudly. “I can’t let her see me like this, especially in front of that important-looking dude.”

  “That dude owns the station,” Rodrigo whispers back.

  “What!”

  “Hannah Smart! What are you doing behind that desk?” Gwendolyn barks. Her lips are pursed, her arms are crossed, and she is tapping her foot, obviously extremely annoyed. “Hannah, please answer me. And what did you do to your hair?”

  “Um …”

  “Windy out there today, isn’t it?” Owner-dude says to Gwendolyn. “Looks like Hannah got a little wind-blown on her way to work, that’s all.”

  I look up at Gwendolyn who is still frowning fiercely.

  “So, how do you like working at the station, Hannah?” Phillip asks.

  “Oh my gosh, I love it!” I reply as I quickly stand up from my crouching position behind the desk.

  “What is it that you love about it?”

  “Well … hmmm …” I scratch my head. “I guess I just love all the smiles.”

  “The smiles?” Phillip looks over at Gwendolyn whose frown suddenly shifts into an uncomfortable grin.

  “Yeah. I’m pretty lucky,” I say. “I get to do all those little jobs that no one else wants to do or that they just don’t have time to do. I guess I kind of make people’s problems go away and that makes them happy and that … makes them smile.”

  Phillip nods. “I see your point.”

  “Yes, Hannah is quite helpful,” Gwendolyn says, her thin smile quivering as she stares at my hair.

  “Gwen, why don’t you send Hannah over to hair and makeup. Let them work their magic. I bet they’ll have her looking spiffy in no time.”

  “Wonderf
ul idea, Phillip!” Gwendolyn says, batting her eyelashes. “Hannah, please find your way to make up and then report to Andy as soon as you have yourself … put back together.”

  “Of course,” I say with a quick nod as I take off down the hall toward hair and makeup.

  “Hannah, I need you, STAT!” Andy yells as I scurry past her office.

  “I’m on a mission, Andy; can it wait?” I yell from the hall.

  “No, Hannah, it can’t wait. This is panic stations!”

  A quick U-turn in the hallway and I am in Andy’s office. “Okay, what do you need?”

  “Oh my gawd, Hannah! What happened to your hair?”

  “Well, I was late leaving school and I got outside and …”

  “Never mind; it doesn’t matter. I need you to pick up cough drops. Mary-Lou has the NATT.”

  “Oh my gosh! What’s the NATT? It sounds awful!”

  “It’s the worst! It’s the news-anchor-throat-tickle.”

  “News-anchor-throat-tickle?” I giggle.

  “This is serious, Hannah. She can’t go on air like this. A tickle can lead to a cough and a cough can lead to a fit and a coughing fit is NEVER, EVER a good thing on live television. Don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “Okay, so now that we have that settled, can you go and get some cough drops?” She holds out a twenty-dollar bill.

  “Sure.” I smile, snatching it from between Andy’s fingers. “Can I keep the change?”

  “Hannah, I want you back with those drops, like, five minutes ago!”

  “Back in a flash!” I say and, as fast as lightning, run across the street to the drugstore, burst through the door, and proceed to run up and down every aisle, trying to find them. What kind of drugstore doesn’t sell cough drops? They must be here somewhere! Finally, I ask the woman behind the counter.

  “They’re right there.” She points to a shelf directly behind me.

  After a quick scan, I’m about to grab my all-time favourite, Honey-Lemon Halls, when it suddenly occurs to me that Mary-Lou might not like honey, or worse, she could be allergic. Maybe she’d prefer cherry or citrus or green tea or green tea with echinacea. There are so many choices! Herbal, sugar-free, gooey centers, chewy, hard, vitamin-enriched, warming, soothing, triple action! Why didn’t Andy tell me what kind to get? How can I choose? I can’t choose. Suddenly I find myself grabbing every single type of cough drop I can find. I grab bags, rolls, boxes; I have it all.

  The lady at the cash gives me a look. “Bad cold?” she remarks as she rings it up. “That will be $34.68.”

  “Oh, I only have twenty.” I rub my head furiously in frustration. “I can’t do it!” I yell, which makes her take a step backward.

  “You can’t do what?”

  “I can’t choose. Just give me twenty dollars’ worth of … whatever.”

  “What?” She frowns. “You want me to choose your cough drops?”

  “Please!” I beg, looking down at my watch, which decided to stop right after I got into work today.

  “Well, which ones do you want?”

  OMG, this is why I asked her to choose; I don’t know what I want!

  “Just please give me twenty dollars’ worth of ANYTHING, and that will be perfect.”

  “Okay,” she says with a shrug and starts scanning packages.

  “Wait!” I yelp as she scans a value pack of ginger-grapefruit-menthol drops. “Not those. They sound gross.”

  She looks at me annoyed. “You said anything would be perfect.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I glance around looking for a clock. “Just not those.”

  “Fine.” She shakes her head and voids the ginger-grapefruit-menthol drops, which really do sound disgusting.

  Before she scans the next box of cough drops she holds them up. “Are these acceptable?”

  “Yeah, sure … whatever. Just please hurry. Wait!” I screech, noticing the extra-sour cherry-chocolate drops in her hand. “Not those, either!” I squish up my nose, waiting for her response, which I’m pretty sure won’t be friendly.

  “Look, if you want my help, let me get on with it. I do have other people to serve, if you haven’t noticed.” She points to the line of impatient looking customers behind me.

  I laugh uncomfortably. “Sorry, they’re not for me,” I say to the lineup. “You see, one of the news anchors over at Channel Nine has the NATT, and it’s very important that I get her these cough drops right away.”

  “What’s the NATT?” the lady behind me asks, full of concern.

  “It’s the news-anchor-throat-tickle,” I answer.

  “Ahhhhh,” everyone in line says in unison.

  “Well you’d better get moving!” a guy at the end of the line says, looking at his watch. The news has already started.”

  So, with $19.98 worth of cough drops in my bag, I run back across the street to the station. When I arrive on set, I see Ron, Sue, and Mary-Lou sitting behind the news anchors’ desk. The guy from the lineup was right. I’m too late. They’ve already started. How much have I missed? Ron and Sue are chatting away about the price of gas and how it’s going to affect our economy … boring stuff. Mary-Lou looks like she is in pain and isn’t contributing a single thing to the conversation. Suddenly, a tiny squeak comes out of her, followed by a louder one, and another and another. She is trying so hard to hold it in, but her cheeks puff up with every squeak.

  “Well, look at that! It’s time for our first commercial break of the day,” Ron says flashing his pearly-white smile. “Don’t go away; we’ll be right back.”

  The ON AIR sign goes off and Andy rushes over to me.

  “Where have you been?”

  “You didn’t tell me what kind to get! Choosing cough drops is hard!” I say, holding out the bag. Andy reaches in, grabs a roll of Honey-Lemon Halls, unwraps one, and gives it to Mary-Lou.

  “Water, please,” Mary-Lou squeaks as she pops the cough drop in her mouth.

  I grab a bottle off of the table beside me and run it over to her.

  “Oh, thanks, Hannah!” She grabs the bottle, unscrews the top, and takes a big swig. “You’re the best and you even got my favourite cough drops!

  “Oh, that reminds me of a joke!” I reply, taking a swig from my own water bottle.

  “Can you tell it in a minute and twenty-six seconds?” Ron asks.

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Go for it,” Sue says. “Commercial-break jokes are the best. It’s kind of like a little contest for us to see who can stop laughing first.

  “Okay, so a guy is walking by a cemetery, minding his own business, when a coffin suddenly bursts up from the ground and starts chasing him. The guy is so freaked out that he runs, screaming and yelling all the way home, slamming the door just in the nick of time. The coffin, not wanting to give up, starts banging on the door, harder and harder until the door starts splitting into pieces. ‘Help me someone, please!’ the guy screams, thinking that he’s done for. Suddenly, his wife comes tearing down the stairs with a roll of cough drops in her hand.

  “‘Throw these at it,’ she orders.

  “‘Why?’ he hollers.

  “His wife answers, ‘Because cough drops always stop the coffin!’”

  “Oh!” Ron taps his hands on the desk and says, “ba-dum-bump.”

  “I don’t get it.” Sue shakes her head.

  “Sue … the cough drop stopped the coffin. It’s a play on words; you know, coffin and coughing,” Mary-Lou explains.

  “Oh …” Sue chuckles. “That’s bad.”

  Ron lets out a sudden snort, and then another, and then another. The three of them look at each other blankly for a second and then they burst into a fit of laughter. In seconds, Ron is doubled over, eyes watering. Just as he starts to regain control, he looks at Sue, who is bursting at the seams, and cracks up all over again.

  Oh my gosh, this is bad! How are they going to pull it together before the commercial is over?

  “Ten se
conds to air, people!” Andy yells, pressing her palms downward in the air.

  “Nine … eight …”

  Mary-Lou seems to have the most control until she looks over at Ron, who is actually getting worse, snorting uncontrollably with tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “Seven … six … five …” Andy points at Synora from makeup and then points at Ron. Synora runs on set and dabs at Ron’s face. This makes Sue laugh even harder.

  What if they can’t stop? OMG … this is my fault! Who would tell a joke during commercial break on a live TV? I am going to be so fired!

  “Four …” Andy continues her countdown, silently using her fingers, three … two … one.

  Instantly, as if by magic, everyone stops laughing. No one would ever guess that the anchors were in hysterics just two seconds earlier.

  “Sue, so tell us about this new project you are working on,” Ron says.

  “Ron, it’s amazing. We’re so excited to get started.” Sue beams. “It’s all about getting kids off the couch, away from gaming, and out into the fresh air. We want to get kids excited about sports and getting fit. We want them to get crazy and try new things. We are calling it The Getting-Fit-n-Crazy Challenge.”

  Ron nods. “Hmmm … interesting name.”

  “Thanks, Ron!

  “So, Mary-Lou,” Ron says, flashing his huge anchorman-grin at the camera, “can you fill us in on all the details?”

  All eyes go to Mary-Lou, who has a look of panic on her face.

  “Mary-Lou,” Sue says, trying to maintain her own perfect on-air smile, “Are you okay?”

  Mary-Lou starts furiously shaking her head, jabbing her finger at her throat. Her face is starting to turn blue, and there is this weird wheezing sound coming out of her.

  “Mary-Lou!” Sue shrieks. “Ron! Do some-­thing!”

  “Medic! We need a medic!” Ron yells. “She’s choking!”

  The cough drop! I made this happen. This is my fault! I have to save her!