The Quirk Of Fate

March 11, 2009
By Molly Klein BRONZE, New City, New York
Molly Klein BRONZE, New City, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

It was a typical Friday afternoon after school, just me and Ella. We went to the movies, got a slice of pizza, and went to the candy shop. Ella is as great as a best friend can get. She's an affectionate, smart, tree hugging, and all-around appealing 15 year old girl. However, not many people want to get to know the girl behind the black framed glasses. So, this year we decided to kick up the 'cool' a notch. After all, it's high school. Who wants to be known as a second banana in high school? When I mentioned it to Ella, she decided that she liked it when it was just me and her, and doesn't think that I should change myself for the sake of others. 'Popularity', I said. 'That is one thing that we haven't had since our awesome light-up sneakers from second grade.' Ella disagrees and says, 'Ray, don't get your hopes up', then suggests an after school activity to prevent littering.

It's 5:00 pm on a Friday before winter vacation. I'm still at work, deciding on which color should be the backsplash for the cover of the spring edition of the magazine called 'Trendy'. My cubicle is cluttered, and my boss is giving me a lecture. 'You've been working here 6 years. If you think sucking up to me by working overtime is going to get you a raise, think again, Charlene.' I started working here last year. My name is Veronica. After I politely corrected Mr. Samson by flashing him my nametag, and stating that he must be mistaking me for someone else, he replies by telling me that I was in hot water with him, and he'll be watching me. Deciding that I've had enough for one day, I take the elevator down from the eleventh floor of a New York City office building, one where most of the people working there appear clever and youthful. I notice one missed call from an unrecognizable number.

Today is the day that Ella and I have an appointment with the magazine editor of 'Trendy' magazine. Ella thinks it's a meeting to try and incorporate recycling in their magazine. I'm almost positive that this chick can convince Ella that all we need is confidence, a little push, and some rocking clothes to up our social status. On our way to a fancy office building in New York City, we can't help but stop in a candy store. I get my favorite, pineapple flavored lifesaver. Ella doesn't get anything. She claims to not believe in wrapped candy because everyone always throws their wrappers on the ground and that is bad for the environment. So, to be sarcastic as usual and prove a point, as we started walking again, I threw my candy wrapper on the icy ground quite obviously, stomped on it, and made sure Ella was looking.

I'm on break, but am still going to work. Why? Some tweens need fashion advice and they think that I am their solution. Now, I really don't know much about fashion. However, I am the editor of a high fashion magazine and if I make up some mumbo jumbo, they will buy it. I walk into the office, coming face to face with my boss. 'Hello, Charlene', he says. I reluctantly reply politely, and then roll my eyes when he's not looking. 'Go fall and die', I mumble under my breath. I walk into the conference room as I watch my boss leave the office. After all, it is a vacation and not even the boss wants to be here. Two girls stand up. 'Hi I'm Tracy. This is Ella', one girl said. The other girl, Ella, looked like the nerdier one of the two. We sit down and start talking. About a half hour into our 'consultation' I get a phone call. This one was from my boss's cell phone. I answer.

'Hi. Veronica Thatcher?'

It was a woman's voice.

'Yes. Who's speaking?'

'This is Maria from the New York City Emergency Response Committee. We found your phone number in Mr. Sampson's most recent calls list and thought that you may know if he has a medical history of heart attacks, or fainting.'

'I'm sorry, I'm just his new intern, and I don't think I can help you. Why? Is he alright?'

'Well, I actually can't answer that right now until we get him to the emergency room. He has fallen on what appears to be a candy wrapper in front of the candy shop on the corner of East 34th and Columbus. Let me tell you, the ice didn't help aid his fall either.'

'Oh my. Please let me know how he does.'

'Will do, Ms. Thatcher. Have a safe night.'

I hang up the phone. 'Is everything alright?' Tracy asks me. I reply by telling her that everything is all right and that my boss fell on a candy wrapper and is being rushed to the hospital, not wanting to panic them. Then I think, didn't I tell Mr. Samspon to fall and die earlier?

During our meeting, Veronica gets a phone call about her boss being rushed to the hospital because he slipped on a candy wrapper. My candy wrapper. That candy wrapper not only didn't prove my point, it also made Ella very upset and frustrated, and brought an innocent woman's innocent boss face to face with death. All because of me. Me and my stupid sarcasm.

Mr. Sampson fell. I told him to fall. Not only did that not prove my point, but it made me feel like a jerk. I am a jerk. Mr. Samson is facing death all because of me. Me and my big mouth.

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