Page 3 of Sincerely, Secretary of Doom

And the four other people in the room.

Violet shrank an inch, but she kept her chin up.

“Violet?” Her boss Cedric stood from his chair. “Would you mind explaining this extremely unprofessional interruption?” The way he emphasised the last few words made it clear she was ruining her chances by barging in like this.

Violet cleared her throat.

“Don’t cut me,” she said, stealing a glance at the clock. She’d made it with less than a minute before The Sprinkled Scoop owners’ meeting was supposed to end.

Five sets of uninterested eyes blinked at her. Violet brushed the crumbs from her blouse and stood a little straighter, sure this was the first time any of the owners, or Cedric, had seen her in such a sloppy state. Typically, she was meticulous about her hair and makeup. It was one of the few things people paid attention to her for at The Sprinkled Scoop. “I’ve submitted all my articles on time since day one,” she said to all those in the room. “I’ve gone to every site in the city related to thememory-loss case, and I’m always at work on time. I’m also always the last one to leave. I know my writing style is unique, but—”

“Unique?” Cedric grunted out an almost-laugh. “Your writing style is weird.Whimsicalat best.” He folded his arms and puffed his chest. “We hired you because your life story was interesting, and we thought your presence here would bring in new readers. But this is one of the most sought out news outlets in the city and we have to be picky. People read our articles for the facts, not for the pretty spin we put on things.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “We’ve gotten complaints, Violet. Like, actualrealcomplaints!”

Violet rubbed her temple. “I can sharpen up my writing. My expressive descriptions are just a habit. It doesn’t mean I’m not a great journalist—”

“You’re not a great journalist.” Cedric said it flat out.

One of the owners turned his head away, but not before Violet saw his smirk.

“I’ve trusted you with plenty of stories and they always turn out the same. Your facts are great, but reading your articles is like reading a bad fiction novel. I’m sorry to tell you this, Violet, but you’re not going to make the cut. We just finished making our decisions, and we’re announcing to the whole office who we’re offering full time positions to in a few minutes. You can wait outside with the other interns.”

Violet’s mouth itched to protest. But…

“You’re not a great journalist.”

No one had ever said it so bluntly before.

The hallway seemed bland on the walk out. Violet hardly noticed the printed articles in frames along the walls—all showcasing work by other interns. She saw a blurry vision of the dull grey carpet as she made her way back to join her fellowpermanent-position-hopefulsat a vastly different speed than when she’d come in.

Fil was still going on about The Fairy Post, loudly rejecting the paper’s authenticity, announcing to all within earshot that it wasn’t reliable news and that most of what was written didn’t make any sense.

“You’re jealous,” Violet said.

When seven heads turned in her direction, she realized she’d said it out loud.

But why should she care? She wasn’t going to be working here after today. None of these people had gotten to know her during the year they’d spent together. Most of them only wanted to be her friend because of her fame, and Violet was sure it was because they thought she might bring them a moment in the spotlight. Since day one, Violet had been asked almost a dozen times by her fellow interns if they could interview her for a story of their own. Fil especially; she’d mistakenly thought he was on her side in the beginning until it became evident that the boss didn’t like Violet’s writing style. Then Fil had avoided her and once even made her feel stupid for trying to sit beside him in the lunchroom.

Violet looked at Fil with new eyes now. No longer would she be subject to his egotism. No longer would he ask her in front of everyone to clean up after him and refill the coffee filters. Fil thought he was a god, but he was just Cedric’s nephew and therefore got special “family ally” privileges. He wasn’t even good at keeping facts straight.

Violet marched over and grabbed The Fairy Post from the god himself. She scanned the front page where artistic, flowery pictures were nestled into the margins like fairies were peeking out from behind the words. It was weird but also kind of adorable.

“You’re jealous, Fil,” she said again, lowering the paper and looking directly into his face this time. “This paper has been gathering a big readership in the past few months. Young people like the vintage feel of a real paper in their fingers. And unlike you and your boring unchecked facts, some people like to believe in magic.”

Fil’s cheeks reddened. “Jealous? Vintage?” He looked off and sniffed, bringing his hands to his hips. “There are still lots of real newspapers in print, Violet, even in Toronto. There’s nothingvintageabout this.” He moved to take the paper back, but Violet jerked it away and held it out of his reach. Fil glared. “Of course, someone likeyouwould be interested in frilly, unprofessional articles about nonsense. Keep the paper. Maybe it can entertain you on your bus ride home once you’re let go from this place.”

Violet opened her mouth to object but realized she couldn’t. Shewasbeing let go. Even if the interns didn’t know that for sure yet, she did—and apparently, so did Fil.

She swallowed whatever words she might have said, her throat feeling thicker than a second ago.

Violet remembered getting the acceptance letter to The Sprinkled Scoop. She’d cried tears of joy that day, and her Aunt Zorah had baked a gooey cherry pie to celebrate. Being a journalist was all she knew how to do. It was her only dream. Her one goal. There was no other.

It was only a matter of time before everyone heard she’d been kicked out. After she was gone, Cedric and Fil would have a field day harassing the women in the office the same way they’d harassed Violet all year. She stole a sympathetic look at Alice, wondering if the only other female intern would make the cut.

With that in mind, Violet rolled up The Fairy Post and tucked it under her arm. She headed for the door in silence. She didn’t make it outside before she heard Alice whisper to the others, “Was that icing on her blouse?”

Violet untangled her hair tie as she walked, freeing her chestnut locks to fall around her shoulders. She whacked the icing bits off her blouse in rigid motions as she headed for the bus stop. “So embarrassing,” she muttered to herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out in public looking this bad. If the owners’ meeting hadn’t suddenly been moved up, she would have showed up on time, looked a thousand times more presentable, and she would have had a convincing speech prepared.

Shouts of reporters filled the street, and Violet leaned to try and see around the hoard of people extending microphones. Some of them were even wearing jackets withThe Sprinkled Scoopembroidered on the arm, and for a split second, she imagined herself wearing one of those prestigious jackets. Being one of the lead journalists trusted with the expensive microphones, capturing the story.

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