Page 9 of The Change Up
Who doesn’t want to read about a morally gray brother’s best friend falling for the daughter of one of the most feared men in the Mafia who is supposed to be marrying someone else? I’m all about a Mafia baddie.
And to make matters worse, I’m not even supposed to be on campus today. Thursdays are one of my days off from classes. The only reason why I’m stepping foot on campus is because our professor set up a mandatory meeting to discuss our beat assignments for the campus newspaper, The Eagles Gazette. Theemail I was waiting for the other night came, but inside was not what I was expecting. Instead of our assignments, we were all notified to meet in person for a formal discussion involving the new assignments. The beat assignments are assigned to every member of the staff to inform us which genre of events we will be covering, such as arts, sports, politics, lifestyle, and so on.
The Eagles Gazette is a club organization on campus where a few members of the staff are offered paid positions while others are hired on an intern-like basis. Each semester beats get reassigned to some degree. Our professors and editors want everyone to get experience writing about different topics to help make us well-rounded journalists. While I think the idea is great, I want to write about the things I’m passionate about.
Students’ views on current political topics? Hard pass.
The latest local food establishment whipping up new sandwich creations that are geared toward the late-night munchies? Gimme!
This semester my eyes are on the feature beat, though. I’ve worked hard the last two years to really home in on my skills and perfect my writing. I feel like I’ve finally earned the chance to be the lead, even though the feature isn’t generally something in my wheelhouse. I know I’ve got the skills to write an epic article.
However, the rumor around the newsroom is that the feature is going to be all about the new festival coming to Central Texas University this spring. It’s a two-day food, drink, and music event. That is exactly what I’ve been put on this earth to cover.
Walking through the quad is a breeze today, taking me no time. Typically the cobblestone sidewalks are jammed packed with students making their way to the different brick buildings that line the campus. Everyone must’ve been smart and decided to skip today to not have to deal with this unusually cold Thursday in mid-January.
Why couldn’t my professor just cancel and email us our assignments?
Climbing up the few steps to the front entrance of the Union—the building that is home to the basement newsroom—I feel my phone buzz in my purse. The incessant vibrating alerts me that it’s an incoming call and not a text.
Who calls anymore?
Stepping aside, I move to the outside corner of the building to get out of the wind as I thumb off my gloves. Grabbing the ringing phone, “Dad” flashes across the screen.
“Two calls in less than forty-eight hours. Does my dad miss me?”
“I always miss my Amore Mia,” he answers. I can hear the smile he no doubt has spread across his face. “But that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Dad, that’s not ominous at all.” A forced chuckle leaves my lips as worry slides down my spine. “Is everything okay?”
“Well,” he starts as I notice the noise of the restaurant disappears which means he’s just closed himself inside his office for privacy, the action not easing any of the creeping anxiety.
“Dad…” I prompt.
“Sorry, Chloe. It’s chaotic today. A shipment is delayed, and everyone is in a panic. But that’s not why I’m calling. Have you checked the weather?”
The weather? Of course I don’t check the weather. I live in Texas. What could I possibly be worried about?
“No. I don’t even think I have the weather app on my phone. I had to delete a few apps when my storage was running low.”
Dad grumbles something indecipherable in Italian.
“First thing, download the app. It’s irresponsible not to have an application notifying you of weather alerts.”
I roll my eyes as his lecture continues about responsibility and being an adult. My eyes drift back to the quad as I watch a handful of students jog into nearby buildings.
“…ice storm,” he says, and my attention clues back into the conversation.
“Wait, what did you just say?”
He sighs. “You tuned out everything I just said, didn’t you?”
“Sure did. My brain is freezing. I’m standing outside waiting to go into class.”
“Dammit, why didn’t you say something? There’s an ice storm coming this weekend. You need to prepare,” he repeats, grumbling something else I can’t make out. He really needs to work on his whole grumbling under his breath. “I’ll text you a list of items you should have. If you can’t get something, let me know. Get inside.” He pauses. “Oh, stay safe, and I love you, Chloe.”
I smile. How he can go from rough and gruff to overprotective in a single conversation just amazes me. “I love you too, Dad.”
Tossing my phone into my purse, I reach for the handle and swing the door open. The blast of hot air hits me, and I sigh at the warmth, even though it almost takes my breath away.
