Page 11 of Starrily
He’d said no to too many things before the accident. Somehow, he got a second chance at life—and this time he was taking all of it, even the things that, at first glance, might not appear the most enjoyable.
One could never know what they could turn into.
***
Callie paced in her office, picking at her nails, when Watzmann caught up with her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have—ugh.”
“True, true, perhaps storming off wasn’t the best course of action,” Watzmann said. “Or the ‘actual expert’ stab. But the good news is, I don’t think they’re too offended. He’ll still come here tomorrow.”
She wasn’t sure thatwasthe good news. “And what is that about?”
“Right. I didn’t get the chance to tell you. Again, the good news—there’s a journalist who’ll write an article about you for a science magazine.”
She and Watzmann had to work out the meaning of “good news.”
“Courtesy of Aries making a contract with us,” Watzmann said. “Which is why Mr. Montague will also be present. Now, before you say anything—”
She didn’t even know what to say.
“I guarantee he’ll not interfere with your work. You’ll show him around, explain some things to him and the journalist, have a picture taken—”
It was getting worse and worse.
“—and that’s it. You’ve mentored students before. This will be similar.”
Those students didn’t make her stutter and stumble and say inappropriate things.
“I won’t say I’m the best at judging people.” Watzmann scratched his chin. “But he seemed pleasant enough.”
Of course he did. At the zero-gravity flight, Simon Montague was the life of the party. But her work wasn’t a party, and he didn’t belong here. “Can’t he work with someone else?” she pleaded.
Watzmann shrugged. “They want you. If you think about it, it’s a great opportunity. QueLabs will gain more publicity, and you’ll get exposure. The public needs to see more women in science. Especially women of color! We’ll show them it’s not a men’s world.” Watzmann clenched his fist in a winning gesture.
Callie let out the briefest laugh. Watzmann’s comic enthusiasm helped, and for a bit, she dared to dream. There were good things attached to exposure. Maybe she could be the one to make some little girl say, “I want to be like that science lady.” All of her childhood—well, from that event onward—she’d felt so lonely, trapped in a family that cared more about thepseudothan the science, in a town that was much the same. But it didn’t have to be the same for other kids. Exposure could help. Not only in the scientific community—it could lead to many things. Maybe she could donate to non-profits that teach children science. Even design her own course.
All right, don’t run away with your thoughts.That was still far in a potential future.
She sat down at her desk, and her gaze wandered to the screen of her computer. She smiled at her wallpaper—a cartoony depiction of two nearly merged twin stars hugging each other.
Maybe this was worth it. Showing people how amazing the Universe was, sharing her love with something else than a dense research paper.
“Fine,” she said to Watzmann. “I’ll do it.”
As for Simon Montague … most likely he’d get bored after a day of following her around, and then she’d be free of him and his bizarre effect on her.
***
Simon only felt a slight bit of nervousness the next morning, entering the QueLabs building. He’d agreed to Everett’s plan, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Unfortunately, his brain translated “having to be friendly to Calliope Guidry” into nervousness, like he was some thirteen-year-old boy who just discovered girls weren’t icky.
Thanks, brain.
He greeted the receptionist and picked up his visitor card, then headed upstairs, wishinggood morningsto anyone encountered on the way. He found Calliope’s office at the end of a long hallway, its walls adorned with various space prints—from grainy white blobs amidst the darkness to high-resolution photographs of planet surfaces.
At the door, he paused, collected himself, then knocked and entered. “Good morning, Phoenix.”
