Commute - Camp NaNoWriMo April 2015

Chapter Thirty-Two - Mwahaha!

Mr Clifford sits back in his seat and rubs his hands together - why is everything people do these days reminding me of evil geniuses? - in glee. "That, Miss McKenna, is fantastic. Just brilliant. And the fact that you got your interviewees to help you shows a lot of courage."

I must tell you, it took a lot of deep breaths and 'locked in the loo calming down sessions' for me to pluck up the courage to tell him that. But luckily it paid off, as he thought that it was a great idea.

"When will the issue go into print?" I ask eagerly.

"It should be ready next week. Miss Finley's will go the week after that - though I don't know if she's finished yet. I must have a word with her about that."

Now I'm the one feeling gleeful. Ha! I have bested Charlotte Finley after all!

"Glad to hear it, sir," I say, maintaining a calm expression.

"Yes, it is quite exciting when your first project is published, isn't it, Miss McKenna?"

I nod furiously. From now on, I'm not letting Mr Clifford or Miranda French down any more.

"Are you all right, Miss McKenna?"

Ah. A bit too much furious nodding, then.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I'm fine."

"Right," he says, peering at me with a faintly puzzled expression on his face. Trust me, if I was the one looking at me right now, I would be looking at myself with a faintly puzzled expression on my face.

That was confusing.

"Well then, I must be off," he says, standing up. "Why don't you take a break, Miss McKenna? Go grab a coffee or something as a reward for all your hard work. You've certainly earned it."

Well. Isn't that just dandy?

(Great. Now I sound like an old woman. I can go from being ten years old to eighty in a matter of seconds. I could totally be on Britain's Got Talent or something in a few years. Or, you know. Not.)