Behind The Scenes

[Chapter Nineteen]

Chapter 19

My steps faltered and my heart stopped as my eyes stayed glued to my phone screen. More specifically, the single message that had just appeared in my inbox, sitting unread as my mind began to jumble with nerves.

This was it.

Holding my breath, I tapped the screen and opened the e-mail.

Zoe Hamilton,

During our interview with you earlier this week, I was pleased to see that you were well prepared and enthusiastic about working for our journal. My team and I have reviewed the sample articles that you left, and I must say, for such a young mind, you do have a way of making history come alive. I especially enjoyed reading your take on life after war, the piece you centered on war veterans.

It is because of this, and more, that I am happy to extend an offer to work with us here at The Historical Press during your upcoming placement. We will also be considering you for a full-time position upon your graduation if the next few months run smoothly.

Please contact me with your decision as soon as possible so we can work out a few minor details. I can be reached by this e-mail address or by the phone number listed below during our regular work hours.

Sincerely,

Caroline Harley

Head Editor, The Historical Press

I skimmed over the e-mail once more, making sure that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. As it slowly started to sink in that I'd landed the job, a smile bloomed on my face. Barely able to contain the thrill of excitement that spread through me, I took a screenshot of the e-mail and sent it out to Emily and Ryan.

Seeing the time at the top of my screen, I realized that, by reading my e-mail, I'd accidentally made myself late for my last class of the day. Pocketing my phone, I sped up my pace until the building I was heading towards come into view.

The classroom for my Social History course was small, as less than 50 people were registered for the class. I was very much aware that several of my classmate's eyes were veering away from the professor as I opened the door at the back of the class, slipping in five minutes late. Ducking my head, I avoided the amused look my professor was giving me as I quickly spotted a free seat near the back of the classroom. Walking down the row, I avoided the backpacks that had been carelessly left in the aisle, pulling out the empty chair before beginning to tune in to the lecture.

An hour later, I had three pages full of notes focusing on immigration into America in the early 19th century. Tuning out the professor for a moment, I uncapped a highlighter and went over the important dates that I figured I would have to memorize.

"Zoe Hamilton?"

Startled, my hand jolted across the page, causing a frown to develop on my features as I noticed the bright yellow line that trailed halfway across my page.

When I realized that I'd once again heard my name, my head popped up curiously, letting my gaze travel around the room before it landed on a woman standing by the door. She looked to be in her mid-30s, but I couldn't remember a time when I'd ever met her.

"Yes?" I spoke up hesitantly, suddenly conscious of my classmates looking back at me.

It was after I replied that I realized the reason she was there. More so, what she was holding in her hands. It was a beautiful bouquet comprised of red and pink roses, and the sight of it made my heart catch in my throat.