How to Get Dirt (6 page)
Authors: S. E. Campbell
The minutes
ticking
by felt like the longest in her entire life. She hadn
'
t
realized giving
somebody other than Prudence her stories could be so intimidating. She watched David
'
s face, looking for
signs he
either loved it or dislike it. None came. His face remained unchanging. Finally, he closed the notebook and placed it on the table.
“
You wrote that?
”
he asked, his voice quiet.
“
Yes,
”
she said
.
“
D
id it sound okay?
”
“
You areâ¦
quite a young woman.
”
She wasn
'
t sure if
it
was a compliment or not, so she fiddled with her fingers.
David took a sip of coffee, but his eyes remained trained on her notebook. His lips were pursed.
“
Do you know what I do for a living?
”
he asked, turning around to look at her.
Pickles shook her head.
“
I write and edit articles for a magazine,
”
David said.
“
I think it might be okay if I took you to work with me today. Would you like that?
”
A writer, a real writer. Pickles eyes widened. She couldn
'
t believe it. How had she not known? Of course, she had never asked. Excitement filled her stomach.
“
Please.
”
Pickles grinned.
“
But is
it okay
?
”
“
I work for a family magazine,
”
David said,
“
so the head editor should be okay with it. Plus, I
'
m not
sure there
'
s a person alive who wouldn
'
t
want
you hanging around.
”
Then
David poked her in the
belly
.
Pickles
giggled and clutched her stomach.
“
Let me leave Miranda a note, and then we
'
ll be on our way.
”
David stood up and placed his paper on the table.
“
I can
'
t believe I didn
'
t think of this sooner. Having you at work with me is going to be a lot of fun.
”
****
David
'
s office had a lot of people in cubicles
.
His
cubicle was in the middle. He
sat
down
with Pickles next to him
while
she scribbled
in
her notebook.
A copy of
Family Issues Magazine
â David
'
s magazine â sat on the chair next to her
.
Using it as a reference, she tried to imitate his writing style.
He was
a good
writer. She
couldn
'
t
believe she
hadn
'
t known what he did for a living. He was practically a celebrity.
After she had been sitting by David for some time, a bald man with a long beard
peered
over the cubicle and did a double-take when he saw Pickles sitting at the desk.
“
David, who is this?
”
the man asked, rounding the cubicle.
“
This would be Pickles,
”
David said, patting her head.
Pickles
stared
up at the balding man and found herself smiling. The man
wore
a bright red tie with smiley faces on it.
“
So this is the gorgeous
Pickles I
have been hearing so much about,
”
the man said, picking up her hand and then kissing it. Heat filled her face.
“
She
'
s as lovely as you said. My name is Jerry Newton
.
I
'
m the editor
in
chief and owner of this magazine.
”
Pickles
glanced
from David to
Mr. Newton
.
“
He
'
s my boss,
”
David said, winking at Pickles,
“
though most of the time, he doesn
'
t act like it.
”
Did David normally talk this way to his
manager
? Pickles wouldn
'
t have spoken that way to her old foster parents
. In
a way, they had been her boss. She
peered
nervously at Jerry and wondered whether David was about to be in trouble.
“
So what brings you here, Pickles?
”
Jerry asked, grinning at her. Pickles blinked. Had he not heard what
David
said at all?
“
Um, I like to write, so David said he
'
d
bring
me here,
”
Pickles
replied
.
“
He was showing me articles, too, sir.
”
“
Sir?
”
Jerry raised an eyebrow.
“
Nobody calls me sir.
”
A moment of silence went by. Jerry struck her as nice, but he was also the editor
in
chief. She didn
'
t know what else to say.
A little frightened, s
he stole a look at David.
“
Say, David,
”
Jerry said, when Pickles didn
'
t say anything,
“
don
'
t we have
an area
in the magazine for articles written by young people?
”
David grinned.
“
Well, I say we do, Jerry.
”
“
Isn
'
t there an opening this issue?
”
Her heart pounded.
Did Jerry mean what she thought he did?
Jerry turned to look at Pickles.
“
How about it, Pickles, my dear?
”
He grinned at
her
.
“
Would you like to write an article for
Family Issues
? You would get your name in the magazine and everything.
”
Excitement filled her. That would make her a real journalist, just like David. She grinned.
“
I would love to, Mr. Newton.
”
Excitement made her squirm in her seat.
“
Mr. Newtonâ¦
”
Jerry chuckled
,
then winked at David.
“
Where did you find this polite young lady? Mr. Newton is my father, Pickles. You can call me Jerry.
”
With a grin, Pickles stuck out her hand to shake his. She was starting to feel like a real live business woman, and at the age of
twelve
too.
“
Jerry, it
'
s a deal,
”
she said, as Jerry picked up her hand and shook it.
David chuckled.
Â
Â
Pickles had to wear a plaid skirt and a white button-up shirt. She wasn
'
t
sure she
liked it. She had never gone to a private school before, but she was going to have to now
. I wonder if the other kids will like me. From what I
'
ve heard of private schools, everybody is pretty rich.
She frowned at the mirror and smoothed down her hair.
Pickles wanted to show
her foster parents
, who were in their bedroom, her uniform
, but when she opened
her
door, she heard them discussing something. She wasn
'
t
sure she
wanted to interrupt.
“
David, it
'
s late,
”
Miranda said.
“
Are you sure?
”
David asked.
“
You know what it was like before. Real sporadic. What if this isn
'
tâ¦
”
“
But I
'
ve been feeling sick all the time,
”
Miranda said
.
“
Plus, now
I
'
m three weeks off.
”
“
Let
'
s not jump any guns here, sweetheart,
”
David said.
“
Remember what happened last time when you ended up so disappointed?
”
“
I know. I
'
m just excited. It
'
s what we
'
ve wanted for so long.
”
Nobody spoke
again
but Pickles heard movement. She pressed herself harder against the door, her heart pounding. She wasn
'
t sure what was going on, but judging by the way her stomach sunk, she
knew it
wasn
'
t good. After years of seeing bad things hap
pen
one after the other, she knew all about that.
“
I
'
m sorry,
”
Miranda said.
“
Don
'
t be sorry.
”
The
n the
sound of rustling fabric
was all Pickles could
hear.
Pickles took a step forward and rammed her foot into the dresser. She let out a loud cry of pain
before falling
over. Miranda gasp
ed
while
David yelp
ed
. A moment later, they were both hovering over her,
their
eyes wide with concern.
Oh, no. I ruined it. Now I
'
m not going to know what
'
s going on or what
'
s late.
She ground her teeth.
“
Are you okay, Pickles?
”
David asked, patting her head.
“
Yeah,
”
Pickles said,
“
I
'
m alright.
”
“
Thank heavens,
”
Miranda said.
“
What happened?
”
Heat filled her face. She didn
'
t want to tell
them she
had been listening in on their conversation and had stepped forward to eavesdrop. She
knew parents
didn
'
t like it when she did that.
“
I just was about to tell
you I
finished trying on my outfit,
but then
I ran into the dresser,
”
Pickles lied.
“
I hur
t my foot and then fell over.
”
“
You
'
re
sure your foot is okay?
”
Miranda asked,
kneeling and
touching her leg gently.
“
Is it broken?
”