Page 12 of Reptile Dysfunction
“I did it!” I announce proudly. “I finally wrote the piece that’s going to blow the lid off Mayor Wendall’s dodgy dealings.”
Eddie looks at me puzzled, but I’m on a roll.
“Check your email,” I say, pointing at his computer and grinning.
I’m eager to hear what he thinks of the piece, and before he can protest, I take a seat, hoping he’ll get the idea and read it right in front of me. I anticipate lavish praise, maybe even a promotion, but as Eddie looks at the email, he frowns.
“‘Property development scandal?’” he asks, skeptical. “You sure about this?”
“I’m sure,” I say confidently. “When you read it, you’ll see.”
He gives me another look but turns back to his screen. I can see his eyes scanning the draft, but as he reads further and further, his frown grows deeper and deeper.
Finally, he looks back up at me.
“Charlotte,” he says with a heavy sigh. “You’re a great writer and a talented journalist, but these claims are entirely unsubstantiated. Where are your references? Where’s your proof? You don’t have a single witness other than yourself as far as I can see, and even then, you didn’t hear anything conclusive. We have a reputation to uphold.”
“I swear, it’s all true,” I tell him. “It has to be.”
He gives me another look, but this time it’s laced with compassion. “I’ll look into it,” he tells me. “But without any real evidence, we can’t publish this.”
I nod. “You’ll find evidence. I’m sure of it.”
When I walk into work the next day, though, Eddie calls me into his office.
“Charlotte,” he tells me sadly. “I followed up on your piece, and there’s nothing. I’m not sure if I’m relieved that Mayor Wendall is innocent, or disappointed that your first piece went nowhere.”
I can barely speak, but when I do, the words coming out are edged with defiance.
“Eddie,” I tell him. “Open your eyes, he’s got you duped!”
But he just shakes his head. Without replying, he walks over to open his office door and calls out to someone across the room. When I see who it is, I want to tear my hair out.
“Charlotte, you’re going to be working with Fred again today,” Eddie says once the zombie has joined us. “He’s got a pretty interesting story lined up, and I think it might be good for you to work together some more. See what other stories are worth covering here in Curiosity.”
Eddie gives me an encouraging smile, as does Fred, but all I want to do is scowl at them.
I realize I don’t have much of a choice but to go along with it, at the risk of losing yet another job. It doesn’t get much more bottom-of-the-barrel than this.
“Yay!” yells Fred when he hears the plan. “The dream team together again!”
I wonder what team he’s talking about because there’s no way it’s the two of us, but I’m too annoyed to argue.
“Alright, let’s go,” I say, walking out of the office without another glance at Eddie. I figure getting out in the field will be better than moping around the office, anyway.
It turns out, though, I’m entirely wrong about that.
“And this is a worsted yarn from Lion,” says the old woman, sitting amongst pile after pile of yarn. “It’s one hundred percent acrylic. I got it in Denver at a yarn convention in 1972. It’s still in its original packaging.”
The woman grins proudly before moving on to the next skein.
“Now this one’s very special indeed,” she tells us. “It’s also worsted, but it’s made from one hundred percent merino wool. The brand is Malabrigo and the wool is from Uruguay! Imagine that!”
“The mind boggles,” I reply with an eye roll, but neither the woman nor Fred picks up on my sarcasm.
“And what do you make with all this yarn?” Fred asks, holding pen to paper as if determined not to miss a single detail of this thrilling story.
“Oh, I don’t knit,” says the woman. “Or crochet. I’m just a collector.”