Haven't Had Enough → Chenry

? Chapter Twelve

     So when I walked through the door, head down, I didn't see the person standing there before me. I would have bumped right into them if they didn't reach out and stop me.

     "Oh!" I blurted, looking up to see who it was. My sights met with a sleek brown updo and wire-rimmed glasses. It was the lady from the front desk. "Ingrid, I didn't see you there."

Ingrid shrugged her shoulders and pushed her glasses further up on the bridge of her nose. "I understand, Miss Bolton. Most people don't."

     I blinked a few times, unsure of what to say. Ingrid was nice enough, but she could also be pretty awkward at times. "Sorry to hear that, Ingrid. If you don't mind, though, I'll just be going."

     I started to step around her to head into the main room when I felt a hand on my wrist. I stopped and looked back over my shoulder.

     "Ingrid," I began, "is there something you want to say to me? Because I have to admit, right now, I'm a little freaked out."

     "I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable. It's just..." Ingrid paused for a moment and looked down at the floor. "I've noticed that you're somehow very fearless around Becca. I wanted to ask how you do that."

     I glanced over at the main room, where I could see Becca tapping away at her computer, before returning my gaze to Ingrid. "Becca? Why, does she bother you?"

     "Yes," Ingrid asserted, before shaking her head. "I mean, no. I don't know, I suppose she does. The entire thing is kind of childish."

   I felt my heart go out to her. I couldn't imagine that it was easy to be the odd one out in a business like ours – working the front desk while everyone else was tucked away somewhere else, working together. "I'll bet it isn't," I said gently. "What is it?"

     Ingrid looked at me tentatively before letting out a small sigh. "If I'm completely honest with you, I've always wanted to be an author myself. That was why I accepted this job as the receptionist here. I wanted to get an in. Becca knows it, and she hates me for it."

     I rolled my eyes and nodded. "Welcome to the club."

     "Well, anyway," Ingrid continued, "I've always wanted to enter the Penbrooke competition more than anything, but I'm too scared of Becca to do it. She'd kill me if I did. She enters every year."

     I raised my eyebrows at this newfound information. I could feel gears turning in my head. "Really? Every year and she's never won?"

     "Correct. But then you showed up here, and you're not scared of her like I am." She stopped and took the opportunity to look me over. "You're not scared of her at all. I don't want to be either."

     "Well, Ingrid," I replied, "I'll let you in on a little secret. I am just a little bit scared of Becca, because, let's face it, she seems like a bit of a psycho. But even though I'm a little scared, I go for what I want, because I know that going for it will always be worth it. Make sense?"

     Ingrid studied me for a second before smiling. "Yes, actually. That makes perfect sense."

     I smiled back, but my attentions dwelled on the words I had just spoken. Some part of me was painfully aware that I was in desperate need of taking my own advice.