Chapter 2

I headed back to the Marketing Department.

Claire was packing up, getting ready to leave.

I said, "Ms. Gomez, the Tech Department guy said I can't use that computer."

"Then figure something else out." She slung her bag over her shoulder as she walked past me. "I only care about the results."

"But—"

"Meilani." She stopped and turned to look at me. "Already trying to negotiate on your first day?"

"I'm not."

"Eighty-three pages. Get it to my email by eight tomorrow morning, or you can kiss your performance review goodbye this month."

Then she left.

Everyone else in the office started leaving one by one.

Eventually, I was the only one left.

Eighty-three pages. No computer.

I stood in the empty office, staring at the stack of handwritten papers for a long time.

Then I pulled out my phone and slowly started typing in my notes app.

By 2:40 AM, I finally finished the last page.

My fingers were stiff, and my eyes were so dry that I could hardly keep them open.

I exported the notes, but the formatting was a mess, so I spent another hour cleaning it up.

At 3:52 AM, the email finally went through.

I crashed at my desk and slept for three hours.

At seven in the morning, the cleaning lady's mop clattered by my feet.

I woke up. I rubbed my eyes and glanced at my phone.

Claire had replied to my email. [Redo it.]

*****

"Format's off. Redo it," Claire ordered. "Wrong font. Start over." "Line spacing's messed up. Do it again."

By the third day, I'd already reworked that proposal eleven times.

For the final version, she deleted it without glancing at it. "You're done. I don't need you anymore. George will take over."

George was another person under her wing, and he'd started six months before me.

When he took the USB drive from Claire, he shot me a look.

There was sympathy in his eyes, but also a clear sense of relief. He might be thankful that he wasn't the one getting put through the wringer this time.

"Meilani, you're heading to the archives today to sort out the files." Claire pointed down the hall. "Start with 2018, organize them by year and type. I'll check when you're done."

The archives were in the basement. There were no windows, only a single fluorescent light.

The dust was so thick that it was hard to breathe.

When I opened the door, I saw file boxes piled up everywhere, like a mountain range stretching across the room.

I counted them. There were forty-seven boxes.

I crouched down and started going through each file, one after another.

Some of the dates were so faded that I had to hold the files up close to read them.

At noon, I still hadn't eaten, but I had to keep working through the pile.

At three in the afternoon, Claire walked in. "Still not done?"

"Twelve boxes left," I replied.

She frowned. "Why's it taking you so long?"

I didn't say anything.

Explaining wouldn't do any good.

She paced around the stack of files I'd finished, then suddenly bent down and jerked out the pile at the very bottom.

With a loud crash, the files on top tumbled everywhere.

"Who told you to stack them like this?" Claire snapped, her voice sharp. "Do you know how to organize by year? How can you put 2019 files underneath 2018? Are you clueless?"

I stared at the files scattered all over the floor.

The 2019 files were on top, 2018 underneath. I stacked them correctly.

"Did you hear me?" she said.

I crouched down and started picking them up again. "Yeah, I heard you."

She walked out.

Before leaving, she tossed out a warning: "If you don't finish today, don't bother coming to work tomorrow."

I stayed in the archives until eleven at night.

By the time I finished the last file, my back was so stiff that I could barely stand up straight.

My hands were covered in dust, and my fingernails were caked with grime.

After leaving the archives, I didn't go back to my desk.

I headed straight for the restroom.

When I looked in the mirror, my eyes were red and puffy, and my hair was a total mess.

I leaned against the sink, taking a deep breath.