On a Slippery Slope (8 page)

“Okay …” Andy says, looking over as I shove a slice of equally delicious pizza into my mouth.

“Yummy,” I say, smirking.

“
Um
… where did the pizza…?”

“You have quite a valuable assistant here, Andy! She even thought to bring me this lovely cucumber water!”

“Cucumber what?”

“
Um
…” I break in, “I saw it on
The Doctors
; it's supposed to be calming and rejuvenating.” I wink at Andy.

“Mmmm … totally,” the senator agrees. “This young lady really knows how to think on her feet. Make sure you don'
t lose her.
”

“Good advice,” Andy says, nodding slowly.

A
fter supper, back at home, Dad calls me into his office.

“So, I hear you were quite the little superstar at the station today.”

“Superstar?”

“That's what Andy called you. She said you saved her butt today.”

“I just got one of the guests something to eat,” I say, shrugging. “No big deal.”

“Oh, but it was a big deal, Hannah. You impressed some very important people, including the senator.”

“Well, that's cool, I guess.” I smile.

“It's more than cool, Han! Andy is swamped at the station, totally in
way
over her head. Anyway, she wanted to know if you would be interested in working at the station after school as kind of a gofer.”

“A gofer?”

“Yeah. You'd help her out — kind of like what you did today. You'd be her second set of hands.”

“Thanks, Dad, but I have this babysitting thing that I'm trying to get off the ground.”

“Hannah, I've asked around and it looks like Frank's daughter, Chloe, has all the babysitting locked down in the office. Besides, what Andy is offering you is guaranteed money, Monday to Friday.”

“They want to pay me? Like for real?”

“Of course they'll pay you! It's not a lot, but it will add up fast. I promise.”

“Wow! This is exciting!”

“Sure is! Now go get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.”

There Are Only Twenty-Four Hours in a Day

“S
o
, I hear you're trying to scam jobs at the radio station,” Ivy whispers as she walks past my desk.

“News travels fast,” I mutter, looking in the other direction.

“You're wasting your time, you know. You're not going to make a cent.”

“I'm not sure why you care, Ivy, but I'm pretty sure I will. I start working for Andy today.”

“You are mistaken, my friend.” She looks around, making sure she has an audience, and laughs. “
Andy
doesn't have children!”

A few kids snicker, which fires her up even more. “If you're gonna lie, Hannah, at least do your research!”

“I know Andy doesn'
t have kids,
” I answer.

“Well, then
why
would she hire you?” Ivy demands, as a
far-too
-confident set of
duck-lips
pop up on her face.

“I can answer that,” Chloe says, magically appearing, like she always does, whenever there's a chance to dish out some of her usual nastiness. “I just had lunch with my dad and it seems that our little Hannah has somehow convinced the associate director that she has a brain.”

“What? They hired her, like, for a real job?” Ivy asks, dumbfounded.

“Yes, a real job.” Chloe grins smugly. “Anyone want to take bets on how long she'll last before she's fired?” She turns and taps me on the nose. “Oh, and I guess you won't have time to work on our fundraising campaign now, will you? You know, with your busy schedule and all.”

“Fundraising campaign?”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “For our ski trip, dummy! But don't worry. A. J. and I will handle
everything
. I'll let you know if we need you to take minutes or something, okay?”

“Oh … I can do fundraising!” I say, looking at her straight on. “I'm
all about
fundraising!”

“Really? You do realize that people aren't just going to throw money at you, right? Fundraising takes hours and hours of work, and lots of creativity. Do you
have
hours and hours, Hannah? Do you even have a
single
creative idea?” Chloe glances around at the group of kids, now surrounding us, and taps my head with her finger.

First my nose, now my head! That girl has got some nerve!

“I've got tons of ideas!” I cry out, pushing her hand away, at the same time wishing I could stuff the words I just said back in my mouth. I have no ideas. I have nothing.

“Oh, and just because you are supposed to be this
ahhhmazing skier
,” Chloe says, pursing her lips, “don't think for one second that you are going to take charge of this campaign.”

“Take charge?”

“Because last year, Piper was all over it, like she always was, weaseling her way into everything A.J. did.”

“Everything?”
Who was this girl?

“Oh my gawd, Chloe!” Ivy puts her hands to her heart and shakes her head. “You are soooo much prettier than Piper. I don't get why he had a thing for her and not you!”

“Ivy,” Chloe says, forcing a stiff smile, “it doesn't matter because Piper's gone now, and it's someone else's turn!”

“Yeah!” Ivy repeats. “Someone else's turn!”

“My turn.” Chloe stares at me angrily. “So back off!”

“
No problem,
” I say, wondering if she means back off A.J. or back off trying to take charge, or both. In any case it doesn't matter. I turn to mush whenever A.J. comes near me, so
that's
not going to happen, and as far as taking charge goes, my schedule is
jam-packed
as it is. I have no time to watch TV, let alone organize an entire fundraising campaign!

A
s the days go by, this
crazy-busy
feeling only gets worse. Don't get me wrong, I mean work is great, like really, really fun, and has been since day one!

At first, I was sooooo nervous, but I found out pretty darn quick that when you're working in a busy TV station, there's no time for nerves. There's always stuff to do from the minute I arrive until the minute I leave — things like getting coffee, delivering scripts, coordinating hair and makeup, and my specialty, taking care of important guests in the Green Room. Andy says I'm a lifesaver and that she doesn't know what she did without me (she even gave me my own cellphone), but with all I have to do, I haven't had a single second to work on getting ski gear or figuring out lessons or anything. It's been school, work, and then homework
every
single day
, except on the weekends when it's homework, chores, and tae kwon do (Mom thinks I need a distraction to take my mind off working all the time — if she only knew!) and now, on top of everything, I have to think up brilliantly creative ways to fundraise for our club, and to make matters worse, Gabby is getting impatient. She keeps insisting that I buy gear! I have no money to buy gear.

I know it would make sense to ask my parents for help, but trust me, it wouldn't! I can't get my parents involved. They'll just start asking questions … questions I don't want to answer. I have to do this on my own and just pray that Gabby doesn't say anything. I'm pretty sure she won't, though, because I told her that my mom was really stressed over the move and that we absolutely shouldn't bring it up until Mom gets the house settled. So far, so good. She hasn't said a word, which is great, but won't help me with my problem — I need cash!

A
fter two weeks of working, with only one paycheque in my pocket, I'm standing here at my locker doing the mental math to figure out just how many paycheques I'll need to cover the
crazy-long
list of things Gabby expects me to buy. Do I even have enough time?

“So, what's your plan?” A.J. demands, suddenly appearing at my locker.

“You shouldn't sneak up on people!” I bark. Besides scaring the crap out of me, he's totally thrown me off in my calculations, which I have to start all over again, plus I'm pretty positive he's asking me about my fundraising ideas, of which I have zero.

“What do you mean?” I ask, innocently.

“Fundraising ideas.” He grins. “You told Chloe you had tons?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“Cool, like what?” he challenges.

“Okay, here's one — we call all the local grocery stores and tell them we'll bag groceries for tips. Kids back home did it all the time and raised tons of money. It's a sure thing.”

“Yeah, not a bad idea, but not doable this year.” A.J. shakes his head. “Chloe and I called every grocery store within forty miles and they all said the same thing — they need at least six months' notice. So what else ya got?”

Crickets
… silence …

“Nothing?” He flashes another incredibly annoying grin.

“It's been a busy week,” I reply, scowling.

“Oh yeah, by the way, did you get your gear? Gabby said the movers lost your stuff. Bummer!”

“I'll have some fundraising ideas soon.” I say, ignoring his question.

“Super, and Hannah, you don't want to wait too long to get new gear. Ivy said they're having a big clearance sale at her uncle's store, and stuff is going fast.”

“I've been doing some research,” I reply, honestly.

“Me too!” he exclaims. “I just want to find that perfect board, you know?”

“Yup.”

“So what board are you looking at?”

“Oh gosh.” I gasp. “Look at the time. I have to be at work in seven minutes.”

“Seven minutes? Well, you better get going then,
business-lady
. Oh, and don'
t forget, I
'm looking forward to hearing more of your great ideas.” He winks.

I'm pretty sure he is making fun of me. I look down at my watch and slam my locker shut. I have six minutes left.

No Laughing Matter

L
uckily
it only takes one minute to get downstairs and out of the school and another three and a half minutes (running at top speed) to make it to the Channel Nine building.

Rodrigo at reception looks up and smiles. “Cutting it kinda close, Hannah.”

“Actually, Rodrigo, I'm one minute and thirty seconds early.”

We're both laughing when Cranky Lady, who I found out is named Gwendolyn, comes through the front doors. Gwendolyn is the
vice-president
of production. She knows everything about everything, and, according to Andy, she expects perfection at all times. She is a tall, thin, attractive woman with
grey-blue
eyes and short silver hair that's always perfectly done. She must have a thousand pairs of shoes because she wears different heels every day. And suits! That's all she wears. Either with skirts or pants; she's always in a suit, and nice ones, too, tailored to fit her to a T. She is easily the most elegant woman I have ever seen in my life. It's not hard to tell that she's the boss.

“Hannah, your hair,” Rodrigo whispers, shoving a little compact mirror in my hand. I look in the mirror, gasp, and quickly try to run my fingers through it to get the knots out. It is no use; it's all over the place. What am I going to do? The words Gwendolyn said to me on my very first day of work are now front and centre in my brain — “Miss Smart, if you're going to work here, then you must maintain a professional appearance at all times — clothing must be impeccably neat, makeup should be minimal and your hair …” She stopped at that point, shook her head, and let out a heavy sigh. “It must be cut … a minimum of six inches.”

So, then I said, “Six inches? Do I have to?” Rodrigo shook his head
no
.

This made Gwendolyn really mad. She shot Rodrigo an angry glare and then turned back to me and said, “Well … legally, I can't enforce this, of course, but, Hannah, you must realize your hair is long and unruly and needs styling. I will talk with Andy and have her arrange for you to meet with our stylist. This has to happen immediately. Do you understand?” She lowered her steely eyes to meet mine. I nodded. “A properly groomed employee makes a
hard-working
employee. Do you agree?” I nodded again. “Good. The next time I see you, I expect perfection, and, at the very least, a trim. Is this okay? Do you think this is possible?” Of course, I nodded yes again.

Now Gwendolyn is talking to a man in an
expensive-looking
grey suit. He must be important because she is (uncharacteristically) smiling, even laughing, and touching his shoulder every few seconds. She's either
star-struck
, in love, or desperately trying to impress this guy.

“I can assure you, Phillip, that we are making great strides toward broadening our audience. We are looking to diversify our programming so we will appeal to younger and older audiences.”

“Yeah, I'm impressed with the new weather guy you hired,” Phillip replies. “I've been going over the stats and ratings are up — way up. Wise decision, indeed.”

“Indeed!” Gwendolyn laughs, touching his shoulder again.

“Seems to be a hit with the older generation.”

Gwendolyn nods. “Yes, our polls confirm this.”

“I've seen the results of those polls, Gwendolyn. Quite remarkable.” He shakes his head. “It seems that the public thinks that Marty Smart is trustworthy, funny, and handsome. Old ladies especially love him. They think he'
s cute.
”

“Hmmm … yes,” Gwendolyn agrees. “It seems they do.”

“So, Andy tells me that she's hired a new production assistant.”

“Yes, Marty Smart's daughter, in fact.”

“Really? How wonderful.”

“Yes, she should be here by now. Would you like to meet her?”

What! Oh my gosh! I've been hiding behind the desk trying to do something with this mass of tangles, except I've just been making it worse.

“Rodrigo, do something!” I whisper loudly. “I can't let her see me like this, especially in front of that
important-looking
dude.”

“That dude owns the station,” Rodrigo whispers back.

“What!”

“Hannah Smart! What are you doing behind that desk?” Gwendolyn barks. Her lips are pursed, her arms are crossed, and she is tapping her foot, obviously extremely annoyed. “Hannah, please answer me. And
what
did you do to your hair?”

“
Um
…”

“Windy out there today, isn't it?”
Owner-dude
says to Gwendolyn. “Looks like Hannah got a little
wind-blown
on her way to work, that's all.”

I look up at Gwendolyn who is still frowning fiercely.

“So, how do you like working at the station, Hannah?” Phillip asks.

“Oh my gosh, I love it!” I reply as I quickly stand up from my crouching position behind the desk.

“What is it that you love about it?”

“Well … hmmm …” I scratch my head. “I guess I just love all the smiles.”

“The smiles?” Phillip looks over at Gwendolyn whose frown suddenly shifts into an uncomfortable grin.

“Yeah. I'm pretty lucky,” I say. “I get to do all those little jobs that no one else wants to do or that they just don't have time to do. I guess I kind of make people's problems go away and that makes them happy and
that
… makes them smile.”

Phillip nods. “I see your point.”

“Yes, Hannah is quite helpful,” Gwendolyn says, her thin smile quivering as she stares at my hair.

“Gwen, why don't you send Hannah over to hair and makeup. Let them work their magic. I bet they'll have her looking spiffy in no time.”

“Wonderful idea, Phillip!” Gwendolyn says, batting her eyelashes. “Hannah, please find your way to make up and then report to Andy as soon as you have yourself … put back together.”

“Of course,” I say with a quick nod as I take off down the hall toward hair and makeup.

“Hannah, I need you,
STAT
!” Andy yells as I scurry past her office.

“I'm on a mission, Andy; can it wait?” I yell from the hall.

“No, Hannah, it can't wait. This is panic stations!”

A quick
U-turn
in the hallway and I am in Andy's office. “Okay, what do you need?”

“Oh my gawd, Hannah! What happened to your hair?”

“Well, I was late leaving school and I got outside and …”

“Never mind; it doesn't matter. I need you to pick up cough drops.
Mary-Lou
has the
NATT
.”

“Oh my gosh! What's the
NATT
? It sounds awful!”

“It's the worst! It's the
news-anchor
-throat-tickle.”

“
News-anchor
-
throat-tickle
?” I giggle.

“This is serious, Hannah. She can't go on air like this. A tickle can lead to a cough and a cough can lead to a fit and a coughing fit is
NEVER, EVER
a good thing on live television. Don't you think?”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“Okay, so now that we have that settled, can you go and get some cough drops?” She holds out a
twenty-dollar
bill.

“Sure.” I smile, snatching it from between Andy'
s fingers.
“Can I keep the change?”

“Hannah, I want you back with those drops, like, five minutes ago!”

“Back in a flash!” I say and, as fast as lightning, run across the street to the drugstore, burst through the door, and proceed to run up and down every aisle, trying to find them. What kind of drugstore doesn't sell cough drops? They must be here somewhere! Finally, I ask the woman behind the counter.

“They're right there.” She points to a shelf directly behind me.

After a quick scan, I'm about to grab my
all-time
favourite,
Honey-Lemon
Halls, when it suddenly occurs to me that
Mary-Lou
might not like honey, or worse, she could be allergic. Maybe she'd prefer cherry or citrus or green tea or green tea with echinacea. There are so many choices! Herbal,
sugar-free
, gooey centers, chewy, hard,
vitamin-enriched
, warming, soothing, triple action! Why didn't Andy tell me what kind to get? How can I choose? I can't choose. Suddenly I find myself grabbing every single type of cough drop I can find. I grab bags, rolls, boxes; I have it all.

The lady at the cash gives me a look. “Bad cold?” she remarks as she rings it up. “That will be $34.68.”

“Oh, I only have twenty.” I rub my head furiously in frustration. “I can'
t do it!
” I yell, which makes her take a step backward.

“
You can
't do what?”

“I can't choose. Just give me twenty dollars' worth of … whatever.”

“What?” She frowns. “You want
me
to choose your cough drops?”

“Please!” I beg, looking down at my watch, which decided to stop right after I got into work today.

“Well, which ones do you want?”

OMG
, this is why I asked her to choose; I don't know what I want!

“Just please give me twenty dollars' worth of
ANYTHING
, and that will be perfect.”

“Okay,” she says with a shrug and starts scanning packages.

“Wait!” I yelp as she scans a value pack of
ginger-grapefruit
-menthol drops. “Not those. They sound gross.”

She looks at me annoyed. “You said anything would be perfect.”

“Yeah, I know.” I glance around looking for a clock. “Just not those.”

“Fine.” She shakes her head and voids the
ginger-grapefruit
-menthol drops, which really do sound disgusting.

Before she scans the next box of cough drops she holds them up. “Are these acceptable?”

“Yeah, sure … whatever. Just please hurry. Wait!” I screech, noticing the
extra-sour
cherry-chocolate
drops in her hand. “Not those, either!” I squish up my nose, waiting for her response, which I'm pretty sure won't be friendly.

“Look, if you want my help, let me get on with it. I do have other people to serve, if you haven't noticed.” She points to the line of impatient looking customers behind me.

I laugh uncomfortably. “Sorry, they're not for me,” I say to the lineup. “You see, one of the news anchors over at Channel Nine has the
NATT
, and it's very important that I get her these cough drops right away.”