Pride, Mates, and Past Mistakes

Not Exactly What I Expected

*Sierra*

“And this, Ms. Brimingwall, is your room.”

The IPKA employee pulled out two keys, handed one to me, and used the other to unlock the door.

My jaw dropped open.

To call it a ‘room’ was to do it injustice; it looked more like a luxury flat to me. The so called ‘room’ was shaped like a gigantic half oval. The whole curved edge was a huge glass window, and in the middle were the glass doors to a balcony. To the far left of the half-oval room lay a king sized bed, with the most comfortable looking, fluffy white sheets and pillows.

I was really, really tempted to throw myself on that bed.

After a long, restless flight spent with me anxiously asking the hostess for more and more cokes (which resulted in multiple bathroom visits, causing me to gain a lot of staring from the passengers) and fretting over what would happen at home because I left and in the IPKA, that bed looked very inviting.

Directly in front of me, in the center of the room, sat a huge, flat screened TV, which was parallel to a gray couch. On the far right was a very modern looking kitchen.

As the employee flitted around, pointing out the locations of bathrooms and other amenities, I unconsciously drifted over to the giant glass wall.

The moment I looked out, I let out a breath of pure happiness. The window overlooked a huge city. Although most of the people were probably still sleeping—as it was just five in the morning—the view was beautiful. On the bottom was a bustling street, with cars and people walking around in business attire, yet when you looked up, above the buildings and skyscrapers it was the pinkish blue sky, the colors of the dusk. The sun was beginning to show.

I turned around and leaned against the glass and resumed watching the employee flutter around. She was in the kitchen now, opening and closing drawers, saying, “…and has been freshly restocked and should last you for about a week, but after that you will need to buy your own groceries—”

“Wait,” I said, suddenly alert. My right hand drifted to the purse I clutched in my left, which contained the college savings I hadn’t spent yet. Even though it was a lot, it would never last me a year to buy groceries, let alone a few weeks. “I—I didn’t know we were supposed to bring money,” I said to her. “I…I don’t even know if I have money to last me a few weeks—”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she laughed, closing the oven which she had just opened. “Why on earth would you need to bring money? I daresay you’re being paid more than enough for a child your age.” She said, pulling out oven mitts from a drawer and placing them on the counter near the oven.

I blinked. Did she think I was rich? “But…I’m not being paid anything…?” I asked, confused.

She straightened up, looking incredulous. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about your salary?” she said in disbelief.

“What salary?” The most I’d ever worked in my life was watching some pack kids when the parents went out, but even then, it’s not like I was paid.

The employee smiled. “Sweetheart, being an intern isn’t just training to become a Representative, it’s also a job. You and the two others are practically the current Representative’s assistants, in a way. Sure, she’ll assign you things to do and such, but mostly you follow her around. It’s the best way to get hands-on experience about the life of a Representative. Also, you bring her coffee, paper, pens, run her errands, et cetera. It’s a job, too, see.”

I gaped at her. This was new. “So I get paid?” I gasped.

She nodded and gave me a one-dimpled smile. “Mmmhmm. And like I said before, a whopping amount for a young girl like you—or anyone, really— and it’s certainly more than I get,” she snorted. Suddenly she gasped and reached into her pocket. “Oh! That reminds me—here,” she said, sliding a plastic card into my hand, “this is where your money will go. There’s an ATM on the sixth floor. Every week your money will be added to your account. If you ever lose it, alert someone immediately—otherwise anyone can use it.”