Call Me Vi | ONC 2024 Entry | Novel Expansion Pending

Chapter 1

There was no doubt in my mind that mango was the superior fruit. So why Anette at Smoothie King gave me a grapefruit smoothie, I had absolutely no idea.

I wrinkled my nose at the orange-y pink liquid in the cup, the bitterness of the grapefruit overpowering my tastebuds. "This is not what I ordered," I told the employee behind the counter. "And I'm running late. So if you could remake it to what I did order—"

"We ran out of mango and haven't got the new shipment yet, so we had to change your fruit," Anette replied, her voice shrill over the sound of the blenders whirring behind her. "I can upgrade you instead to a larger size if you'd like."

I shook my head, holding the offending fruit containing drink away from me. "No thank you. I'll just stick to this." A quick glance at my watch told me that if I didn't get to work soon, my boss would certainly have words with me. And not the good kind.

And that was the last thing I needed today.

My not-mango smoothie and I made it with five minutes to spare through the front doors of The Smokey Tribune, home to my job as a journalist and nestled into the small town of Morganton, North Carolina.

Finally, a success from the morning. After accidentally setting my alarm to 'pm' instead of 'am', burning my toast for breakfast, and getting the wrong smoothie, this last day before my Valentine's weekend was not off to a great start. Now all I needed to do, was make it until closing without any other—

Splat.

—mishaps.

I ran smack into Hayden, my co-worker and co-conspirator of a best friend. My smoothie ran straight into me, staining pink on my white blouse.

"Dammit!"

"Sorry, Reags!" Hayden zoomed away to the kitchen that was just off of the main entrance to the building.

"It's fine," I muttered, holding my shirt away from my chest. The liquid now made it sticky, just another thing to deal with.

"One of those kinds of days, huh?" Hayden asked, handing me a stack of napkins. "Sorry about your smoothie."

"That's ok." I gratefully took the napkins from him and dabbed the best I could at my shirt. Now it looked like someone had shot me with a pink paintball. "Do you happen to have something I can borrow to wear? I swear, it's like I'm cursed or something."

"Uh, let me check my stash. Because yes, I agree, you cannot be seen in that today. Or any day."

I chuckled. Leave it to Hayden to be the fashion police.

Hayden led me over to his desk. One perk of having a best friend who wrote the fashion column was that he always knew just how to solve any fashion emergency. The hangers clanked against the metal rack that stood behind his desk, filled with samples of the latest and greatest that it was his job to review and report on for our magazine.

"Ah. Here we go. Light yellow off-the-shoulder and all you." He handed the shirt to me.

It wasn't my usual color, but it did look pretty.

"You're a lifesaver," I said. In the bathroom down the hall, I changed out of the sticky top and into the clean one. Hayden was right; the light yellow contrasted nicely against my light olive skin tone, and it paired lightly with my black pants and heels. Satisfied, I walked over to my desk which was across the floor from where Hayden sat. I shoved my ruined shirt under my desk, and logged onto my computer.

The image for our magazine The Smokey Tribune lit up on the screen. A Carolina bear with its mouth wide open, surrounded by trees and mountains in the background. As soon as the site loaded, my inbox dinged with a flood of new messages. My last story about Melody Perkins, a local singer who had been discovered at the age of thirteen at her high school's talent show, had been well received it seemed. Several people had written to the magazine, expressing interest in features on local icons, some of whom were prodigies with a knack for piano or creating comics targeted for young teens dealing with 'middle school drama'.