Second.

Andy felt strangely apprehensive about this assignment from the moment she got it. For the better part of the week it puzzled her why a prospect of an independent coverage of a worthy cause would make her feel anything but pleased. Especially, when the event took place on Thursday night, the same night she was supposed to go on a blind date with the secretary's neighbor. The poor woman had been trying to set her up for so long that Andy had ran out of all the excuses, and the assignment came extremely handy.

Even now, sitting in the brightly lit auditorium, Andy fidgeted so much that Sean, her photographer, a young guy ecstatic to be on his fist real job, stopped adjusting and readjusting his camera and asked, "Hey, are you feeling okay?"

She stilled. "Yes, I am fine. Fine."

The guy uttered a noncommittal "hmm" and glanced at his watch. "Shouldn't they start already?"

"Um. Yeah." Andy took out her notebook and opened the program. Alright, "Presented by…" "Third Annual Concert…" "Funds raised…" "this year's Charity organizations include…" "sponsors…" Andy gritted her teeth, "Focus, damn it, focus!"

"Andy?" Sean looked at her, frowning.

"Sorry," she said, as the lights began to dim. "Sometimes I like to talk to myself."

"Hmm," the guy uttered again.

Meanwhile, the announcer, a performance arts teacher from one of the participating schools, came on stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, dear parents and guests…"

And then it hit Andy. Hurriedly she grabbed the program and in a faint red light of the Exit sign above her head read the title page again. Shit. How could she not think of it before?! One of the schools participating in the concert was the school Miranda Priestly's twin daughters went to.

Shit.

Her hand shaking slightly Andy opened the program and read the names of the kids performing. Sure enough, next to the last number in the concert was a piece from "Swan Lake" danced by, among others, Caroline and Cassidy Priestly. The thin paper of the program crumpled in her hands. Shit.

This was exactly what she needed – a chance to run into Miranda Priestly. Andy still cringed every time she remembered her unexplainable chase of the woman and her daughters in the Guggenheim Museum almost two months ago--.

"I'll get these kids."

Andy glanced at the photographer, then at the stage. "Um. Yeah. Um. Yeah." Shit. She really had to focus. She had work to do. She had to--.

Andy cautiously looked around. In the dark she could see only few people, sitting close by. None of them was Miranda Priestly. Good. The woman might not even be there at all.

Andy inhaled and exhaled slowly, took out a pen, but then paused. No, short of a hurricane or some other natural disasters, Miranda wouldn't miss this concert. Shit. Andy frowned and began forcefully jot down notes on the concert program.

As the applause erupted at the end of the first number, she told herself that the fact the woman was there didn't necessarily mean they would actually meet. Andy's grip on a pen relaxed a bit.

By the end of the fifth number Andy decided that meeting Miranda there might not be all that terrifying. After all, the woman knew nothing about being followed around Guggenheim. Besides, the assignment should occupy Andy enough to resist any kind of foolish urges. And if she did run into Miranda, it would be just a simple "Hello, how are you?" type of thing.

By the time she heard the first sounds of "Swan Lake," Andy's concert program was covered with notes sufficient to create a front-page article, let alone a small story in Around the Town, and she almost smiled, seeing the familiar redhead girls in a pretty white tutus.

After the concert Andy and Sean went backstage. She interviewed several kids, who participated in the concert, while he took some close up shots.

On the way out Andy spoke to Mrs. Whitaker, the principal of the school, which organized the event.

At the end the woman asked, "Ms. Sachs, would you mind terribly if I ask you to e-mail me a copy of your article before you submit it to your editor?"

"Um." Andy looked at her somewhat surprised. "Yeah, I guess."

Sensing the confusion Mrs. Whitaker explained. "You see, a lot of children attending the participating schools come from rather--er--prominent families. Hence we do have to exercise extreme caution when mentioning certain names in print." She smiled primly. "You do understand, don't you?"

After a brief hesitation, Andy nodded. She considered if she should tell Mrs. Whitaker that having spent almost a year working for Miranda Priestly, she had learned a thing or two about prominent people and caution. However before she decided either way, she froze, suddenly feeling as if a piece of ice slithered down her spine. Andy shivered and slowly turned to look back. Her gaze was met by Miranda Priestly's intense stare.

Instantaneously forgetting all about Mrs. Whitaker, and the plan of a simple "Hello, how are you," and her own need to breath for that matter, Andy thought, "Oh. Shit."

When a long moment later Miranda looked away, returning her attention to the couple she was having a conversation with, Andy shakily inhaled and exhaled. Oh, shit.

"So, do you want to get a drink or something?"

Startled, Andy gaped at Sean, then at Mrs. Whitaker, who already was speaking with an angry-looking woman, holding a little boy in a suit by the hand, then back at Sean.

"Um." She peeked over her shoulder to where Miranda stood only a few feet away, listening to a man next to her. "Um."

She could only see a part of Miranda's face, and she watched it for several moments as if waiting for her former boss to turn and look at her again. The woman didn't. Andy frowned, not entirely sure if she was relived that the encounter, she worried so much about, seemed to be over.

"Andy?" Sean was waiting for her answer.

"Um, sure." She finally managed. "Sure. Let's go."