Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. All other characters belong to their respective creators.
Chapter 07. Hush-Hush Halfsies
Cubicle: A Valentine's Day Special.
Brought to you by Jonathan.
Pegasus carefully set down on her desk the steaming mug of green tea she just brewed in the small kitchen area, located in the back of the Lab. She stretched her arms out before plopping down onto the leather seat. Already feeling the cold blast from the broken vents above, Peg fixed the scarf around her face, retreating into it like an agitated turtle.
She had completed her tasks early today, as it was only 4PM. After double-checking her finished work on her computer—making sure the files were named correctly, that they were in the appropriate folders, and that they were uploaded to the shared drive accordingly—she absently pulled up her e-mail to see if there was anything Jack or the others needed her to do.
Nope.
Nothing important anyway. Peg did have one new e-mail: a company announcement from Jonathan, whose e-mails she usually ignored because they were normally filled with event proposals, overexcited exclamation marks, and other jibberjabber. But seeing as she had nothing better to do at the moment, she decided to open the mail.
It read:
From: Jonathan
To: pegasus(at)pulitzerpublishing(dot)com
Subject: Hush-Hush Halfsies Tomorrow!
ATTENTION PULITZER PUBLISHING EMPLOYEES AND BRILLIANT INTERNS!
As you all know by now (as I have been sending daily e-mail reminders throughout the week!) tomorrow is the annual HUSH-HUSH HALFSIES! Please show your company spirit and your TEAM spirit! Please show your fellow co-workers that you CARE!
For the precious few who are still unaware of this annual tradition, I have attached the original e-mail I sent earlier this week:
ATTENTION PULITZER PUBLISHING EMPLOYEES AND BRILLIANT INTERNS!
Mark your calendars!
The annual HUSH-HUSH HALFSIES is upon us!
That most wonderful day of the summer is drawing near! Hush-Hush Halfsies is this Friday! You read right. This Friday!
What is Hush-Hush Halfsies you ask? Excellent question.
Hush-Hush Halfsies is a summer celebration of everyone at Pulitzer Publishing. It is a celebration of YOU, the employees, by YOU, the employees! Hush-Hush Halfsies was inspired by the Secret Santa tradition, in which, as many know, a person secretly and randomly picks a name out of a hat, for whom he or she is to present a gift. But why should this exciting custom come once a year? Hence Hush-Hush Halfsies: an event that takes place at the year's half point mark!
Hush-Hush Halfsies is a day when you show your appreciation for a special co-worker by presenting them with cards, hugs, gifts, compliments, chocolates, flowers, a pat on the back - anything!
"Oh! But I am too shy to do such a thing!" you say? Here's the best part for you, then: you can make your own appreciation known anonymously (hence the "Hush-Hush" of Hush-Hush Halfsies)! For example, you can send an anonymous card of thanks. How easy is that?
This Friday, be prepared to demonstrate your TEAM spirit, to share your gratitude, and to be showered with love!
This Friday. Hush-Hush Halfsies.
If you have any questions, I, Jonathan, would be more than happy to address them.
Yours truly,
Jonathan
jonathan(at)pulitzerpublishing(dot)com
Assistant to Mr. Pulitzer
Head Event Coordinator
Head Intern Coordinator
Oh, grief, a Jonathan event, Peg thought wearily. Surely that meant he'd be running around the building all day tomorrow, sticking his nose in other people's cubicles and making certain everyone was celebrating the event. She had never heard of this "Hush-Hush Halfsies," as she had only begun working at the Pulitzer Publishing Company since the beginning of the year. She thought to ask Jack or Swifty, who had interned in the summer, but her attention was diverted when an instant message window popped up on her screen. It was Stress.
curiouserx2: Oh my god, did you get the email?
Peg wrote back:
ImaPirate20: About "Yay, Hush-Hush Halfsies!"?
ImaPirate20: *facepalm*
curiouserx2: I know
curiouserx2: I asked David about it. Apparently this "team spirit" nonsense is Jonathan's sneaky way of adding a second Valentine's Day in the year, and it's become a day for people to get gifts for their work crushes.
curiouserx2: You-know-who said that it's Jonathan's way of trying to get people to love him. Heh heh.
ImaPirate20: That's… kind of sad.
ImaPirate20: Wait, you talked to Jack?(!) Why was I not notified of this momentous occasion?
curiouserx2: Shh, not so loud! I mean… you know what I mean. David told me that it's what you-know-who said. Not me, I didn't talk to you-know-who.
ImaPirate: Voldemort?
curiouserx2: Haha
ImaPirate20: I don't see the point of this thing tomorrow.
ImaPirate20: As if we single girls need another day of chugging down a gallon of rocky road ice cream in our corners while everyone else stare googly-eyed at each other. Mutiny, I say! Mutiny!
curiouserx2: Hear, hear!
curiouserx2: …
curiouserx2: … so?
ImaPirate20: what?
curiouserx2: Who's going to be your Halfsie?
Next Day. The Lab
Maybe I should make an appointment with a chiropractor, Acorn thought sardonically, when, with a grimace, she felt an alarming crack in her spine. It was 8:30AM and she was just entering the building with her arms full of brown bags. The weight of the bags today was proving to be more than she could handle. Jonathan had been talking about Hush-Hush Halfsies for weeks—in fact, he'd talked of nothing else. In order to properly kick off his event, he had Acorn place an order for and pick up an array of bagels, various flavors of cream cheeses, breakfast sandwiches, mini-donuts, muffins, apple juice, orange juice, and iced coffee. Acorn thought her arms were going to fall out of their sockets. It was impossible—impossible!—for one person to do all this work. Yet here she was, managing the workload of at least four people all by herself.
Positive thoughts, Acorn reminded herself, taking a deep, cleansing breath. This was no time to panic.
She shuffled to the elevator, dropped the bags on the floor momentarily, pressed the button for the elevator and waited. She was a bit disappointed by the morning's events so far, having had to: wake up earlier than usual in order to come to work early, pick up seven bags worth of breakfast groceries, trek the seven long New York City blocks that separated the café and the office. But most of all, she was disappointed by the lack of bumping into a certain Jack Kelly, the guy who had wonderfully helped her carry the coffee trays. After she met him that morning, she had taken up the privileges that came with being a top Assistant and searched for "Mr. Kelly" (as Jonathan had called him) in their employee files, discovering that he was part of the company's Web Team, which meant that, typically, he spent most of his time working in the Lab.
Of course she wouldn't bump into him; no one came into work before 9AM. She sighed before lugging all of her bags into the elevator. Acorn paused with her finger poised towards the buttons as the lift doors slid to a close and waited for her direction.
A crazy idea occurred to her. She couldn't believe the thought had the nerve to even enter her mind. It must have been all this ridiculous Hush-Hush Halfsies talk from Jonathan getting to her. Acorn laughed softly in disbelief: Hush-Hush Halfsies was such a silly event, and from the moment Jonathan mentioned it, it had been the bane of her life, as evident by the three-ton bags she now carried in her arms.
And yet still, the idea remained, persistent. She couldn't believe what she was about to do.
Acorn stepped off the elevator and struggled through the glass Lab doors. The place was, as expected, empty. Putting down the bags once again, she rummaged through each one and dug out a breakfast sandwich—egg, bacon, and cheese on a plain bagel—a blueberry muffin, and an iced coffee. With the items cradled in her arms, she crept around the Lab, reading the name plates, searching for his desk. She had circled around the place until she found his lone cubicle in the nook that apparently belonged to the Web Team. Acorn pushed the keyboard slightly out of the way and neatly laid the breakfast on his desk.
She felt oddly nervous, like a giddy schoolgirl about to pass by her crush in the hallway. She wondered what time he would get into the office.
Glancing at her watch and realizing she was running late, Acorn quickly grabbed the bags and headed for the elevators.
Jack entered the Lab that morning, walking in long strides. A busy day awaited him, with meetings scheduled for most of the day. His first meeting was going to begin in twenty minutes and he barely had time to go, wait in the insanely long line, and snatch the free Hush-Hush Halfsies breakfast downstairs. Jack turned the corner into the Web Team's nook and fell into his seat, deciding to check his e-mail before the meeting.
He stopped. Sitting expectantly on his desk was a wrapped sandwich, a muffin, an iced coffee, and a napkin. His stomach growled greedily. Jack looked around, wondering who left the food on his desk. The only person nearby was Pegasus.
"Hey," he called. She looked up from behind her huge glasses. "You know who left this here?" he asked, indicating the breakfast on his desk.
Peg shook her head. "They were there when I got in."
Jack raised a brow, suspicious.
She caught the look. "It's Hush-Hush Halfsies," she said obviously, as if that alone were a sufficient explanation. When he still looked blank, she further explained: "Someone left that breakfast for you. It looks like you've got yourself a little secret admirer," she said merrily.
"Huh. Yeah?" Jack slowly reached for the sandwich, hastily unwrapped it, took a bite, and sighed from absolute happiness. He didn't realize how hungry he had been until that first mouthful.
A secret admirer, huh? Jack leaned back in his seat.
He wondered who it was.
Polaroid was on mailroom duty today—a very tedious but demanding task due to the large volumes of mail that came in daily. This was her second time down in the mailroom and she learned that it was essential to bring her mp3 player with her this time around. She almost fell asleep the first time she sorted mail; luckily, she had caught herself before dozing off completely and falling face first into the pile of envelopes.
She plugged in her earphones and turned the volume up. It began with a bobbing of the head, a snapping of the fingers, then a tapping of the feet, and soon Polaroid was completely in her own world, surrounded by only the music and rhythm from her mp3 player. She flew and pirouetted around the mailroom, her graceful form reaching for new mail, then tossing them over her shoulder into the appropriate bins. Polaroid felt most at ease with herself when she was dancing—all of her anxieties, insecurities, timidity dissolved away into nothingness when she danced. She was free, without a care in the world.
So absorbed was she in her music that she didn't hear the mailroom door open behind her.
Bumlets stood in the doorway, completely bemused and amused by the scene before him. Specs was expecting an urgent package and had asked him to go check if it had arrived. The last thing Bumlets expected to see in the mailroom was a girl kick ball changing and free spinning around the place. Her dark brown hair fanned out softly about her shoulders as she made another elegant turn. He wasn't sure whether he should interrupt or simply go about his own business. But she looked so content and at peace that he decided to quickly sift through the packages and make a speedy exit.
Just as soon as he made the choice, though, the girl twirled around again, moving towards the door and him. Bumlets, frozen, stared helplessly as her brown eyes met his and opened wide in shock. She had stopped directly in front of him.
She let out a surprised squeak and a "holy buddy!" and jumped back, her face turning crimson from embarrassment.
"Uh…" Bumlets uttered awkwardly. "Hi."
She blinked a couple of times, as though to gather her senses, then gave a terse nod of acknowledgment. She pulled out her earphones, stuffed them in her jeans pocket and stiffly returned to sorting, cautiously avoiding him at all costs.
Bumlets felt embarrassed himself for having been caught staring and for causing her embarrassment. He racked his brain, trying to remedy the uncomfortable situation.
"Um… so, do you dance a lot?" He groaned inwardly. Stupid, stupid question.
The girl barely looked in his direction. "Sometimes," she answered meekly.
"You're really good. You take any classes?" he asked.
This time, he managed to obtain a small smile. "No, I just dance for fun."
"Really? I take jazz and contemporary classes at this awesome dance center in Midtown. You should think about taking it up seriously."
She let out a self-conscious chuckle. "I'm not that good," she said modestly.
"No, really, you are. You've got great lines." Bumlets almost smacked himself in the forehead when he heard his own words. Oh, man, that sounded like a really bad pick-up line. He hoped she didn't think he was some creepy flirt with cheesy one-liners.
It didn't seem like she did. The girl beamed up at him, appreciative of the compliments. "I've always wanted to take dance classes."
Bumlets grinned. "Tell ya what. I'll give you the number and address of the dance center and you can go check it out. Trial classes are free," he added.
"That would be really nice," she said, looking up at him bashfully through her lashes.
He grinned, and reluctantly resumed looking for Specs' package as she carried on with sorting the mail.
"Sorry," Bumlets spoke again, "I didn't catch your name. Are you an intern?"
She nodded. "Polaroid. I intern at Human Resources."
"I'm Bumlets," he introduced, extending a hand. "The lone intern at Finance."
Polaroid's eyes went wide again. "You're the Finance intern that switched places with me?"
Corner Pizza Place
Lunchtime!
Adren pushed open the door into the corner pizza place where a long line had already formed. She picked up a cold beverage from the coolers and took her place in the back of the line. The aroma of freshly baked bread, melting cheeses, roasted vegetables, and special pizza sauce wafted from the firing ovens. Adren peered through the glass at the pizzas on display and settled on the Specialty pizza for today for all its vegetable toppings, pepperoni and sausage. She tapped her chin, wondering if she brought enough money to get a side of garlic knots, too.
"Hey, Post-it Girl."
Breaking off from her musings, Adren turned abruptly. Itey stood two people behind her. She waved, grinning. "Hi, CD WonderBoy!"
He smirked, amused. It was the first time he saw her since the supply room incident a couple of days ago. Somehow, she looked different today. He couldn't quite put a finger on it. Maybe it was the setting: seeing a fellow intern outside of the Pulitzer building was probably throwing him off. That explanation wasn't enough. Maybe it was because he could see her features clearly for the first time (it was difficult to discern physical characteristics in the dark of an eerie supply room): she was actually on the petite side, with shoulder-length auburn hair, olive green eyes, and a bright smile.
"What?" she asked suddenly.
"What?"
"Do I have something on my face?" Adren asked, poking at her cheeks.
Itey felt his face flush. "Uh… yeah, right—right there. Yeah, it's gone now."
She grinned. "Thanks."
The line moved quickly. Adren pulled up to the counter, placed her order, and continued along to the cash register. Itey soon followed, ordering two slices of pepperoni and one of the Specialty. A clinking of change caught his attention and he turned to watch Adren counting her coins on the counter.
"How much are the zeppole?" she asked the man at the register. When the man replied, her shoulders visibly slumped. "Oh, nevermind then. Just the pizza, thank you."
After paying, she happily took the small brown bag with her pizza and headed for the door, planning to return to the office. Just before leaving, she turned around and gave Itey another wave.
"See you later!"
"Yeah, later," he returned.
He stepped up to the register to pay.
"That's one specialty and two pepperoni, one soda. That'll be $8.10."
"Erm, can I get some of those, too?" Itey asked, pointing.
"Sure thing. Then your total is $11.10. All right, a twenty, here's your change, $8.90. Thank you, have a nice day."
"Thanks."
Editor's Floor
"Wow. Wow," whispered Adren. She exited the conference room in a state of complete awe.
When she came back to the office from the pizza place, an emergency meeting was in the midst of assembling. Kloppman had been calling all the editors to the conference room and Adren watched, amazed, at the stream of editors marching at his command. Stress had pulled her over and asked her if she wanted to sit in on the meeting. Adren, of course, heartily went along.
It was the first meeting she had attended when all the editors assembled in one room.
"I feel so official now," she said as she returned to her desk. Though the excitement from the meeting remained, another feeling quickly made itself known: hunger. Her pizza was surely cold now. Maybe she could go to the kitchen and heat it up in the microwave. She reached for the brown bag and instantly realized that there were two bags sitting on her desk.
"What's this?" she pondered aloud. She opened both bags and peeked inside: one was her pizza slice, the other was, surprisingly, a plate of zeppole. But I didn't buy any zeppole, she thought in confusion. She noticed, then, a post-it stuck haphazardly on the outside of the zeppole bag. She squinted and read the sloppily handwritten note:
Thanks for helping in the supply room
(no thanks for the clobbering of the head)
Happy Hush-Hush Halfsies
- Itey
The Lab
Peg's phone buzzed, alarming her. She plucked out her earphones and picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is you-know-who there?"
"Nope. Why?"
"Do you know if he's had lunch?"
"Um, not sure. I think he's just been in meetings all day so far."
"Okay, thanks."
Half an hour later, Peg's phone began vibrating again.
"Yep?"
"Hi, is you-know-who there?"
"Not yet."
"Are Swifty and Race there?"
"Nope, I think they're at lunch."
"How many people are in the Lab right now?"
"Uh…" Peg stretched her neck over her cubicle to count. "A handful."
"A handful, huh?" Stress paused. "Can you do me a huge favor?"
After orchestrating an elaborate plan, Pegasus eventually met Stress in the elevator, covertly took the plastic bag in her hands, saw Stress off on the Editor's floor, returned down to the Lab and delivered the plastic bag to Jack's desk, who was still in his meeting.
When he returned to his cubicle fifteen minutes later, he noticed the bag straight away.
"Hey, Peg. Did you see who left this here?"
"Hmm? Nope," she lied. Then, she feigned exaggerated interest. "Another Hush-Hush Halfsie? You sure are popular!" she said gaily.
Jack removed the plastic bowl from the bag and popped open the lid. Upon laying his eyes on the bowl's contents, he laughed and sighed as if he were in heaven. "I think I'm starting to like this Halfsies day." Just in time for lunch, too, he thought.
"The Santa Fe wrap combo," he said to himself happily. "My favorite."
Human Resources
"You look happy about something," said Corky observantly as Polaroid returned from the mailroom.
"Do I?" Polaroid asked, self-conscious.
"What is it?" Corky asked excitedly, leaning forward.
"It's nothing," Polaroid said bashfully, tucking her hair behind her ear. She spied a box wrapped in sparkling paper on Corky's desk. "What's that?"
Corky held the box proudly. "What, this?" She grinned sheepishly. "It's for my Hush-Hush Halfsie."
"Really?"
Corky nodded so gleefully that she had to adjust the eyeglasses on the bridge of her nose. She had been thinking about Hush-Hush Halfsies ever since she read the first e-mail from Jonathan.
Polaroid didn't have to venture a guess as to who Corky's intended Halfsie was. It was, actually, one of the first things she learned on her internship.
"When are you going to give it to him?" she asked Corky, who suddenly looked bashful.
Corky stole a brief glance towards his desk, collected all the courage she could muster, and rose carefully from her seat. She made for his cubicle.
"Hi, Dutchy," she said, hoping her voice didn't betray how nervous she felt.
"Heya, Cork Spork! How can I help ya?"
"Heh, well… um… it's Hush-Hush Halfsies today and…" She thrust the box in front of his face. "Here."
Dutchy looked momentarily stunned. Corky's face fell, mistaking the lack of reaction as a rejection; she slowly pulled the box back, at which Dutchy—snapping out of his astonished state—sprung into motion, grabbing the box and hugging it to his chest. A boyish grin formed along his face.
"Wow, Corky," he said gratefully. "You're my first ever Halfsie."
"'Cause no one else loves you," informed Pie happily.
Dutchy winked at Corky. "He's just jealous he didn't get anything yet. Can I open it?" he asked, shaking the box curiously.
When she nodded in response, he eagerly tore at the wrapping, plucked at the tape, and opened the box. He let out a hoot of laughter as he extracted a small bobblehead doll in his spitting image, with light blonde hair, thin-framed glasses and a tan shirt.
Corky had actually spotted the bobblehead in a gift shop a couple of months ago. She hadn't thought much on it, for that was before she came to work at Pulitzer Publishing and before she met Dutchy. In a moment of enlightenment yesterday during lunch, she recalled Dutchy's likeness to the doll—or rather, the doll's likeness to Dutchy - and went straight to the gift shop after work. Corky had been lucky as she snatched the last remaining doll on display.
"Pie, look at this—it's a mini-me," Dutchy announced smugly, shaking and showing off the bobblehead.
"Haha, looks just like you," said Pie. "Big head and everything."
Dutchy turned to Corky, pointing a thumb in Pie's direction. "Jealous."
She smiled softly. "Do you like it?"
"Are you kidding? Of course I love it! How could I not love something that looks as handsome as me?"
Corky laughed, relieved that he genuinely liked the gift. "I just wanted to get you something for helping me that day when I came to interview."
Dutchy chuckled. "Oh, yeah. I remember. You ran around the entire building like someone training for the marathon."
"And when you asked me what I was looking for—"
"—turned out you were looking for this exact office," Dutchy finished. He added jokingly, "And who better to direct you to HR than an HR man?"
Corky felt her heart swell knowing that Dutchy remembered their first meeting so vividly. "You were so nice to me that day—making jokes so I wouldn't be nervous. I really appreciated it."
"What can I say? It's a gift I have," he said, sighing dramatically.
She laughed. "Happy Hush-Hush Halfsies, Dutchy."
"Happy Halfsies, Corkmeister."
The Lab.
"Dear Irish Flare,
Today is Hush-Hush Halfsies
I have been weakened in the knees
You are so beautiful and smart
O, be still my heart!
I fell for you at first sight
You are so dynamite!
I hope you have a great day
No worries or problems today - hurray!"
"What d'you think?" Snitch asked.
"This… is a poem?" Itey asked in horror, holding Snitch's card in his hands as though it were a wholly hideous and disgusting creature.
"I wrote it last night. You think I should tweak it a little before I give the card to her?"
"I think you should burn it."
"Shut up. I'm serious."
"So am I. This is the most awful thing I've ever read."
"Like you could do better."
"A five-year old could do better."
Snitch huffed up defensively. "I'm gonna go for a second opinion."
"Good luck," said Itey, shoving the card back at him.
Snitch moseyed over to Mush and Kid Blink, who shared a wide cubicle in front of them. "Hey, guys," he called.
"Hiya, Snitch," they greeted cheerfully. "What's up?" asked Blink.
"Wanna read a poem I wrote for my Hush-Hush Halfsie?"
Mush's interest was instantly piqued. "Is it a love poem?" he asked.
"Sure is," Snitch said enthusiastically.
He handed them the card on which he wrote his poem and waited anxiously for their response. Blink took the card and shared it with Mush, who stood up to read over his friend's shoulder. Their faces changed from interest to disbelief to denial, then back to disbelief.
"Uh, Snitch," Mush began slowly, "I don't know how to tell you this, but… this is really, really, just really bad."
Snitch frowned. "Really?"
"Yeah," Blink agreed. After a moment, he offered helpfully, "Try writing more about her."
"Pick out something about her - her hair, her eyes. Write what's in your heart, you know?" said Mush.
"What's in my heart, huh?" Snitch mumbled thoughtfully. "Thanks, guys. I'll try that."
Snitch went back to his desk, erased the poem, picked up a pencil, and reflected carefully on how he felt. He soon realized that translating his emotions into words was not a simple task. How could he articulate the delicate and intangible feelings that he felt whenever he saw Irish Flare? Snitch sighed, his brows furrowed deep in concentration. With a steady, composed hand, he put pencil to paper and finally began to write.
Human Resources
"I don't know how to begin
Every time I see you, I wonder
Art thou an angel?
Cascading raven locks, captivating blue eyes.
I'm spellbound.
Heady under your magic, I wonder
Could this be a curse?
To love another, who turns the other cheek.
I'm not sure.
But this I know, my dear Irish Flare
I'd rather be cursed under your hex
Than to not have known your enchantment
At all.
- Snitch
P.S. Happy Hush-Hush Halfsies!"
"Oh, my god," Irish Flare whispered after she finished reading the card that was left on her desk.
"What's the matter?" snapped Justine.
"Nothing," Irish quickly replied, hiding the card from her boss.
She allowed herself to fall back into her chair. She looked down at the card and frowned in incredulity. Never had she seen anyone be so forward in their adoration. Irish knew that what Snitch felt was just that: adoration, puppy-love, a small crush. Unfortunately, she didn't feel the same way. How could she deal with this situation? She rubbed at her temple. Maybe, she thought, it was best to let the crush run its short course. That seemed to be the best solution for now. Snitch would surely forget about her within a week's time.
Fully convinced, Irish turned her attention to the computer and returned to work.
What she didn't know then, though, was that this was only the beginning…
The Lab
At 4:30PM, David entered the Lab. He exhaled a heavy sigh. He carried by his side a large picnic basket, blanketed on the inside by a red-and-white checkered cloth. Frowning by the empty desk, David looked this way and that, searching the Lab. When he could not find what he sought, David sighed again. Left with no other choice, he dropped the basket down on Jack's desk along with a small card.
Just as he made to leave and return to the Finance office, he caught the odd looks and raised eyebrows of Race and Swifty.
"What?" asked David.
"Nothin', Dave," said Race. "What'cha got there?" he questioned, eyeing the basket.
"Oh, some cookies and stuff."
"Uh-huh," Swifty said suspiciously. "Halfsies?"
"Yeah," David confirmed. Then understanding hit him at once. "Oh. Oh! No, these - these are from my sister, Sarah."
"Oh!" said Swifty and Race together in realization.
"Oh yeah, I remember Sarah," Race said, nodding.
"You guys didn't actually think that I…? Because no way," said David. "Jack and I are friends. Just friends."
"No, no, of course not!" said Swifty, overcompensating.
"Yeah, Davey, of course it's from Sarah. We ain't stupid," Race added.
"Good," David said, relieved to clear the misunderstanding.
Jack came strolling in at that moment, slowing down when he saw David by his cubicle. He then noticed the basket sitting on his desk.
"Hey, Davey. This from you?" asked Jack.
"No, darn it! They're from Sarah. She made all this for you when I told her about the stupid Halfsies day Jonathan announced," David insisted.
Jack ignored his friend's denial as he picked up and quickly read the card addressed to him. The basket was indeed prepared by Sarah, as she wrote him a Happy Hush-Hush Halfsies.
"Thanks, pal. Happy Hush-Hush Halfsies to you, too," Jack said to David teasingly, feigning ignorance of the plain evidence presented in the card.
"Haha."
Author's Note: I had been stuck on what and who to write about for Chapter 7, but luckily inspiration struck in the form of an incredibly fluffy Valentine's Day Special. Since I can't actually use Valentine's Day (it is the middle of summer in Cubicle land, after all), I had Jonathan come up with this lame-o idea and highlighted all the amazing OCs of Cubicle in their own little segment. It was kind of an ambitious chapter for me to write, but I'm glad I saw it through. Hope you enjoyed this Special Presentation!
