JENNIE

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"Miss Fowler's class is being introduced to creative writing this year and asked if we'd like to show the kids what a successful functioning paper looks like," says Stefan with his arm draped across Lisa's cubicle wall. As usual, he's the picture of power and authority as the rest of us stand around in an awkward not-circle circle. "I expect everyone to be welcoming and accommodating."

I shift on my feet, gripping my plastic-wrapped plate of chocolate chip and MnM cookies a little tighter. I don't know how touring the Gazette will be a help to Miss Fowler's first-grade class when it comes to creative writing, but maybe we can at least be an inspiration to some aspiring young writer.

I would've loved to go on a field trip like this in school. All we had the opportunity to do was tour historical reenactments in and around Ohio. So ya know, if you would've asked me how to churn butter at age eight, I could've at least told you the basics.

Lucas shoots his hand up in the air like we're the ones in Miss Fowler's class. Stefan bobs his head in Lucas's direction, prompting him to speak.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Sanders. Would it be all right if I personally showed the kids how we fold the papers? I think some hands-on experience would be fun and engaging for them." He smiles wide, revealing his perfectly white teeth, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He's just trying to win more brownie points with our boss. I'd bet all the money in my savings that Lucas hasn't rolled a newspaper in this office once.

"I think that would be very helpful," Stefan says, returning Lucas's smile.

Ugh. Lucas, one. Jennie, zero.

"I made cookies," I blurt, holding up the plate like an offering. "I…uh…thought the kids would enjoy something sweet after the tour." With everyone's eyes on me, I regret speaking up.

"That's nice, Jennie," Stefan says, his smile oddly warm. "Maybe you can set up a refreshment table in the break room."

I dip my chin, relieved to be given a somewhat meaningful task, but I don't miss the annoyed look Lucas sends my way. It's become a habit of mine to ignore him, though. If he can show the kids how to fold the papers, the least I can do is feed them snacks.

Just twenty minutes later, a large group of little kids descends on the office with marker-smudged hands and toothy grins. Miss Fowler is a tall, older woman with thick glasses, but she seems to have the kids well-in-hand.

After Stefan makes initial introductions, we're all asked to stand at our cubicles and wait for the kids to make their rounds. They start at the far end where Les works, and knowing they'll be there for a while, I mosey over to Lisa's side of the wall.

Her eyes are already on me when I turn toward her. "So, you think the kids will enjoy this?"

She rests an arm on the corner of her cubicle wall and half-shrugsbefore signing, Time will tell.

"What are you going to tell them about what you do?" I eye her messy desk. Stacks of colorful sticky notes, a plastic piggy bank full of pennies, and a small cup overflowing with pens, highlighters, and scissors sits on one side of her desk while the other boasts a potted plant with a small spritzer, her Star Wars coffee mug, a bottle of Pepsi and a weird-looking alien head.

In contrast, my desk has my one succulent, Beatrice, a small salt lamp, and my coffee mug that reads, "Wears Black. Loves Coffee. Avoids People."

Lisa's lips tip up in an almost flirty smile. I'm telling them I'm Superman, she signs. During the day, I work at the paper, but in the evening, I'm a superhuman hero. I can't help but laugh, but when she starts unbuttoning her shirt, all humor leaves me.

"Lisa? W-what are you…?" Before I can finish my question, she tears open her shirt, revealing a giant S on whatever Superman costume she's wearing underneath her shirt and tie.

I sputter another laugh. "You're serious right now?"

She can't hear me, but she's grinning so wide and proud, I think she already knows how amusing I find this little idea of hers.

I grab her arm and meet her eyes. "You're not seriously going to do this are you? I doubt Stefan will find it funny."

She waves off my concern with a smirk, then reaches into her top desk drawer and pulls out a pair of her blue-light glasses. To finish the look, she signs, then puts them on.

Another giggle works its way to my lips. Lisa mimics the Superman stance with her fists on her hips and it takes an enormous amount of effort not to gape at how handsome she looks in glasses. They accentuate her strong jaw and her wavy, dark curls. I have the sudden urge to twist my fingers in them and see if they look as soft as they feel.

She clears her throat, and my eyes meet hers. Her smirk grows wider. Lost in thought?

Heat charges into my cheeks at her signed question. The way she's looking at me says she knows just how lost my thoughts actually got. "Um, no," I say, trying to make a smooth recovery. "I just think you look…ya know…good with glasses. That's all." I lift my shoulders like it's no big deal, even though my blush probably tells a different story.

Thankfully, Miss Fowler's class chooses that moment to stride up to Lisa's cubicle. I hang back and creep to my own before her handsomeness has any more chances to affect me. She quickly buttons her shirt's middle button and covers it with her tie before turning toward the class. Apparently, she really is going for the whole Clark Kent-Superman act.

I shake my head at my friend's antics. Something about her feels different lately. Maybe it all stemmed from when she acted a little jealous over Tae's texts, or maybe it was when we got lost in the corn field together, I don't know. But either way, her looks and touches feel like…more.

Like maybe there's something she's trying to tell me beneath the surface of her smiles or the sparkle in her eyes. I'm too afraid to look deeper, though. What Lisa and I share is special. It's not every day co-workers get along the way we do. I know that all too well. We actually want to be together during working hours and even after.

What if I read into the signals I think she's sending me and find out I'm mistaken? Am I willing to risk losing our easy friendship here at work on what ifs? Some days, it feels like she's my only ally here. To lose our closeness would be devastating.

I clear my throat and straighten my already tidy desk, convinced I'm out of my mind and Lisa is the same as she's always been. Shoving those thoughts aside, I step to my cubicle opening when a red-headed little girl approaches, followed by a string of other kids. They're all so cute, I can't help but smile down at them.

"Hi, I'm Jennie," I say with a friendly wave. I'm not usually the gregarious, cheery type. Not like Lisa. But it's impossible to keep a sour face with the wide, innocent eyes of this first-grade class staring up at me. "Would you guys like to know a little about what I do here at the paper?"

Nodding their little heads, some even clapping, they give me an audible Yeah! When Miss Fowler gives me the green light, I launch into the spiel I prepared the night before. It's not long, in fact, it only took two minutes to recite from start to finish. But I came up with some follow up questions to ask them and a little assignment they could take home and work on.

"So, what are some exciting things happening in your school that you think you could report on?" I ask, kneeling down to their level, excited to hear their answers.

The little redhead immediately pipes up. "Our gym teacher, Mr. Vlasik, got hit in the head with a dodge ball by Billy Brooks!" Her eyes grow wide during the tale. "And he had to go to the hos-i-ble because he kept falling over! They took him in an am-ba-lence!"

My gaze lifts to Miss Fowler, who winces. "I see. That definitely sounds newsworthy." I straighten and run a hand down the front of my top. "What about something good? Is there anything you could report on that would make people happy to hear about?"

I scan the hands that immediately go up through the small group. "Yes, how about you," I say, pointing to a boy with a buzzed head.

"The lunch ladies started giving us chocolate milk this year. That makes me happy." He shrugs his little beefy shoulders and I smile.

"Oh, that does sound like good news."

After I finish my questions and tell the kids to come up with their own mini articles and turn them in to Miss Fowler for me to read, she thanks me for my time. "You and that tall drink of water beside you were the most entertaining so far," she whispers, leaning close. At the words tall drink of water, her eyes drift to Lisa's cubicle.

I suppress a grin. "Well, I appreciate that, Miss Fowler. And don't forget, when you're done touring the office, I'll have refreshments set up in the break room." I explain where that is and wave goodbye to the kiddos for now.

I'm so caught up in the warm, fuzzy feels that talking to them gave me, I don't even notice Lisa standing off to my left until she nudges me in the ribs with her sword finger.

I jump and turn toward her. "She said we were the most entertaining!" I whisper-squeal as I clasp my hands under my chin. "Maybe she'll tell Stefan and he'll be impressed with our effort."

Lisa's brow lowers, telling me she didn't quite catch everything I said. Must have been the whisper-squeal. I repeat myself through sign and when understanding dawns, she responds, If the way you handled those kids doesn't impress him, I don't know what will. The sincerity in her eyes warms me all the way through to my toes.

"You were watching?"

She nods, a big grin blooming on her face. I was and you were amazing. I couldn't take my eyes off you. Lisa's lids lower the slightest bit and I'm almost positive her eyes drop to my mouth. It's not unusual for her to stare at my mouth. It's how she's able to piece together what I say through my broken Sign Language, but the look in her eyes is different—more heated and hazy.

My lips automatically part under the imagined attention, and for the first time ever, I wonder what it would be like to kiss Lisa Manoban.

Realizing the ridiculous turn of my thoughts, I take a quick step back and run a hand through my hair. "I…uh…need to go and get the cookies and drinks ready."

Want my help? She asks, oblivious to my inner freak out.

"Uh, no!" I wince at my too quick response. "That's okay," I try again. "I'm just gonna pour some lemonade and set out the cookies. No biggie." I spin on my heel before I can see her reaction and hustle to the break room.

Maybe it's all in my imagination, but it feels like something charged and electric happened between us, and I was not prepared for the way my thoughts betrayed me. Lisa is my friend, my co-worker. Nothing more. Maybe if I repeat that mantra for the rest of the workday, my misguided heart will start to believe it.

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