Chapter 2

Here is the second installment of my lovely NaNo. In this chapter Paige plays laser tag and meets Arrington's gymnastic champion (whose inclusion I regret, but she's needed), and Wellesley is mean for no reason.

Chapter 2

So, what do you think is up with all these costume critters poppin’ up all over the place? Dan here thinks it’s a fad. Like what did you say? Like break dancing.
-Mr. Big, Ultimate Spiderman Issue #10

It was after dark the next evening that I finally got some form of communication about my interview. It came in the form of a text message.
There’s a limo waiting outside. Be inside it within the next two minutes.
Well, that wasn’t sketchy at all. Not one to blindly follow shady orders, I texted back.
How do I know you won’t kill me and cannibalize the body?
The text reply came almost immediately.
I’m not going to force you to do anything. But if you want this job, you’ll get into the limo in the next minute.
I called Ethan.
“What’s up, Paige?” he said.
“I don’t have long,” I said. “I’m going to this interview, and don’t tell mom because it’s probably nothing, but something seems sketchy.”
“Paige, maybe you shouldn’t go,” he said. “You can get a job somewhere else.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I said. “I’m just calling so you’ll know where I am. I’ll keep texting from the interview.”
“Be careful,” he said. “If you get uncomfortable, leave.”
“I will,” I said. “Remember. Don’t mention anything to Mom. Or I’ll have to kill you. I have to go.”
“Good luck,” he said. “If I don’t hear from you for awhile, I’ll call.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Bye.”
I flipped my phone closed, grabbed my purse, and ran downstairs. True to what the text said, there was a big black limo waiting right in front of my dorm. Students passing by were stopping to stare at the behemoth, and I suddenly felt more self-conscious than worried. I peered into the windows, but they were tinted and I couldn’t see anything. Damn. I was heading into this whole thing blind. The more I thought about it, the less I believed that this was the smartest thing I had ever done. Maybe my Mom was right and they were soliciting prostitutes. This could turn ugly very fast.
And yet something - some latent curiosity - made my feet move forward. I had to figure out what this “assistant” job entailed. I had to figure out why they were being so secretive.
That, and I wanted to get my mom off my back about getting a stupid job.
I sighed and braced myself for what I might find as I opened the door to the limo.
It was a normal limo inside. Well, I had never actually been inside a limo, but it looked like what I had been led to believe the inside of limos looked like on television. I could only see the back and part of the side of my driver’s face. To my disappointment, he didn’t look like Morgan Freeman.
“Howdy, Hoke,” I said.
“Get in the limo,” he said. “The ride will take about fifteen minutes.”
“Not until you tell me where we’re going, buddy,” I said.
“I can’t tell you that, Miss Parker,” he said. “Get in the limo, unless you want to skip the whole thing altogether.”
That was a very attractive possibility at this point. But my stupid, persistent curiosity wouldn’t let me. Even though I found it very unsettling that they knew my cell phone number and my name. Well, I guess I told the guy on the phone that my name was Paige Parker, but I wasn’t expecting the chauffeur to know what my name was.
I slid into the backseat and looked around at my surroundings. The limo pulled away from the curb.
“Any chance of there being a minibar in this joint?” I asked.
“Do you usually go to job interviews while intoxicated?” the driver asked.
“I’m thinking I’m going to need it for this one,” I said.
“Side panel,” the driver said laconically. I leaned forward and pulled open a little door at the side of the limo. Inside were a few Diet Pepsis.
“Dude, there’s just Diet,” I said. “I asked if there was booze.”
“You asked if there was a minibar, which there is,” he said. “You asked nothing about what was inside it.”
“I guess that’s true,” I admitted. “Touché. But still. Dude. Diet. It’s not even real Pepsi.”
“The boss prefers Diet,” he said. “She likes the taste of aspartame.”
I pulled out a Diet Pepsi and flipped open the top, taking a swig. The limo hit a bump and I dribbled some of the brown liquid onto myself. Lovely. Just what I needed while heading to a job interview. I set the can in the cupholder. I didn’t feel like tempting fate by holding the can in my hand anymore.
There was nothing to do and I could tell the driver didn’t feel like chatting so I stared out the window. The tint of the windows made it difficult to make anything out, especially since it was dark outside. I gave up and stared into space for awhile. True to the driver’s word, after about fifteen minutes we stopped.
“You get out here,” he said. “Go into the house. Someone will tell you what to do from there.”
“Okey dokey,” I said. I stepped out and looked around. I was in front of a very large mansion-type house. I wasn’t sure how large the grounds were, but I could hardly see the lights of the city from where I was. Limos were driving up, dropping off girls, and driving around the house. I couldn’t believe that whoever this mysterious “boss” was, that they would send out one limo for each girl. What happened to being green?
I walked up the path to the house and stood outside the door, hesitant to go inside. Should I ring the bell? Should I just go inside? Another girl walked up behind me. She looked a little younger than me, with thick blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“Sup?” I said, nodding at her.
“Are you going inside?” she asked.
“Uh huh,” I said, unwilling to let on that I was feeling a little scared of the whole thing. I reached out and pressed the doorbell. I could hear the echoes of the ding sound reverberating throughout the house, and then the door was opened by an honest to God butler. He wasn’t what TV had led me to expect - old, silver hair, cultured demeanour. He was young, probably in his thirties, with dark, slicked back hair in a Bela Lugosi-like widow’s peak. He had a thin, bird-like face and dark eyes. He looked down his nose at us with all the condescension and superiority of a sommelier in a fancy restaurant encountering some country bumpkins.
“We’re here for the interview,” I said.
“I know,” he said, stepping back and holding the door open for us. I stepped inside the house.
“Well, excuuuse me, Mr. Belvedere,” I muttered to myself.
“I am Wellesley,” he said to the rest of the group who had snuck in behind me. I felt myself blush when I thought he heard me, but the redness quickly dissipated when I realized he wasn’t speaking to me. “Please help yourself to juice and snacks.”
“What’s going to be happening today?” a girl asked brusquely. An irritated look briefly crossed Wellesley’s face, but it disappeared as quickly as it materialized.
“We have to wait for the rest of the girls to arrive,” he said. “I’ll make an announcement enlightening you as to the proceedings.” I shrugged and headed for the refreshment table. I bit into a doughnut and looked around.
There was no common element to the girls who arrived for the interview, other than the fact that they were fairly young. There were girls on both extremes of the narrow age condition, girls of all shapes, sizes, ethnicities, and hair colour. Everyone was mostly keeping to themselves, probably too nervous about the forthcoming job interview to chat. A girl a little older than me took a doughnut from the table. I nodded at her.
“What’s up?” I said. The girl glanced at me and I couldn’t tell if she was irritated with my forthrightness or glad to have someone to talk to.
“This is so weird, huh?” she asked. “Although not as weird as Lulu Lemon. That place is like a cult.”
“This is definitely the strangest job interview I’ve ever had,” I said. “I mean, limos?”
“The limos freaked me out,” she said. “Reminded me of a hearse, although I’m probably just being morbid.” She pushed her brown bangs out of her eyes. “Don’t you just have this strange feeling of uneasiness? It’s just an interview, but I feel vaguely uncomfortable, or something.”
“I know exactly what you mean!” I exclaimed. “It’s just a job interview, right? I’ve had those before. And yet I somehow feel more apprehensive.”
“I considered just not coming,” she said. “When I got that text message about the limo picking me up?” She said the sentence with a Valley Girl inflection, as if it were a question instead of a statement. “But I was way too curious, and it felt like there was something else drawing me in.”
“It was my curiosity that wouldn’t let me ignore it,” I said. “I told my mom about the interview. She’s worried that it’s some kind of prostitution ring recruiting process.”
“Hey, you go to Arrington U, right?” she said suddenly. “I think you’re in one of my classes.”
“Oh, right,” I said, as if I remembered her, even though I had no idea who she was. “Yeah, totally.” I hoped that if I remained noncommittal, she wouldn’t realize that I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Did you see Hurricane at the school yesterday? He’s so hot,” she said, smiling like a little schoolgirl. “I wonder if he has a girlfriend.”
“Um, I was at the confrontation,” I said. “It was pretty weird.”
“Was it scary? I heard that Hurricane broke the guy’s leg!” she said excitedly, leaning in to get the thrilling first person report that she was sure was forthcoming.
“No, Hurricane just tried to talk the guy down,” I said. “Obsidian…you know, that new superhero guy? Obsidian punched the guy in the face and then the cops came. It wasn’t that exciting.”
“Obsidian?” she asked, confused. “Who’s he?”
“Oh, I don’t really know,” I said. “I think he’s teaming up with Hurricane in some sort of Justice League dealio. Pretty weird, considering Hurricane’s rogues gallery is nothing he can’t handle. As far as cities go, Arrington is pretty boring.”
“How do you know all this?” she asked. I suddenly had the strange feeling that I shouldn’t reveal that I had been talking face to face with Obsidian.
“Um…” I said intelligently. “It’s just what I’ve heard…” She didn’t appear to hear me.
“Hey, that butler dude looks like he’s going to talk!” she said excitedly. I turned around to face Wellesley.
“Each of you will have a pre-interview with me,” he explained. “I’ll be calling you up in alphabetical order. If you meet the criteria, you’ll advance. If not, you go home.”
“Hey, Passepartout!” I called. Wellesley slowly turned to look at me, not even bothering to hide his disgust.
“My name is Wellesley,” he said.
“What criteria?” I asked, ignoring his correction.
“What are you talking about?” he sniffed.
“You said if we don’t meet the criteria, we go home. What criteria? In the ad, it just said we had to be a certain age.”
“Criteria that my employer has impressed upon me is of the utmost importance,” he said.
“But isn’t that kind of unfair?” I said. “We only thought we had to be a certain age, and then BAM, the interviewer wants us to type 100 words per minute? Why even waste our time if we don’t meet some secret criteria? I could be doing other things. I have a life, you know.”
“Can I just say that I hope you don’t meet the criteria?” Wellesley simply said in reply.
“Well, that’s rude,” I said, although I wasn’t really that offended by a dandy who didn’t like me. “I think just to mess with you, I’m going to get the job. How do you like that?” Wellesley had already shut me out and was answering another girl’s question. I was secretly glad that he didn’t hear my lame comeback.
Wellesley disappeared into a little room, a girl following him. I grabbed another doughnut and stuffed it into my mouth. I could tell that it was going to be a pretty long wait until he got to the Ps, and from what I could tell of this guy, he was probably going to skip “Parker” altogether.
Wellesley closed the door behind him and I wandered over, hoping to catch snippets of the interview. Maybe I could prepare myself. I grabbed one of the glasses that had been provided for our juice needs and put it against the door, pressing my ear against the other end.
“…Cheated on an exam?” I heard.
“I never cheat,” the girl replied.
“Do you have any martial arts experience?”
“No,” she said.
“Well, Tara, I’m afraid I’ll have to send you home. Thank you for coming,” Wellesley said. I tried to run away before the door opened, but Wellesley opened the door with my ear still against it. I stumbled a little and then straightened, putting the glass behind my back. The girl looked surprised, Wellesley looked pissed.
“Um…” I said, trying to think quickly. “I was…just…I got nothing.”
“Is ‘waiting your turn’ an unheard of concept for you?” Wellesley asked.
“I was just trying to get a heads up on what was going to happen,” I said. “I get it. I’ll go back to eating doughnuts now.” I wandered back to the refreshment table. The girls were mostly avoiding the doughnuts for some reason, preferring to stand around alone, not speaking to anyone. I didn’t care. More doughnuts for me, and they were delicious.
One by one, Wellesley called girls into the little room. If they were okay, they came out and waited with the rest of us. If they weren’t acceptable, Wellesley whispered something to them, made them look at something that I couldn’t quite make out, and they went straight out the door without looking back.
“Parker,” Wellesley called, bored after probably close to twenty-five interviews. I turned around, smiled, and waved. Even from across the room, I could see his eyes rolling so hard it probably hurt. He disappeared back into the room, not even bothering to maintain a modicum of courtesy around me. I didn’t usually rub people the wrong way in such a short time. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
I stepped into the little room, which was barely big enough to hold a desk and two chairs. Wellesley sat down behind the desk and I sat down across from him without waiting for an invitation, turning the chair in slow circles. Wellesley sighed, barely audible.
“So Jeeves, let’s get this over with,” I said, slouching low in the chair and twirling it again. I thought that it was probably a good idea to stop making fun of him with butler names - my repertoire was small, and if I kept going at this rate, I was going to run out.
“Or you could just leave,” Wellesley said hopefully.
“And give you the satisfaction?” I said, spinning around again. “Nah, Wellesley, I think I want to stay a little longer and hang out with you.”
“First question: How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” I said.
“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” he said.
“Well, I’m a Virgo,” I said. “I like chocolate, roses, and long walks on the beach.” I could tell Wellesley was clenching his teeth to keep from replying harshly. “Careful, dude. If you keep grinding your teeth, you could end up with gum recession, and no one wants that.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Wellesley said.
“What’s to say?” I said. “I’m a nineteen-year-old living with two roommates. I was born and raised in Arrington. I enjoy the music of Tom Waits?”
“Have you ever cheated on a test?” he asked.
“No!” I exclaimed. “Wait, yes. Eighth grade. Photos class. We had to do a quiz on the parts of the camera. Someone in my group obtained a copy of the answers. I wrote them on my leg and then pretended I was scratching my leg. It was all very secret agent-y.”
“Do you have any martial arts training?” he asked.
“Wait, what? Martial arts?” I asked. “Just what exactly kind of skulduggery are you planning here?”
“Just answer the question,” Wellesley said.
“No, I don’t know any martial arts!” I exclaimed. “What a strange question. What kind of job am I applying for?”
“You’ll find all that out soon enough,” Wellesley said vaguely. “Do you have any skills to speak of?”
“Just my sparkling wit,” I said. “What’s going on here?”
“Just because you repeatedly ask, doesn’t mean I’ll suddenly break down and answer,” Wellesley said.
“Doesn’t hurt to try,” I said, putting my hands behind my head and twirling around again.
“I’ll be honest with you,” Wellesley said. “I don’t particularly like you, and you seem incredibly ill-suited to the job offered. I’m going to have to send y-” He stopped mid-sentence, cocked his head slightly, and appeared to be listening. Closer inspection revealed that he had a tiny earpiece and someone was talking to him through it. Our mysterious boss, perhaps?
A pained look crossed Wellesley’s face and he sighed.
“She wants you to stay,” he said, spitting out the words as if they tasted bitter. I brightened.
“Sweet! So I’ve charmed her, huh? Doesn’t take much,” I said.
“Don’t kid yourself,” Wellesley said.
“Oh, Wellesley,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to me in time.”
“There won’t be any time,” he said. “You’re not getting this job.” I bristled. I wasn’t usually ambitious about anything, but Wellesley’s complete conviction that I wasn’t good enough, his condescension, and his pretension were starting to rankle. I maintained my façade of good cheer, since that seemed to annoy him more than anything else I could have done.
“We’ll see, Wellesley,” I said, getting up under the assumption that the pre-interview was over. “You’ll learn to love me.”
“Doubtful,” he said. “Go out and wait with the others. The next part of the interview will be starting shortly.”
“Thanks, buddy!” I said, just to mess with him. I winked and gave him finger guns as I left. Predictably, he rolled his eyes. It was way too much fun bugging him. I went back out into the big room. The number of girls had been cut almost in half. I wondered what the rigorous criteria were; I didn’t think I had been particularly impressive in my pre-interview with Wellesley. The girl before me seemed like a prime candidate for a job: she seemed like a goody-goody and she maintained that she never cheated. So why did she go home? What exactly was going on here? Alarm bells were ringing in my head, but they were the kind of alarm bells that weren’t that loud and you ignored in their repetitiveness. And they were alarm bells that were outweighed by my curiosity.
There were only about three girls after me, and their interviews didn’t take long - two girls were sent home, and one rejoined the rest of us. Wellesley looked out at us and he didn’t even have to speak, but he got our attention immediately. A portion of the wall slid up behind him, revealing a darkened and slightly sketchy looking room. I glanced at the other girls, who all looked a little uneasy.
“Follow me,” he said. No one moved. I glanced around and stepped forward. Wellesley glanced at me.
“Figures it would be you,” he said.
“Don’t pretend you’re not happy about it!” I joked. I looked behind me. At my movement the other girls evidently recovered and followed me into the room.
Black vests with holstered plastic guns lined the walls.
“Put on a vest,” he said.
“Are you serious?” I said in disbelief. “We’re playing laser tag?” I recognized the vests immediately from a school trip to play laser tag.
“That’s what she wants,” Wellesley said. If we were competing for a job through laser tag, I was screwed. We played three games and I came in dead last each and every time. A worse shot than me never lived. Clearly, I was going to have to use some form of deception to win this challenge. As we started pulling the vests over our heads, Wellesley explained the game.
“I’m assuming you all know how to play laser tag,” Wellesley said. He picked up a gun. “Just point and shoot.”
“That’s what she said!” I burst out before I could stop myself. There were a few snickers from the girls. Wellesley narrowed his eyes at me.
“Loosen up a little, Alfred!” I said, picking up the gun and pulling the trigger experimentally.
“Can I talk, now?” he snapped.
“Go ahead,” I said. More snickers. Wellesley was visibly trying hard to maintain his composure.
“The rules are simple. Somewhere in the adjoining room is a secret door leading to the next part of the test. You have to find it before anyone else does. You can get shot ten times. After that, your gun deactivates and your vest gives off a signal for security to come get you and escort you out. Is everyone ready?” There were murmurs of assent. “Okay, then.” He opened the door and gestured us all through.
Obviously, if I had to rely on my own talent, I would be escorted out within the first five minutes. I needed to be sneaky. I looked around to make sure I wasn’t being watched. I could only see a girl maundering past me, but everyone else had run out of sight immediately. I shrugged off my vest and dropped it to the ground, kicking it into a dark corner. If we could only be shot ten times, I wouldn’t give them an opportunity to shoot me in the first place. I decided to keep the gun, but I wasn’t sure why. I had the shooting ability of a Stormtrooper and it wasn’t like I needed the gun to do some pistol whipping or something.
Now to find the secret passage to the next part of the test. It was most likely to be in the walls somewhere. I started to walk around the perimeter of the room, running my hands along the walls, feeling for a fissure or button or something. Why would someone design their house like this? All secret portals and slidey doors. And a laser tag arena. Laser tag. In your house. What kind of person was this mysterious woman?
A girl clipped me as she ran past.
“Watch where you’re going!” I complained, rubbing my arm. I couldn’t see or feel anything that conceivably could have been a secret passage or whatever. Nothing. I did another perimeter of the room in the other direction. Nothing again. I wasn’t sure why I was expecting anything different. I sighed and leaned against the wall. Obviously, there was something that I was missing. And then I saw it. In front of me was a manhole in the floor. Why would there be a manhole inside? Unless it led somewhere else.
I glanced around but everyone else was otherwise occupied. I pried the lid of the manhole up with my fingernails and pushed it to the side. I couldn’t see anything except the top of a ladder. This had to be it. I glanced around again, paranoid that someone would come up behind me and figure out what I was doing. I started to climb down the ladder. I reached up to pull the manhole cover over top of me but before I could, someone stepped on my fingers.
“Ow!” I exclaimed. A girl was peering down at me, hands on her hips.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said, hoping she was dumb enough to not ask questions but knowing she probably wasn’t.
“You found the passage!” she exclaimed.
“I…um…no I didn’t!” I said.
“Let me down,” she demanded.
“Go find your own secret passage!” I said.
“There’s only one,” she hissed. She crouched down. “Would you rather I stayed up here talking to you so that others found the passage as well? Or would you rather just compete against me?”
“You make a good point,” I admitted. “Come on.” I started my descent down the ladder and the girl followed. The rung scraped some mud off her shoe which landed on my head.
“Do you mind?” I hissed. “I don’t appreciate getting mud on my head.”
“I can’t control what my shoes do!” she protested.
“You can control what your legs do!” I snapped. I reached the bottom and jumped lightly to the ground. The girl was not far behind.
There was a pool in the middle of the floor, about as big as your basic public pool. Far from being blue and clear, the water was stagnant and it looked rank with algae. Hanging over the pool was a series of knotted ropes and vertical nets. There was a door on the other side and something I could dimly make out as a key hanging next to the knob.
“What the hell?” Closer inspection of the first rope revealed a white envelope attached to it. I walked over to the edge of the pool and leaned forward, plucking the envelope off the rope. The girl walked up behind me as I ripped open the envelope. Inside was a small white card, and written on it was once sentence in graceful cursive: Cross the pool without getting wet.
“That’s nothing,” the girl said. “I’m Ella Parsons!” She looked at me expectantly.
“Huh?” I said.
“Ella Parsons,” she said. “Gymnastics champion of Arrington. I’ve all over this. Too bad about you though.” She leaped lightly and grabbed the first rope. She started swinging, trying to get more momentum to reach the first hanging net.
There was no way I was going to swing like a monkey across that pool. My arms would get tired and I would fall in within the first minute; I knew that for sure. Hmm.
Ella had advanced from the first net to the second rope. I didn’t have much longer to deliberate if I was going to beat her to the next challenge. I didn’t stop to think. I took off my blazer and dropped it to the floor. I kicked off my shoes and quickly tied the laces in a knot, wrapping it around my wrist. I had the feeling I would need my shoes later. I dipped a finger in the water. It was cold and gross, and I didn’t relish what I knew I had to do. I looked up. Ella was almost across. I jumped into the water. Ella looked back at the sudden splash.
“What are you doing, you idiot?” she demanded. “The note said not to touch the water! You just screwed yourself over!”
“Do you always do what you’re told?” I said, starting to swim.
“You’re a dumbass,” she said. “You won’t get a job if you don’t follow instructions.”
“Look, we need to get across the pool. I’m taking the most efficient route.” At this point I had almost overtaken her. She glared at me and upped her speed. I did the same. Despite the fact that she knew I was moving faster than she was, she still didn’t give up and start swimming. I reached the end and pulled myself up. I was sopping wet and not very happy.
“You’ll lose, you know,” Ella said. “You touched the water.”
“Oh, shut it,” I said. I took the key and unlocked the door.
“Hey wait-!” she said, jumping to the other side of the pool. I smiled, waved, and locked the door behind me, blocking out her furious face.