Page 142 of And Now, Back to You

Features.

Department.

I have to swallow three times before I’m able to pull together a response. “The features team only does their reporting on the Sunday news hour.”

Keith leans back in his chair. His mouth twists in a smug grin. “That’s right.”

I think about my grandpa in his favorite chair, watching his favorite news program. I think about how I won’t be on his screen anymore. The one thing I had to hold on to him, and Keith is taking that away.

“But—” My throat tightens, and I order myself not to cry. Not here. Not where Keith can see. “But I’m a meteorologist.”

“And both Ava and I believe you’ll be better suited reporting on something else.” He lifts his hands, his face twisted in mock apology. “Why waste such talent on something as boring as the weather?”

“The weather isn’t boring,” I say, my voice faint.

Not only is it a demotion and a decrease in airtime, it’s a sharp reminder that Keith can do whatever he wants with my career. It never mattered how well I did on this snowstorm coverage. Keith was always going to find a way to use it against me—good or bad.

“And if I don’t want to work with the features team? If I want to stay where I am?”

Keith’s head tips to the side. “Did you really think there wouldn’t be consequences for you, Delilah? You were caught in a compromising position with a coworker. You made a fool of yourself and this station. You’re lucky you still have a job at all.” He glances at the clock. “A job you’ll be late for if you don’t hustle over to the set. You’re due for your noon report.” He turns back to his computer screen, clearly dismissing me. “I suggest you enjoy it. One last hurrah for the weather girl.”

I want to rage. I want to scream. I want to take the remnants of his Coolatta and hurl it against a wall. If I were braver, maybe I’d have the right words to fight back with. But I’m just a hollow shell, all the things I hold most precious scooped out and dumped on the floor.

“Why?” The loudest I can manage is a whisper. “You’ve always hated me. Why?”

His eyes harden into flint. “Because,” he says, “everyone else loves you.”

I float out of his office without another word, trying desperately not to cry. But it claws up the back of my throat. It burns behind my eyes.

The buzz of the set breaks through some of my fog, making me stumble over a cord stretched across the floor. Production assistants rush past one another, updating notes and typing furiously into the teleprompter. Someone shouts my name, but I barely register it. Everything is muffled and muted. Like cotton over my ears or a bandana over my eyes. I move through it silently, weightless and brimming with a violent, trembling frustration. The very tips of my fingers are cold. My breathing is loud. Choppy.

I’m handed an earpiece and my remote for the green screen. I find my mark and I wait patiently for the handover, staring into the camera. Somewhere out there, my grandfather is watching, and it’s enough to force another crack in my already bruised heart.

Smile, Delilah.

Just for a second.

Smile, Delilah.

But I can’t. I can’t.

“Now over to Delilah for the forecast,” Simone says. She smiles at me from her desk. “Delilah, how’s it looking out there?”

The light on the camera in front of me flickers on. I can see my reflection in the curved glass. I am strokes of purple and chestnut brown. Pale and trembling, my hand still curled around my remote.

Will Keith even let me on the set anymore? Or will I be sanctioned off to my corner of the newsroom, never to be heard from again?

I swallow. “There’s a—there’s a chance of, um, showers on Monday.” Tears blur my vision. Somewhere behind the camera, Gianna appears. She whispers something urgent to Mark and he leans away from his camera, looking down at her. I can’t be bothered. I’m still underwater. “And, uh, on Tuesday—”

My voice drifts. The studio is completely silent. Gianna tries to gesture me off camera, but I know what I need to do.

Things aren’t ever going to change for me here, and I was foolish to think otherwise.

“Breaking news, actually.” I pull my earpiece out and let it dangle against my chest. “I quit.”

AIDEN VALENTINE: Welcome back to Heartstrings, the special afternoon report. Benny is out sick and now you’re stuck with me, Baltimore.

AIDEN VALENTINE: Thanks for calling in. What can I do for you?