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I swallow the taste of bile in the back of my throat. ‘I don’t know what youthinkyou saw, but –’
‘He’s been helping you out with the internship, hasn’t he? I saw your presentation for the end of summer talks on your laptop. Is he helping you with that?’
How nosy has she been, exactly? Isn’t she too busy concentrating on her own work to keep such a close eye on what I’m doing all the time?
‘I’m sure if you need some help with your presentation, Lloyd wouldn’t mind taking a look at it,’ I say tentatively. ‘H-how – how is yours going?’
‘He is, isn’t he? He’s been telling you all the right things to do, and now he’s telling you how to do your presentation so you can get a job after you graduate, isn’t he?’
‘No! That’s not –’
Tasha smirks, shifting her stance slightly. Somehow, she manages to look more casual and infinitely more intimidating all at once. Maybe she’s been studying Nadja’s body language, or maybe this is just a natural talent.
‘I really didn’t think you were capable of it, you know, Anna?’
‘Capable of what?’
‘Pretending to be interested in him just to use him to do better at your job. Sleeping your way to the top. Honestly. Good for you. I’m kind of impressed.’
My whole face starts to burn, something raw and angry igniting in my chest when she smirks wider.
‘That’s not – I’m – You’rewrong. That’s not what I’m doing.’
‘Please. We both know you’re not qualified for this internship. I mean, you don’t evendressright for it. You look like some frumpy mum, or something. It’s embarrassing. Especially when you’re barely even nineteen – afirst-year, and not technically even qualified for this internship.’ She pouts, pulling a mocking baby face expression. ‘Did you get Lloyd to pull some strings for you there, too? Or maybe you got your famous mum to do that?’
The blood drains from my face and the breath is snatched from my lungs.
Tasha’s head cocks to one side, triumph glinting in her eyes.
‘I – I didn’t – that’s … You’ve got it wrong, I’m … I’ve …’
I’ve lost the ability to form a whole sentence.
‘Aww, don’t worry, babe. I won’t tell.’ She lays a hand on my arm and squeezes. ‘Mum’sthe word, right?’
I wait for the inevitable blackmail, or some more cruel comments, but none come, and I realize she’s not telling me any of this for any reason other than to one-up me somehow. To stand on my shoulders to make herself look taller. I know we’re different kinds of people, but I always thought we got on okayenough. Or, put up with each other, at least. I didn’t think she’d be this vindictive for no reason other than, I guess, pure spite.
Tasha lets go of me, laughing, and strolls away in the direction of the kitchenette, empty water bottle swinging idly from her fingertip. I stand for a moment before deciding to chase after her, catching her arm to yank her back around in the empty stretch of corridor.
‘Listen, I don’t knowwhatyour problem is, but I earned this internship all by myself. Not with my mum’s help, not with Lloyd’s, not with anybody’s. And for the record, I don’t care if you think my clothes are frumpy and embarrassing, because at least I’m doing a good job. I earned my place here. I’mstillearning it. Just because you’ve been coasting along, don’t take it out on me now you realize it won’t get you a job when you graduate.’
I say it in a last-ditch attempt at self-defence more than any real knowledge of how much of a grafter Tasha actually is when she’s at her desk – but her face pinches and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve.
She snatches her arm away from me and is deathly silent as she whirls around and strides off, leaving me to shuffle back to my desk, shaken and not really sure who won.
Tasha stays out of my way and none of the other interns say anything, so she’s obviously not shared her accusations with anyone. She’s just done it to be spiteful. One of ‘those’ girls, Gina would say.
But the next morning, I should know something’s up.
It’s one of those days. My phone is dead – I fell asleep watching TikToks and never plugged it in to charge – so there’s no alarm to wake me up, only Elaine knocking on my door to check on me because she hasn’t heard me up yet, and she knows I’d normally be out of the flat by now. I drop jam down my white blouse when I scarf down some toast, but I’m still ready in record time and out of the door before Elaine or Louis. And then, to top it off, there’s a delay on the Tube line.
People seem to show up at Arrowmile any time between eight and ten in the morning, but it’s almostnine by the time I’m hurrying towards my desk, ready to apologize to my boss Michaela for being an hour later than usual.
There are papers taped up around the office. They’re tacked to blank stretches of wall and the lockers at the ends of desks, to computer screens where people haven’t shown up yet. They’re print-outs of text and a couple of dark, badly-designed posters so grainy I can’t see what they’re promoting. I wonder what that’s all about – maybe some weird phishing email warning? Maybe a scavenger hunt, some fun team-building activity; I bet the Marketing team would come up with something like that.
Whatever it is, I’ll take a proper look after I’ve logged on and sat down.
There’s someone waiting at my desk, though. More than one someone.People.
