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This is my final chance.
THREE
SOPHIA
Harry’s office smells like stale coffee and old paper. I lean back in the overstuffed armchair he keeps opposite to his desk, toeing a stack of old issues as I wait anxiously for him to hang up the phone. My fingers tap out a rapid tempo against my thigh.
My assignments at Neues Kluvberg, the regional paper where I’m interning this semester, were determined weeks ago.
This meeting means something changed. Or that I messed up and might be getting let go.
Neither is ideal.
Finally, Harry’s call ends.
“Sorry about that.” He pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and takes a sip from the mug next to his keyboard. “Look, you’ve done excellent work here, Sophia.”
“Am I getting let go?” I blurt. That feels like a sentence that’s followed by a but.
Harry shakes his head. “No, no.”
I relax.
“But…”
The tension that just dissipated reappears. My spine straightens, and my shoulders tense.
“You heard about Alex’s accident?”
“Yes.”
Alex Bauer, a jovial forty-something who spearheads the paper’s small Sports section, got into a cycling accident over the weekend.
“Marie said he’ll be fine.”
Marie works as—I’m actually not sure what her official role here is defined as. But she’s beloved, and she knows everyone else’s business at all times. Since I started here at the beginning of the semester, she’s the one who’s helped me navigate photographing for different departments the most.
“He will be. But he broke his wrist and has a nasty sprain in his leg. He’ll have a hard time getting around for a little while.”
“Okay…” I’m not seeing where this is headed. Signing a Get Well Soon card?
Harry sighs. Presses his fingers together so they form a small bridge. “Look…I need you to help Alex cover FC Kluvberg. He’ll still be able to write the articles. All you’ll need to do is take photos from the sidelines. For a few weeks, until his cast is off.”
I blink.
Once.
Twice.
I’m still staring at Harry with his balding hair and his wrinkled button-down. No joking expression in sight.
He’s serious, I decide.
Harry shifts in his chair with a creak. “I know this might be uncomfortable for you, what with your brother and all. But you’re the only photographer we have available. Everyone else is swamped. And you said you were looking for a challenge when you started here.”
That “challenge” wasn’t supposed to include football.
“Harry, I’m not a sports photographer. I’ve never photographed athletes. I’m not…qualified.”
