Page 35 of Rich and Bossy

This can’t be real.

Is this real?

Am I awake? Am I dreaming?

I know most people’s heroes are pop singers, or actors, or authors, or something like that.

Not me, I’m staring down the barrel of a message from my idol.

I’d pinch myself, but I’m afraid I might wake up. Campbell Page wants to talk to me. Me! She knows I exist.

Compose yourself, please.

Right. Right.

It takes serious effort to keep my hands from shaking too hard to type out my phone number and some non-embarrassing words that make sense to go with it.

I really need a life. Campbell is well-known and all, but she’s a labor leader. Nobody in my life would know who she is.

Then, after I send the message, I have to stop myself from squealing when the phone rings.

“Ho. Lee. Crap.” I press the green phone button and my voice shakes when I answer. “H-hello?”

“Hi, is this Hazel? It’s Campbell Page.”

Yes, it is, I recognize her voice. The confidence in it. She’s so sure of herself. But she’s warm, too. She gives you the sense that you can trust her. At least, that’s how I feel.

“This is Hazel.”

“Hi.”

“Hi, I honestly can’t believe you even read my message, much less that you’re calling.” I’m going to hyperventilate. I’m going to pass out here and now. Mom will come up later and find me flat on the floor.

She laughs softly. “You caught me at a good time. I’m not always that easy to find, but we’re talking about Rapid, right?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to put it out there in the message.”

“That’s smart. You have good instincts. And if this is something you and your coworkers are serious about, you need that level of caution in everything you do.”

Oh, my God, I could die right here and now. I’m so glad she can’t see me—I’m sure my face is bright pink.

“Can you give me some additional information than what I got in the message? More specifics? Why you’re thinking about organizing there?”

“How much time do you have?” I joke, then instantly regret it. Could I be any more lame?

“I have all the time in the world, don’t leave anything out.” Her response is dead serious. “I’ve heard a lot of things in my life, but there’s always something new that surprises me. So lay it all out there.”

Well, she asked for it. I tell her everything, every last detail I can think of.

“Wow.” Even she sounds surprised.

“There was a twenty-car pileup on the Pennsylvania Turnpike last month. Did you hear about that?”

“I saw pics online. The story went national. It looked really bad.”

“One of our trucks was there. The driver came from our facility. Do you know they actually wrote him up for being late on his deliveries and getting back for his next pick up? The wreck was a national story, all over the news. You could see his truck on the camera shots. His GPS proved it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. They really make you wear wrist trackers? Are you allowed to opt out of that?”

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