Page 63 of Guarded from Sabotage

Taking her outstretched hand, I reply, “I’m Sarah Pearce. Thanks for having me. I’m really excited to talk about the job.”

Once Julie releases my hand, she gestures for me to follow her. “Come. We’ll have a chat in my office.” As we walk down the hallway, past several closed doors, she adds, “It’s quiet heretoday. I have two people in court, and two more making house calls. And another out sick with the same thing the receptionist has.”

We stop at a door at the end of the hallway, and she turns to me. “We’re in desperate need of another social worker. And with your qualifications… We’ll have to talk, of course, but I think you could be a great fit here.”

Optimism flares, warming my chest. “I really enjoy working with kids. And the program you have here sounds interesting.”

“It is,” Julie replies as she opens the door. “We’re pretty new, only been open for six months, but our benefactors feel strongly about our mission.”

As we walk into the office—another bare-bones room, like the rest of the place—she makes a small,tsking sound. “Shoot. I just realized I left all the interview paperwork in the copy room. Take a seat—” She waves at one of the chairs facing a small wooden desk. “I’ll be right back.”

She pulls the door closed behind her as she leaves the room, which seems a little odd since there’s no one else here. But then again, she’s probably used to keeping doors closed for confidentiality. At my last job, I tended to leave my door open when I wasn’t seeing clients, but there were other people I worked with who preferred the privacy.

After a couple of minutes go by and she’s still not back, I start to get a little antsy. Sitting still with nothing to do, it’s harder to keep my nerves at bay. The worries I’ve been trying to ignore—is it really safe, what if Ivan gets out, what if he gets access to a computer—make an unwelcome reappearance.

Stop.It’s fine. Ivan is in jail. He can’t get out. He’s not allowed near a computer. He can’t hurt me anymore.

But still, sitting here in this austere office with nothing to distract me, it’s really hard to not let my anxiety get to me. I could take out my phone, but if Julie comes in, I’d rather her notsee me playing on my phone during an interview. So I decide on my old standby, box-breathing, to help me calm down.

And after a minute of it, I feel better. My stomach isn’t as jittery. My hands don’t feel as trembly.

It’s okay. I’m fine. She probably left the papers somewhere else, and she’s looking for them. She’ll be back any minute.

Except. Do I want to work for someone this disorganized? Someone who’d leave a prospective employee waiting alone in their office? I’m not sure. But it’s like my dad told me, the interview goes both ways. This is my opportunity to find out about this place. To see if I want to work here.

At this point, the jury’s still out.

After another couple minutes on my own, I’m having serious doubts about working here. Which is fine; I have two more interviews lined up, and there are plenty more places to look. So I’ll just get through this interview, go home and text Dante about it, and get ready for the next one.

Maybe I’ll text him now. Does it matter if Julie walks in and sees me?

But when I reach down to grab my phone from my purse, my head starts spinning. And when I sit back up, my vision blurs.

What?

I take a deep breath, hoping to clear my head, but it only gets worse.

Now it feels like the room is moving, and I’m sitting still.

My stomach lurches, like I just got off a crazy roller coaster.

Something isn’t right.

My thoughts are scattering.

Could it be carbon… monoxide? Dioxide? Which is it?

If it’s that, I need to get out.

Shoving myself up from the chair, I almost fall on my face before I catch myself.

Oh, shit.

I lunge for the door, but the doorknob won’t work.

Turning around, a wave of dizziness knocks me to my knees. Scrambling up, I rush to the lone window, though it feels like I’m moving in slow motion.

It won’t open.

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