Page 1 of Fear of Falling

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JOSIE

Tonight, the Toronto Knights are set to play against the Montreal Bears in an attempt to put an end to their six-game losing streak. Despite winning the Cup Championship two years ago, they missed out last year in a nail-biting finale after center Wyatt Boone, tore his ACL during the game. While things looked up for the Knights with the return of their star player this season, Boone’s missing his edge, leaving both critics and fans wondering if he’ll bounce back in time to save their season.

Iwinced as I read the article on my phone. I was one of those hockey fans worrying about the team. It was still early in the season, but six losses in a row was a bitter pill to swallow. Especially when the Knights have three of the best players in the league.

The sound of my name echoing through my office phone speaker pulled me from my thoughts, and I placed my phone face down on my desk.

“Hey, Josie, can I see you in my office for a moment?” My boss, Lydia Ellis, asked.

“I’m on my way,” I replied, hitting save on the document I was working on before I was distracted by my phone. Tucking it into my pocket, I headed down the hall to my boss's office. There was a flurry of last-minute activity across the floor as everyone finished up their work for the day. I’d hoped to do the same, but I had a feeling my boss had other plans. On Friday’s we rarely worked past three o’clock, and as the clock ticked closer, I was more than ready to head home and relax. There was a dull ache forming in my temples and behind my eyes from staring at my computer screen for far too long, and I was in dire need of a glass of wine.

Standing outside my boss’s office, I took a moment to smooth over my clothes before I knocked twice and opened the door. Lydia sat at her desk, her short blonde hair all I could see as she focused on her computer screen, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“You needed me?”

“Yes, come in,” Lydia said with a final tap on the keys before she looked up with a smile and leaned back in her chair. “How’s the latest article coming along?” she asked, gesturing towards the chair opposite her desk.

“It’s going well. I should have it done by Tuesday and ready for this month's edition,” I returned her smile as I sat.

Working atFusion Weekly Magazinewas my dream job. When I graduated from university with a degree in English and Photography, I thought I’d be lucky just to find a job at all. Finding one I loved still seemed like a pipe-dream. I spent months applying for jobs, gradually moving away from anything even remotely related to my degree, settling for odd jobs just to pay my rent.

I was juggling shifts between a local pizzeria and a fashion retailer when Lydia found me. In the midst of all my applications, one of her colleagues passed my resume on to her,thinking I’d be a better fit for what she was looking for. She must have seen something she liked because she came to the pizzeria and waited patiently until my break. I stank of pizza and sure as hell didn’t look like I belonged in an office, yet, after a quick chat, Lydia offered me a job at the magazine she was kick-starting.

Fusion Weeklywas a mix between a magazine and a newspaper, hence the name. Our specialty was showcasing everything from local hot spots to keeping the city in the loop with upcoming events. I finally got to do what I enjoyed the most, taking photographs of food and people enjoying local events, concerts and sporting matches, and accompanying them with entertaining articles. All while getting paid. The cherry-on-top was the fact that Lydia had become one of my closest friends. I was living the dream. My dream.

“So…” By Lydia’s tone, I knew I wasn’t going home anytime soon, and I fought back the urge to groan. “I just received a last-minute request to send someone to cover a local football team that’s made it to the state championships.”

“And you said I would do it,” I finished for her. Her sheepish grin gave the answer away.

“Why me?” I could hear the whine creeping into my voice as the thought of that glass of wine drifted further from my grasp. I’d already spent the whole week following a local charity group as they planned their annual fund-raising event, taking photos and talking to various members. Then there was my usual workload of editing, writing blogs and my usual array of articles.

“Look, I know you’ve already had a full week, but I can trust you to do a great job even though it’s Friday afternoon. Besides,” she leaned on her desk, her eyes pleading. “They promised it would only take an hour. Tops. You take the best pictures of anyone here at the officeandI’ll pay you overtime.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re trying to sweet talk me into this.”

Lydia grinned. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

Lydia rested her chin on her hands. “Did I say you’re the best reporter and photographer I have? That I would be lost without you?” This time I gave in and groaned aloud. As both my boss, and my best friend, she knew exactly how to get me to say yes. Being a people pleaser was a real bitch sometimes.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” I mumbled, and I thought if Lydia’s smile grew any wider her face would crack.

“You’re a lifesaver, Josie.” Relief flashed in her eyes before she tapped on her keyboard once more, resulting in a ping from my phone. “There. I’ve just emailed you the details. Just take some pictures and ask the boys how they feel about making it to the championship. Get a statement from the Coach–you know, the heart-felt, inspirational stuff. Then you’re done for the week. You can leave writing the article for Monday.”

I nodded absently, already reviewing the details of her email on my phone. At least it wasn’t that far from the office, and the assignment seemed straight-forward enough. I thought I’d easily knock it out in an hour if not less.

“I guess I’d better get going then, but you owe me one,” I said as I stood and headed for the door.

“Yeah, yeah, add it to the list. Text me when you are done. Let me know if you want to hangout this weekend.”

I waved over my shoulder as I stepped out of her office, closing the door behind me. The floor was almost empty as I returned to my desk to gather my camera and handbag. The sooner I got to the football field, the sooner I could get home and relax.

“Just a little more to your right,”I called out. “No, your other right.”

I struggled to contain my frustration, sweeping my hair back from my face as the footballers jostled each other, not listening to a word I said. We were thirty-five minutes in, and I’d finally managed to get them all into position for the team photo. I hadn’t expected to find it so challenging to fit forty-odd teenagers into a single frame, not to mention get them to hold their positions long enough for me to take the picture. I thought footballers were supposed to be disciplined, but this lot didn’t take direction well.

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