Page 20 of Brood
If I don’t improve my performance, she says in her primmest tone, then she’ll have no choice but to demote me to packager and let someone more mature and competent be our head taster.
She gives me this lecture in front of the entire kitchen. It takes every ounce of control I possess not to argue or defend myself. That doesn’t work with her. I’ve tried it more than once, and it only makes the situation worse. So I take it. I swallow it down with as blank an expression as I can manage.
Instead of going to the Meadow for my midmorning break, I hurry back to our quarters and throw myself on my bed so I can cry.
I do have sense enough to check the time, but it’s right in the middle of Will’s exercise hour. He won’t be back here to shower for at least thirty minutes. I’ll be better and gone by then.
I’ve been bawling into my pillow for only a couple of minutes when a voice startles me so much, I jump.
“What the hell, Cadence?”
I sit up, wiping at my eyes and my runny nose. The shock has distracted me from my distress, and my heart is racing with nerves. “You’re back early.”
“I pulled a muscle in my shoulder,” he says, taking a few long steps to stand next to my bed. “What’s wrong?” I get no more than a first consonant sound out when he talks over me grumpily: “Don’t tell me it’s nothing. You’ve been crying.”
“It’s not a big deal. I just got upset and needed to cry.” I pause to choose the words to explain the reason to him.
He assumes the hesitation means I’m not going to continue because he bites out, “Tell me why. Right now.”
I gulp at his tone. It makes me jittery in the same way I felt last night when he carried me to my bed. “It’s…it’s hard getting used to a new supervisor.”
His glower softens slightly. “You’re crying about work?”
“Yes.” I move so my legs are hanging over the side of the bed and straighten my shoulders. “It will be fine. I’ll get used to it. But she’s…she’s not Vanessa.”
I hear him take a ragged breath.
“And she doesn’t seem to…to like me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she’s always picking on me. I’m not imagining it. Everyone else has noticed too. She singles me out for criticism, and then she tells me how terrible I am at everything in front of the entire kitchen.” I sigh and rub my face. “I try not to be a complainer, but it’s hard. Having a new supervisor is hard enough, but when she dislikes me so pointedly, it’s even harder. I’m not used to…”
He’s been listening. I know it even though his expression hasn’t changed. When I trail off, he prompts, “You’re not used to what?”
“I’ve always done a good job at any work I’ve been given. Vanessa would sometimes correct me, but she always indicated I was good at what I do. I’m not used to this.” I drop my eyes. “I shouldn’t complain.”
“It sounds like you have reason to complain in this instance.”
“Maybe.” I let out a long exhale, and for some reason, it tightens my throat. A tear slips down one cheek. “I miss Vanessa.”
Will doesn’t answer. But he meets my gaze when I raise my eyes. He gives a brief, jerky nod. Then he strides into the bathroom.
By the time he comes out, I’ve pulled myself together. I watch as he unbuttons his shirt and pulls out one arm. He sits on his bed and uncaps the tube he brought out.
It’s some sort of muscle rub, I realize, as he puts some on his hand and reaches over his left shoulder to rub it in. He strains to reach the spot that’s hurt. His face twists briefly.
“Here,” I say, standing without thinking through the impulse. “I’ll get it for you.”
He grows still.
“Do you want me to do it?” I ask him in a different tone.
He doesn’t answer with words, but he hands me the tube. I squeeze out a dollop. It smells minty. Strong. When Will readjusts his body on the bed, I can reach the back of his left shoulder. With my empty hand, I feel his shoulder blade. “Here?”
“A little higher and to the left.”
I move my fingertips.
