“Beep” “Beep” “BEEEEEP”

I let out a sigh as my eyes slowly drift open. I look up and see the sun peeking through my window blinds. I slowly lift my head to glance at the clock. Oh no I’m late!

“KATIE,” I yell as I run down the stairs.

In the kitchen I see my best friend making some waffles. “Good morning,” she says with a cheery smile.

“I’m late!” I announce in panic.

“Late for what,” she asks, her face starting to look confused.

“Late for my flight! I have to go to New York today. For the job interview? Does that ring a bell?” I snap.

I run back up the stairs and shove my clothes in my suitcase. I haven't even finished packing yet.

“Oh yeah,” Katie says with a smile, as she follows me to my room. “When did Nate say he would get here? 8:30 right?”

“Yes! The flight is at 10:00! Oh no! I can’t be late for this,” I sigh.

“Well, I told you we should drive to New York. It’s not that far from here in Connecticut. It would have been a fun road trip!” she says with a “know-it-all” look on her face.

I roll my eyes and head back downstairs, finally giving in to my waffle craving.

A few minutes later I hear a knock. The door swings open and our friend, Nate walks in. “Ready to go?” he asks.

“Yup,” I say.

Nate takes my bags and starts loading them into the car. I’m about to follow him when Katie gives me a big hug. “You are gonna do great at your interview, V. Don’t worry. Any good writer would want to publish your work!” She smiles encouragingly.

“I know,” I say. “But this is the New York Times!”

“Yeah! The New York Times would only dream of publishing an article written by you! You're gonna kill it don’t worry,” Katie exclaims, as she waves us off.

Nate and I finally reach the airport and go to find our gate. “Wait this can’t be right,” Nate says.

“What happened?” I ask.

“It says the flight is delayed to 12 p.m., something about them needing more time to get the plane ready,” Nate answers.

“What no! My interview is at 1, there’s no way I’ll make it in time” I yell.

I can feel my heartbeat fast. I look around and see other people rolling their eyes and arguing about the time change. How else can I get to New York?

As if he was reading my mind Nate says, “What if we take the train? I’m sure if we run we can catch the one at 10:30.”

Instantly, we dart out of the airport and back to the car. Luckily, the train station isn’t too far away. When we reach, we see people already boarding the train. “Wait!” we yell as we sprint across the parking lot, hauling our bags.

“We need two tickets to New York please,” I say, catching my breath.

“Hmm, I’m sorry, we’re completely booked,” the conductor says.

I sigh and look at Nate. What now?

“Oh wait, here. I have one ticket,” the conductor exclaims.

“Only one ticket,” I say.

“Go,” Nate says quickly before I can object. “Don’t worry I know you’ll do great. I’ll see you when you get back, good luck.”

I hesitantly nod and without turning back board the train.

After several hours of waiting and overthinking, I finally reach New York. I don’t have time to stop at my hotel, so I go right to the office. The city is bigger than I imagined and it takes me a while to figure out where I’m going. The roads are flooded with cars and people. The sound of people chatting and cars honking fills the air. I take a deep breath and get in a taxi. “620 Eighth Avenue Manhattan,” I tell the driver.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me I have only eaten waffles today. I ignore it and open my bag, reviewing my writing one last time.

I’m still staring at my article when the driver says, “We’re here.”

I gasp and look up. My mouth falls open when I see the 1,000-foot-tall building. The windows are glass and “New York Times” is written in big letters across the middle.

“Hello, miss!” the driver says, looking impatient.

“Oh!” I gasp, realizing I’m still sitting in the car.

I can’t help but smile as I gather my bags and head to the entrance. I remember when I first decided I wanted to be a writer. It was the end of 9th grade and I had spent the whole year journaling about little events that happened each day. I wanted to write about something even more important, like an incredible news story that makes its way all across the world.

I get in the elevator and head to my floor. I instantly get a whiff of strong coffee. I see a lady at the front desk and walk up to her. “Hi! How are you,” I exclaim, cheerfully. She continues typing on her computer as if she didn’t hear me. “I’m here to see Mr. Brown. I have a meeting with him at 1:00,” I say, still forcing myself to smile.

She glances up slightly and says, “Have a seat, Mr. Brown will come when he is ready.”

“Thank you,” I say with a sigh and walk over to the chairs. I sit down and prepare what I’m going to say in my head. A few girls walk by, I assume they work here. I smile kindly when I see them smile. They walk away snickering and rolling their eyes. I’m about to say something when a tall man with short dark hair walks in. He’s wearing a suit and is carrying a stack of papers. He walks over to the women at the desks and says something to her. The lady looks up and motions for me to come over.

“Mr. Brown this is uh-umm,” she begins to say.

“I’m Vanessa! Hi, it's nice to meet you,” I interrupt.

Mr. Brown smiles politely, “Yes, a pleasure to meet you. Follow me to my office.”

His office is medium-sized and has a large window on the side, looking out into the city. His desk is big but tidy. It has a big computer and a nameplate that says “Joseph Brown Editor, NYT.” Behind his desk are a bunch of shelves filled with papers. “Have a seat,” he says, motioning for me to sit at the chair in front of his desk.

As we sit down he says, “Can I see a copy of your article?”

“Of course, it’s right here,” I say. I look around in my bag, but can’t find it.

Mr. Brown taps his fingers on his desk and smiles impatiently.

“Umm, I must have left it on the chair in the waiting room,” I quickly say.

I rush to where I was sitting, but I can’t find it. As I turn around, I see Mr. Brown standing behind me.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I had it with me I-um just don’t know where-” I begin to say but he cuts me off.

“I’m sorry, I have a lot of interviews to get to. If you're not prepared you should leave, thanks for coming.”

“No, please,” I say, my heart beating faster, but he is already walking away.

I’m about to follow him when the group of girls who walked by earlier come up to me. “Are you looking for this?” says one of the girls. In her hand, she’s holding my article!

“Where did you get that?” I exclaim as I quickly snatch it out of her hand.

“Oh, well you should know not to leave important stuff lying around. It just proves that you aren’t fit to work here,” she says snickering. The other girls behind her continue to laugh and whisper.

I roll my eyes and look for Mr. Brown. My shoulders drop when I see him meeting with someone else for an interview. The girls laugh and walk away with their heads held high.

“I can’t believe they did that!” Katie yells through my phone. I’m lying on the bed in my hotel room, staring at the ceiling as I tell Katie about the epic fail.

“I know! What do I do now-” I begin to say.

“Oh wait, what’s that? Oh alright,” Katie interrupts with a frown. “I’m sorry V, I have to go. I wish I could be there with you, but I have to get back to this art gallery.”

“No problem that's alright,” I say as I hang up. I turn my head to face the huge window that covers most of the wall. It's now dark outside except for lights from buildings that light up the sky. Cars honk in the distance. I sigh, stare at the ceiling, and try to fall asleep.

Eventually, almost an hour passes and I’m still wide awake. My heart beats faster and my fists clench whenever I think about how those girls took my article and sabotaged me. I get up and open my computer. I start writing.

And writing.

And writing.

“Beep” “Beep” BEEEEEP”

My eyes flutter open. I see my computer screen glowing beside me. I must have fallen asleep. I jump out of bed and quickly get dressed. I grab my computer and race out of the room. I quickly grab a waffle on my way out of the hotel.

As I get out of my taxi, I look up again at the giant building. I will work here.

I quickly rush to the elevator and go to Mr. Brown's floor. The same lady is sitting at the front desk. She is sipping her coffee with a scowl on her face. She is definitely not a morning person or any type of day person for that matter.

I walk right past her and over to Mr. Brown’s office. I hear someone talking on the phone, “No we are one story short. We have to find something to publish and fast,” someone says. I knock on the door. “Come in,” says the voice.

I take a deep breath and slowly open the door. “Good morning Mr. Brown,” I say.

“Vanessa?” Mr. Brown says. He raises his eyebrows and puts down his phone. “What are you doing here?”

I take a deep breath, “Look I’m really sorry that I didn’t have my article yesterday, but I have it now. If you don't mind taking a look at it, I think you will like it.”

“Oh alright,” he sighs.

I hand him the papers to read. My heart beats faster and my eyes shift around the room. After what feels like forever, Mr. Brown says, “Wow I’m impressed. This is very good. However, I’m not sure if-”

“Well, I actually also wrote a short story just last night. It’s about my whole journey to get this job. It explains why I didn’t have my article yesterday. If you find it interesting you can publish it. I heard you might need an extra story,” I say, smiling.

I place the story on the desk. The title is in big bold letters, “Welcome to the City”.

Mr. Brown smiles and his eyes are wide as he reads my story. My eyes glance around the room and my foot taps on the floor. The room is quiet as he reads and the sound of my breathing seems loud.

Finally, Mr. Brown looks up. I smile kindly trying to hide my eagerness. “Vanessa,” Mr. Brown begins. “I must say, this story is very impressive. I will hang on to it for now, but I’ll call you for the final decision on if it will get published. Thank you for stopping by.”

I nod, “Of course, thank you so much.”

The mean girls from yesterday eye me suspiciously as I walk out of his office.

I look around at the city as I walk out of the building. It seems even bigger than ever before. I decide to walk around since I have nothing better to do. I think about how long it will take until Mr. Brown contacts me. “Maybe he didn’t even like it and was just trying to be polite. Maybe he will forget all about it the next day,” says a voice in my head. I force myself to ignore the negative thoughts.

I stare in awe at the sparkling skyscrapers. I walk over to a nearby park. The grass is green and perfectly cut. There’s a small lake and a family of ducks waddle by. I sit on a bench and gaze at the clear blue sky.

Suddenly, my phone rings. I hadn’t realized how long I had been walking around. “Hello,” I say when I pick up.

“Vanessa, hi this is Mr. Brown,” says the voice over the phone.

“Oh, Mr. Brown hi!” I exclaim, my heart speeding up.

“I just wanted to let you know that it was a difficult decision and your story is very impressive-” he says, taking a deep breath.

My heart slowly sinks, thinking he is going to say that he won’t publish my pieces.

“I would love to include your article and story in our post,” he exclaims.

My eyes light up and time seems to stand still. I feel like I’m flying. “Thank you so much, Mr. Brown. I am honored,” I respond.

“I hope to receive more stories from you soon,” he says.

As soon as I hang up with Mr. Brown, I get out my phone. “Katie! You won’t believe what just happened,” I squeal.