Concealed

Chapter 1

The smell of freshly printed paper and dust was the first thing I noticed when I first started working here, I can't believe it’s already been a year. A year and still I have only been given rookie cases. It’s clear that my co-workers don’t respect me, but that is okay, and I understand it may take a while for them to see me as more than some just naive kid. But for the time being I need to remember that I am a professional editor and journalist in training. Every time I think of an interesting case which has the possibility to be front cover, they steal it from me, Sheilia (my colleague) said that ‘You shouldn’t spend weeks on a case that doesn’t have a clear direction, so don’t bother. People’s attention spans are decreasing, the readers want an easy reading story, one that makes them say “aw” and move on with their day, leave the hard-hitting cases to us’. I never want to become like them. That happened after my first month. But now it has been a year and I have no important articles too my name, I can’t prove her right about me. Last night my supervisor sent me an email saying that he urgently needed to have a chat with me as soon as I arrive. As I enter the building, I walk past the obnoxiously large sign which reads “Bluebird Publishing”. I can’t stop thinking of all the different possibilities of why he needed to talk to me, I know I haven’t been reaching my potential recently, but I don’t deserve to be fired. I knock on his hard-wooden door, “come in.” he says, I open the door and the smells of burnt coffee greet my nose abruptly. He called me in, I sit down in the blueish grey metal chair in front of his desk. We exchanged small talk about each other's days, we exchange an awkward smile and he wipes a droplet of sweat rolling down his forehead, it becomes abundantly that he is avoiding something. ‘We need to discuss your recent work, or lack thereof. Look I don’t want to pressure you, but head office is talking about dismissing you from your position here at Bluebird Publishing.’ He uncomfortably adjusts his position in his chair. I love this job it’s something I’m passionate about, I cannot afford to lose it. I ask if I am being fired. ‘No, don’t worry, there was just a little bit of talk around dismissing you from your position,’ he emphasised dismissing, as if the word “fire” was too harsh. ‘Look kid, I’ve talked them into giving you a second chance, I see a lot of potential in you, you have a sense of optimism that the other people here seem to lack, and again I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but you have to find and write on a big case, a real hooker article, you know? And if you don’t then sorry but we’ll have to dismiss you.’