Riptide - By Lindsey Scheibe Page 0,11
As for the summer, Grace already shot me down anyway. And she’s not into dating anyone right now, so it’s not even like I’d be working against her—it’s more like I’d be helping her maintain her goals, and those just happen to coincide with her dad’s concerns. So, really, I’m not betraying anyone. I can do this, right? I tap my fingers on my leg. I can try again with Grace in the fall. What’s a few extra weeks?
Besides, it’s not like I have any great backup options. I say, “Deal.”
“I knew I could count on you,” Mr. Parker says. “Head on out to the copy machine tour.”
I run down the hall and catch up with Brianna and Hop. They’re still in Conference Room G, waiting for the tour.
Brianna looks at me, one eyebrow almost arched to her hairline. “What was that about? Found the strongest applicants to make copies?” She waves her arms around wildly, pointing toward me and Hop. “Are you kidding me? We’ve got a rainbow in here. Where’s the token white kid?” She pops up out of her chair and her hands move automatically to her curvy hips. “And I’m not sticking around to make copies for the next eight weeks.”
Wow, the girl’s got fire. Wondering which question to answer, I shrug. “I’m half-white. Does that work for you?”
Hop laughs nervously. “Listen, you can take the all-righteous, too-good-for-everybody route or you can dig up the courage to stick it out. There’s no way all we’re going to learn is how to make copies. I don’t know about you, but I sure could use a great letter of rec.”
Brianna’s going to murder Hop and I’m the key witness. He keeps his cool, waiting out her stare of death.
She says, “I’ve got game.”
He shrugs. “I guess we’ll see. Are you here to play the game? Or are you just here to be loud and make a big splash and a big exit?”
Daaaaamn! I laugh out loud. Couldn’t help it. She directs her fierce gaze at me. I laugh again. “Nice try. I got a mama straight from Mexico. You haven’t had the years of practice or the fire to come close to the looks my Ma shoots me.”
She bristles like a cat rubbed the wrong way.
I shrug. “Just stating the facts. You got game or what? I’m going to get a tour of the copy machines from Teresa.” I say “Teresa” with the Spanish accent.
Hop stands up and sticks out his fist. We bump fists over, under, and straight on. Then we walk out the door.
A few feet down the hall, I turn around. No Brianna. “Dude, you think she’s gonna quit?”
Hop says, “No way. She’s smarter than that. I called her bluff. She needs a few minutes. Then she’ll be here all summer to terrorize us with her awesome hot self.”
We keep on walking.
Hop says, “You play poker?”
“Not really. I’ve been trying to spend time volunteering with organizations that help immigrants get legal status. I’m interested in immigration law.” Not wanting to sound too serious or uptight, I shrug and add, “Well, that and surfing.”
He claps his hands together and rubs them maniacally. “Awesome. I have a project of sorts that I need a little help with. You need to meet my crew—some of them could use your help. As for poker, we play for quarters.”
We reach Teresa’s desk without Brianna. Teresa’s an uptight woman; I can tell that by looking at her. She dresses about ten years older than she is, and not in a good way. That dark black hair of hers is captured in a tight bun and she wears granny glasses. What’s up with women who do that?
Teresa glances at us and points to nearby seats. No words. Then she looks back. “Where’s Brianna?”
Hop says, “I think she had to powder her nose or something.”
Teresa nods. We sit. A few minutes later Brianna huffs around the corner and sits next to me. Man, she’s furious and she smells good.
It turns out Teresa wasn’t the one to give us a tour of the copy rooms. They got Jada for that. She’s the head honcho of the mailroom and the copy brigade. Looking at her, she seems like a cool chick—a nose ring, li>Heose rinttle tatt on the back of her neck peeking above her collar, blond hair in a ponytail. Aw, ponytails. But nope. She’s a freakin’ drill sergeant.
Once we’ve finished the driest tour in the history of internships, I’m wondering about how bad