The Whimsy Witch Who Wasn't - Donna Augustine Page 0,57

talk to about my massive failures of the day.

It was still fairly early, but there weren’t any lights shining underneath her door. I rapped softly, not wanting to wake her if she’d gone to sleep. No one answered. It was probably to be expected after what she’d been through. Might take her a few days to bounce back after the factory.

22

Rabbit was sipping the hot chocolate Zab had brought back from the Sweet Shop. She was wearing some of my hand-me-down clothes, since the only other things she had were factory uniforms. I’d given her the pick of my wardrobe, and she’d gone straight for the neon-green pants like it was her lucky day.

Belinda was even busier than normal today, having to split her glare between the two of us now, as if I’d multiplied in the middle of the night like a cockroach. Musso was his gruff self, with his lukewarm welcoming. All in all, it wasn’t a bad introduction.

“What should I do?” Rabbit asked. “I want to earn my keep.”

I grabbed her arm, pulling her into the back room as Belinda’s eyes narrowed.

Rabbit’s mouth dropped open and her eyes looked about to water. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I pulled you aside because you don’t have to do anything. If you want to do something, that’s different. But even then, don’t ask in front of Belinda. I told you about her.” I’d spent a good chunk of the morning filling Rabbit in the best I could, the way I’d have wanted to be prepared for—well, mostly just for Belinda.

“But can I help if I want to?” Rabbit was studying my responses like her life depended on it.

“You can do whatever you want. But if you do help, ask Zab or Musso for stuff. Whatever you do, don’t. Ask. Belinda. I think you’ve already been painted with the same brush because we’re friends. She won’t be nice.”

Rabbit waved a hand, finally looking a little more relaxed. “I can handle hate. That I’m good at.”

I walked back into the office and over to Zab. “Rabbit wants something to do. She should ask you, right?” I rubbed my neck as an excuse to point in Belinda’s direction.

“Yes! Definitely ask me. I’m pretty sure Hawk told me I was in charge,” Zab said, so loudly it was laughable. He turned to Rabbit. “Do you like to organize things? Or…” Zab’s eyes went skyward as he tried to come up with something else.

“I can organize,” Rabbit said. She waved toward the shelves. “Actually, I did happen to notice your books aren’t in any order at all.”

Huh? I’d organized them. What the hell was she talking about?

“Brilliant,” Zab said. “I hadn’t been able to figure out what Tippi did.”

What the hell? Had no one heard of alphabetical order here? I didn’t care enough to argue. I made my way to my table, knowing Rabbit had been spared Belinda.

Hawk walked into the office fifteen minutes later, barely glancing at Rabbit, who was waving at him in the midst of a pile of books she’d already pulled off the shelves. He stopped in front of the table I’d claimed as my own, evidenced by the little black cactus with a purple flower I’d found and the baskets I’d scavenged from other areas for my pass or shred piles.

“Back room,” he said before walking away, completely ignoring my little setup.

That was it, and that was all I needed. I’d been dreading this moment since we’d quit last night. The normal Hawk had returned, the one who would want me to fail for hours on end and then ask me what I was doing, as if I knew. Guess what, Hawk? I didn’t know! What came next was going to be a blaze of failure that would take up most of the day if I were lucky. Normally I wasn’t tortured with my own inadequacies until after the office closed.

If I wasn’t lucky, I’d be at it until late tonight, until the point that I could barely make it up the stairs from exhaustion. Failure had become such a foregone conclusion. My half-full glass had spilled all over the floor a week ago.

I walked past Belinda, who hated me even as I was being tortured, because I’d be spending time with Hawk. Yes, I’d be with Hawk, as he watched me in all my ineptness, failing, and failing again. Only a real psycho would be envious of me. Did she think this was enjoyable? Did