Project Produce(42)

I was prepared to shout, You’re a jerk with a pickle, I’ll bet, but I only shook my head. Heat flooded my face, and the room full of bubbling girls and way-too-young-for-me boys tried not to laugh. God, I felt like I was back in high school.

“I thought not.” He gave me a smug smile. “You might want to step it up a notch. This projects counts for fifty percent of your grade.”

“Sorry,” I ground out, then kept my mouth shut before I said something I’d regret.

“Okay, I’d like you all to get into groups of four and discuss interview strategies to help those of you who are falling behind.” He looked right at me.

Three giggling teenyboppers formed a group with me. I tried to talk about interview questions, but they rambled on and on about shoes, clothes, and makeup. Like that would help me.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I turned to look out the window and blinked. A strange woman paced around outside with something hanging out of her mouth, then she pulled the object out. I squinted, dying to know what it was. The woman glanced at it, shook it, then stuck it back in her mouth.

A thermometer? No way. I tried forcing myself to focus on the group activity but couldn’t get my mind off the woman taking her temperature in the middle of a snowstorm. Another wacko. I shook my head.

Big, fat snowflakes fluttered to the ground. Maybe the woman was mentally ill, or delirious. People hustled right by her, giving her funny glances and a wide berth, but no one stopped to question her. I guess I shouldn’t have thought her strange, with all the unique people in New York, but this was the third one this week. Well, if Thermometer Woman was there when class ended, I intended to avoid her as well.

Trust me, I’d learned my lesson.

After our meaningless activity ended, Professor Butthead went over a short recap on the format for our presentations and then dismissed the class with a final smirk in my direction. “Ms. MacDonald, unless you want points taken off for your progress report being late, I’d like to set up a private meeting.”

Great, he was gonna fail me for sure. “I’ll come in during your office hours as soon as I have it prepared.” As soon as I checked in with my Angels, that was.

“Make it soon, Callie. I have a busy schedule.”

I nodded, pressing my lips together, not daring to speak. His gaze ran over me in distain, then he left the classroom.

Note to self: Pickles and buttheads are one and the same.

He didn’t come out and say it, but he was setting me up to fail. He knew this topic was difficult for me because I’d told him so, yet he kept pushing me. He probably thought I’d quit, but he didn’t have a clue how stubborn I could be. And now that I was coming out of my shell, well, look out. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to succeed this time.

I shoved my notebook into my backpack and headed outside, running late again. With a shrill whistle, I hailed the cab flying by me. It screeched to a sudden halt, making me a bit leery about riding with a driver like that, but I needed a lift. I opened the door, and then a gagging noise caught my attention.

Glancing over my shoulder, I gasped. Thermometer Woman stood four feet behind me, choking on her ridiculous thermometer.

“Great.” So much for steering clear of wackos. I tossed my backpack into the cab. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back,” I told the cabbie.

“It’s your dime, lady.”

I ignored the cab driver and wrapped my arms around the woman, clenching my hands tight, then yanking them in. “Come on, work with me. In and up, in and up, in and...”

Whoosh!

The thermometer sailed from the woman’s mouth and landed in a snow-bank. She gasped for breath and then dove after it as though it were made of gold. Scrambling to her feet, she marched back and glared at me. “What’s your problem?” she demanded, lifting her nose and dusting the snow off her expensive-looking suit.

“M-Me?” The woman had to be joking. “I was just trying to help.”

“Really? I should sue you for attacking me like that.”

“Attacking you?” I gaped at her. Forget mentally ill and delirious, she was downright insane. “I was saving you. Without me, you wouldn’t--”

“I wouldn’t be late for my meeting. Why, I ought to...” She glanced at the thermometer and frowned. “Great, now my thermometer is broken. How am I supposed to know when my temperature is perfect?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” I stared until the woman jumped into the cab and tossed my backpack into the snow. “Hey, wait, that’s my cab.”

Thermometer Woman didn’t say anything, just punched a number into her pager. Her purse buzzed and then said, “Brat three.”