I stand up and enter the room. My hands are sweaty, my throat tight. I sit down in one of the chairs across from Lydia’s glass-topped desk. Unlike the rest of the building, this room is all high-tech and glossy-looking, with only a pair of antique Chinese cloisonné vases as decor.
“Ms. Bennett,” Lydia says, leaning back in her white leather chair. Her perfectly coiffed hair doesn’t move as she looks me up and down. “It says here on your resume that you studied at… Montclair Community College.” She drawls the last two words with clear amusement. “I was unaware that one could receive a fine arts degree from a community college.”
“Not all of them offer the program,” I say, my heart sinking at this immediate obstacle. “I was lucky to find Montclair Community College after I had to drop out of Tufts.”
“You got into Tufts?” She looks surprised.
“I attended for a year on a full scholarship before…a family emergency called me back home.”
Lydia waits for an explanation, but I don’t tell her anything more. Mom getting sick, her death, it still hurts too much to talk about, and soon enough Lydia slides her reading glasses to the tip of her pointed nose and looks at the next paper in her folder. “You did very well on the assessment.”
I let out a breath I’d been holding since entering the auction house. “Oh, that’s so great to hear.” I knew it! “I just love art so much—the Baroque era is my favorite, the movement in the paintings, the energy and life in such dramatic, vivid detail—but any true masterpiece hits me, right here, you know?” I touch my heart. “It’s like a real physical response, and I just want to be around the beauty, the craft, the history of the art you have here.”
Lydia removes her glasses, almost smiles at me. Maybe this isn’t such a long shot after all. “Many of the other applicants also did well,” she says. “Tell me why you deserve this.”
I take another breath. Where do I even begin? “I would work so hard if you give me this opportunity, Ms. Forbes, harder than anyone else. I understand what an opportunity this is, and I don’t take that for granted.” Not like the trust-fund kids outside, I silently add. “Day or night, whatever Carringer’s needs. I want this job, and…honestly, it’s everything I ever wanted. I know I would be really good at it, and if you just let me—”
“Thank you, Miss Bennett,” she says, cutting me off. She stands abruptly, so I stand, too, my skirt sticking to the back of my legs. “That will be all.” She gestures to the door, where I see her assistant has been standing still as a statue during the entire interview. My cheeks burn.
A little flustered, I thank her as I walk across the room. “We’ll be in touch,” Lydia says as I exit and am flung back into the sea of rich kids and their designer duds and college connections, feeling like the biggest fish out of water ever. What just happened?
Chelsea and Angelica still sit in the same place, chatting and laughing. They’re not nervous at all, and I wonder what it must be like to not have to try so hard. To have daddy pull strings for an interview, and have your life served to you on a silver platter. As I walk past, Lydia’s assistant calls a ridiculous name that sounds like “Grandelwile Brandyblerg” and Angelica says, “Oh, he’s supposed to be really good. And his mother is on the Board of Directors here.”
“I’m not worried,” Chelsea says breezily. “You know my dad is one of their biggest clients. My name is already on the paperwork.”
Angelica rolls her eyes. “Why did I even bother?”
Chelsea sees me watching them and smirks. “None of you should have bothered. This whole thing is for appearances.” She looks me up and down and clears her throat loudly. “Speaking of appearances…” Next to her, Angelica giggles.
My heart sinks. Tears begin to burn behind my eyes and I walk away fast, quickening my pace even though my feet are blistered and sore. I have to hope that that spoiled, shiny-haired, smug girl is wrong. That this whole day wasn’t just a formality like she thinks, that I have a chance. Mom, I did my best. I cross my fingers as I head back out into the city streets.