Privileged Read Online Free Page B

casually shifted my legs away from Jemma and wrinkled my nose along with everyone else. There were murmurs around the conference table, until Debra asked Jemma to check with building security.
    “Let’s wrap up for now, people,” Debra called as Jemma Minnie-Moused her way out of the conference room. The editorial staff shuffled toward the door. I was about to slip out with them, when—
    “Megan?”
    I turned back. “Yes?”
    Debra slid her glasses onto her nose. “See me in my office in five minutes.”
    This was really
not good
.

Choose the analogy that best expresses the relationship of the words in the following example:
    DOWNSIZING : SELF-CONFIDENCE
    (a)stovepipe pants : plus-size model
    (b)Page Six exposé : notoriety
    (c)Britney Spears : K-Fed
    (d)Grammy win : ticket prices
    (e)drunken rampage : opening box-office number
    Chapter Four
    I stood outside the door to Debra’s spacious office, listening to the wind howl around the corner of our building. NY1 had warned that the first real cold front of November was moving in. This seemed an apt metaphor for my life.
    The mail guy wheeled his cart past me, careful not to make eye contact. Even the mail guy knew I was a
Scoop
leper. I glanced through the glass wall of Debra’s office. She was on the phone but waved me in.
    I stepped into her office for the first time since I’d been hired and was struck again by how spare and clean it was. Glass desk, Toshiba laptop, plus more of those floor-to-ceiling windows. She motioned me into one of the three black director’s chairs facing her desk. The only decoration in her office was a silver Tiffany-framed photo of a much younger Debra at the beach, grinning at a little boy. Debra never talked about her personal life.
    “Uh-huh. Okay. Fine . . . Yes, I’ll let you know, Laurel. Talk to you soon.” Debra finally hung up. “Megan.”
    “Yes?” I managed, folding my hands in my lap.
    “Your instincts are scaring me.” She swiveled her Aeron chair to look out the tall glass windows.
    “I know my pitch was a little off,” I admitted. She was staring at me as if I were a dead cockroach on her desk, but I plunged on anyway. “Sure, people like to read about the rich and famous, but if you think about it, we have a unique opportunity to reach so many different types of women.
Scoop
’s demographic is—”
    “Jemma was right, Megan,” Debra interrupted. “I’d hoped to move you from captions to articles by now—that’s why I put you in Latoya’s department. But it’s been two months, and you’re just not getting it.”
    My face flamed anew. “I’m sure I can come up with some better ideas.” I hesitated, just in case Debra wanted to jump in at this point and agree with me. No such luck.
    “I have to let you go, Megan.”
    I looked at my lap. Let me go? As in
fired
? Unemployed? Unemployed
again
? I gulped hard. “I understand. I’ll just go clear out my—”
    “I’m not finished,” Debra interrupted.
    “I’m sorry?”
    She folded her arms. “I like you, Megan. Actually, you remind me of me at your age.”
    Evidently, she would have fired herself, then. I blinked my suddenly watery eyes.
    “You’re smart. Your ideas are intelligent and ballsy. And you’re a hell of a writer—none of that is lost on me. But
Scoop
isn’t the right fit for you. You should be writing for a weightier magazine.
East Coast
.
Rolling Stone
. Even
Rockit
.”
    Gee, you think?
    “I do have some good news,” she continued. “There’s a job in Florida. Teaching. It’s only for two months, but I think you’d be perfect for it.”
    Teaching? In Florida? For two months? This was her idea of
good news
?
    I started to stand again. I felt my throat tightening and hoped to escape before the tears bubbled up again. “Thanks for thinking of me, really. But I’m not a teacher.”
    I turned to go, but Debra raised a finger. “Wait. Hear me out. One. It’s mid-November—publishing is practically dead from Thanksgiving