Simply Mad (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 1)

by Christina Coryell

  I’m trying to unclench my Brittany fist when I hear the third message:

  “This message is for Madeline Heard. This is Gayle at Dr. Harper’s office. There was a problem with the sample we took the other day and it might have been tainted, so we request that you come in again for a redraw. Thank you.”

  Redraw? What does that—

  The blood.

  Dread washes over me as I realize this unlikely turn of events is probably due to an unfortunate bang trimming and my notice of that sad mistake, since that receptionist saw how I reacted to the blood drawing the first time.

  Mom watches cooking shows and manages to make impressive dinners, while I watch makeover shows and manage to work my way into an appearance-related catastrophe.

  This might be the first time I wish all the messages had been from Brittany.

  Chapter Six

  The doctor’s office beckoned, but I managed to put it off all day, and I stayed at work as long as I could. After all, I am trying to make a good impression and doing my best to really astound the people upstairs. Funny, aside from Cooper, I don’t even know who the people upstairs are, but I’m sure they will be in awe of me nonetheless.

  There aren’t many people in the waiting area today. One of those cable news channels is playing on the television in the corner, and a well-dressed man is sitting in front of it reading a newspaper. An elderly couple sit in the opposite corner, the woman being in a wheelchair. The receptionist who had a distaste for me the other day is nowhere to be found. Maybe I should ring the bell for service. I wonder who came up with that idea? It seems a little demeaning to have to come when people ring a bell, like a dog reacting to a whistle. If it is the same receptionist who tried to belittle me, though, I don’t feel too badly about getting her attention in this fashion.

  Smacking my palm loudly on the bell, I wait for her to appear. Hmm…wonder what she’ll do when she sees me. She shouldn’t have enough reaction time to come up with a very detailed scheme. Unless Gayle told her I was coming, and they sat there together thinking of a way to get the better of me. She’s probably back there right now making notes and writing out her script.

  If she doesn’t come in a few seconds, I’m going to ring the bell again. Terribly spiteful, I know. I’m really going to have to work on controlling those types of actions in the future if I’m going to be an executive.

  Yes, I said executive.

  After ringing the bell for a third time, someone finally emerges through one of the doors – an older woman with curly, white hair and a red smock.

  “Can I help you?” she asks respectfully. I feel a little relieved, but also somewhat cheated. I had fully prepared myself for a confrontation with the smug, horrid receptionist, and instead I’m faced with a lady who reminds me of Mrs. Santa Claus.

  “Hi, I’m Madeline Heard, and I’m supposed to have a blood test.”

  “You’re Dr. Harper’s patient?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply politely.

  “Okay, someone will be right out for you.”

  “If it could be Lisa, that would be great. We really connected the other day.”

  In other words, I didn’t faint and she didn’t maim me.

  Sister Claus clucks her tongue, shaking her head. “Lisa’s not here today. I’ll send someone else. It should only be a few minutes.”

  I watch as she disappears behind the door, wondering if I’ve given her a reason to dislike me too.

  You won’t believe the girl out there, ringing that bell like I’m her servant and requesting special technicians like she’s the Queen of Sheba! No wonder they marked her as a difficult patient. I’m going to add demanding and impossible to the list.

  Locating a chair halfway between the businessman and the elderly couple, I somehow manage to earn smiles from both as I walk by.

  “Do you need something to drink?” I overhear the elderly man ask his wife. She shakes her head, and he pats her hand lovingly. When we’ve been together that long, I wonder how Benjamin will treat me. I can’t imagine him looking any older. In fact, I can’t imagine him much at all, come to think of it. I’m sure that will change after Friday.

  The only man I can imagine myself next to like that is Josh. He’d push my wheelchair in front of the television and turn on a baseball game, and I’d probably be cantankerous and talk to him the whole time, just because I know it drives him crazy. That’s just silly, though, because of course some undeserving little looker will convince Josh to be with her, and it will be her sitting in that wheelchair.

  Oh, who am I kidding? She won’t need a wheelchair, because she’ll probably be a cheerleader or something. Ugh, she so doesn’t deserve him.

  “Madeline Heard,” a deep voice bellows behind me. Turning, I see a giant standing in the doorway. As I rise slowly and walk towards him, I surmise that this must have been how David felt when he approached Goliath. Except David wasn’t a girl.

  “How are you today?” he asks. I indicate that I’m okay as I look up into his face. He’s probably 6’8”, which seems pretty tall next to my 5’6” frame. He’s fairly stocky, too, which makes me feel like a small child walking beside him.

  A child happens to pass me on the right, holding his mother’s hand, looking slightly disgruntled and holding a lollipop.

  “Where’s Lisa?” I inquire, not that I don’t believe Sister Claus about her being gone, but you never know.

  “She has the day off,” he explains, not looking up from what he’s doing.

  “Have you been here very long?” Trying to be friendly seems like the best approach, since I’m slightly terrified.

  “Three months.”

  “Where did you work before this?”

  “A video game store.”

  Sister Claus sent me off with a big burly giant who quit his job at the video game store three months ago? Isn’t there some sort of requirement for how long a person has to practice before they’re unleashed on the public?

  “So you’ve only been doing this for three months?” I ask cautiously.

  “Yeah, but I went to school before that. That’s why I worked at the game store.”

  I’m going to assume he’s talking about some type of medical school for people who draw blood and not (gasp!) high school. That would be just my luck! Friendly Sister Claus would send in an enormous kid right out of high school to draw my blood. It would serve the diva right.

  “Are you scared?” he whispers in a low, deep voice. “You should be.”

  I was right! He’s here to do me bodily harm. I should scream right now so someone comes to my rescue. I can’t just sit here staring at his cold, dark eyes, but my body is not cooperating with my brain. What am I going to do?

  Scream, Maddie.

  Scream.

  He begins to laugh, shaking his head and pulling a bandage out of a drawer.

  “I’m just kidding. You seemed too tense.”

  “I knew you were kidding,” I blurt, trying to sound convincing, “and I’m not tense. I just expected Lisa to be here, and she’s not, that’s all. She’s usually the one who takes care of me.”

  “Okay,” he says with a chuckle. He doesn’t believe me, and I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t believe me, either. My story didn’t sound very credible, even in my own ears.

  He starts poking around on my arm and rubbing it down with alcohol. I’m fairly convinced now that he’s not going to try to hurt me purposely, so I guess I can calm down. This part doesn’t hurt – I know that from the other day. Maybe I’ll even look this time.

  “Here comes the needle,” he says. On second thought, I definitely can’t look. I’ll just wait a few seconds, and then the needle will be in and the test will be almost over, and—

  Ouch! Oh my goodness! It’s an arm, not a piece of chicken! You didn’t have to stab me! I’m afraid to look—half my arm might be gone.

  “Looks like I’m going to have to find the vein,” he mutters. Glancing at my arm, I immediately wish I hadn’t as
a wave of nausea passes over me. He’s moving the needle back and forth, left to right under my skin. The end of the needle is visible beneath my flesh.

  You big brute! Just hurry up already! How hard is it to find a vein, really? And now I’m bleeding. Not into the tube, but down my arm. I’m bleeding to death!

  Sure enough, like clockwork, I begin to grow woozy.

  Removing the needle, he places a large piece of cotton over my arm.

  “Bend your elbow for a second to stop the bleeding.”

  Doing what he says, I can’t help but stare in disbelief. What in the world just happened here? He is a ringer! That’s the only explanation, isn’t it? Surely this isn’t common practice.

  “Sorry about that,” he adds with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll try the other arm.”

  The words come tumbling out before I can even try to stop them.

  “If you must, but when I’m finished, I better get a lollipop for this.”

  “Heard!” Hamilton barks. I look up to see him standing in the middle of the hall, coffee cup in hand. “Cooper was impressed with that extra report you created. Keep up the good work.”

  Score! A small victory in the hunt for a promotion. It must have been the awesome color-coded graph I included. No, I’m sure it was the witty sentence I used at the end. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. Cooper was impressed! I’m on my way to the top, baby. I should see the payoff roll in any day now.

  “Did you hear that?!” Katie exclaims as soon as Hamilton is out of earshot. “You impressed the invisible man! That is quite an accomplishment.”

  When Hamilton told us Cooper would be keeping a watchful eye on us, we all assumed he would be popping into the department from time to time. This has not been the case. In fact, I have not seen him one single time since I began doing Kyle’s job. He calls Hamilton with his requests, I compile the information, and Hamilton forwards it upstairs. Katie has concluded that Cooper is not a real person, but is in fact Hamilton’s imaginary friend. Thus, Cooper has earned the nickname “invisible man” within our department.

  “Not really,” I reply with an exaggerated shrug. “I actually impress him all the time, but he has no way of telling anyone, being invisible and all.”

  “You’re so kooky.”

  “I know. It’s all part of my charm.”

  Self-consciously, I tug at the wrist of my jacket. It’s not one of the ones I wear often—it’s a little itchy and it pulls funny around my shoulders. I had every intention of taking it off once I reached my desk this morning, but as I prepared to do so I remembered about my arm. The lab giant left an enormous green bruise, and I really don’t feel like fielding a host of questions about what happened. (Stabbing, nausea, wooziness, ultimately having to lie on the cold floor with a wet cloth on my face…)

  Needless to say, here I sit, still wearing the jacket, uncomfortable as can be.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and take your jacket off, Maddie? It’s not that big a deal. If someone sees your arm, you can just tell them you mashed it in a door or something.”

  “Or they might assume I’m a junkie!” No, the jacket definitely stays on. I’ll probably have to wear long sleeves tomorrow, too, despite the fact that it’s summer and hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. As a matter of fact, I’ll probably roast in the car on the way home, all because that lab technician should have never left his job at the video store.

  Oh well. Maybe my car will act like a sauna, and I’ll sweat off some of that gross food I’ve been eating. My pants are feeling a little snug today, and I’m sure it’s the oatmeal cookies I polished off, or the spaghetti I had the other night. Or possibly the ice cream I ate last night right before bed. Or the snack cakes I had for breakfast yesterday. Ew, I think I had pizza for lunch yesterday, too. A day for the record books. Wish I had a do-over on that one!

  New to-do list, beginning today: No more junk food. It’s all nutritious from here on out.

  Except I already had a donut for breakfast. In fact, there’s still a piece of it sitting on my desk. I should throw it away, what with starting fresh and everything. No more giving in to temptation, starting now.

  That would be terribly wasteful though, wouldn’t it? It’s such a small piece of donut, after all, and one tiny bite probably won’t hurt anything. So…

  Yeah, shameless, I know.

  Okay, it’s gone.

  Starting now.

  Chapter Seven

  Benji and I are no longer an item.

  And I know you can’t officially break up with someone after only one date, but I did have the beginnings of a future formulating in my mind. When he called to verify what time he was picking me up Friday night, we got to chatting a bit, and I casually mentioned that I was highly involved in the Camdyn Taylor book I was reading. He said, and I quote, “Meh, she’s okay if you’re into that kind of thing.”

  There would have probably been a better way to have reacted, and I’m sure I could think of one now given the separation from the moment, but I full-out excoriated him. Camdyn Taylor breaks into your heart and takes residence, I said. She is a bright light amid a dreary sea of Hemingways and Faulkners, I added.

  Looking back, I might have overdone it just a tad.

  Seriously, though, this book…

  Last night, I really wished I could go back in time and smack Willa’s father or something. How could he keep her from leaving with Robert? He was the love of her life, couldn’t he see that? But instead she had to marry Adlai. Ugh, my heart is breaking again just thinking about it.

  So even after all that effort, Benji thought we just didn’t connect, and he canceled our second date. I knew there had to be something wrong with him. First of all, he was definitely no Mario Lopez. Second, he obviously didn’t know a good thing when he saw it. That is a fatal flaw.

  Benji is just a tiny chapter in my life, though, and I’m ready to move full-steam ahead. That’s what Jess cemented in my brain last night when I gave her the details. It’s also what I was told this morning, when I woke up to a lovely text from Josh: He obviously didn’t deserve Mad.

  No, he most definitely did not.

  I’ve got to dwell in the present, though, which currently means going through all the paperwork in Kyle’s desk. Hamilton is under the impression that the company is going to hire someone soon, so I want to make sure that person (me) has a fresh start. I’ve already got plans for the office, including how I want the furniture arranged and which prints I want on the wall. I’m going to get a nameplate for the door, too, because I’ve always wanted one.

  The first thing I’m going to do, when I get the job, is redistribute the workload. Shelly is really underutilized—a product of the reign of him of whom we do not speak. I’m not sure what his fascination was with Shelly, but he always seemed to think that she was overworked, which meant that Katie and I took on a lot of her responsibilities. Now Shelly spends half her day on personal phone calls and the rest of the day slowly plodding through her duties to make them last as long as possible. I’ve even seen her giving herself a manicure at her desk. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for looking your personal best, but she can do her primping and grooming on her own time like the rest of us.

  I also plan on letting the other members of the department have input into the way things work around this joint. Everyone I’ve worked for here has acted as though they were the boss and no one else’s opinions mattered. Well, that is going to change. Everyone who works for me will know that I value what they think and what they have to say. Of course, Hamilton will notice that our department functions differently than the others, and he will ask how to emulate our success. I could bring about positive change for everyone who works here. The entire company is going to thank me in time.

  Yes, I believe things are starting to look up around here. That light fixture is terrible, though. I’ll definitely have to do something about that.

  “Psst…” I hear behind me and look towards the door. Katie is standing there, ar
m stretched across the doorway.

  “Something wrong?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

  “What are you doing, taking measurements?”

  “Just cleaning things up, as a courtesy for whoever gets the job.”

  “Yeah, I get it. You’re just preparing a place for yourself.” She removes her arm and steps away from the door. “You might want to check your desk soon. You’ve got some interesting items in your mailbox.”

  Intriguing. Following Katie back out into the hallway, I veer towards my desk and check my inbox. I’m not seeing anything interesting, but I pick up the papers and begin leafing through them. Fall projections, blah blah blah. Get your timesheets in early this week – no problem. A reminder about the dress code. Do we really need a reminder? Evidently someone does.

  Ah, what is this? A memo from the Human Resources Department…the one I’ve been waiting for.

  There is currently an opening in the Marketing Department for Marketing Account Leader. Anyone interested in this position should submit a résumé to the Human Resources Department.

  Instead of going outside like they have every single time the position has come open, they opened it internally. It must have been for me! I can almost imagine the conversation Cooper and Hamilton had when they were discussing the opening.

  “How do you want to approach this position?” Hamilton would have asked.

  “I’ve already made up my mind. The only person who could truly make that department shine is Madeline Heard. We should offer the job to her, with a double in salary and full management benefits.”

  “That is my thinking exactly. Should we go ahead and post the position to everyone, just as a formality?”

  “Yes, I suppose that would be necessary, but don’t even bother setting up any interviews. Madeline is the one we want, and I don’t want to waste my time on anyone else.”

  “I agree with you wholeheartedly. So we will hire her for the job and double her salary.”

  “No, wait,” Cooper would have said. “Triple her salary, and get her a company car. Not one of those cheap little numbers some people have to drive, either; get her something flashy. People need to know what happens when we have a star performer like that one. Get her some new office furniture, and bump her up to four weeks of vacation instead of two. Oh, and an annual bonus. I think she should get at least twenty thousand, don’t you?”