I was so impatient waiting for Carol the Witch to give me a review on what I have so far with my weekly advice column. She does this every Wednesday, three o'clock sharp and I ended up leaving her office around four just because she liked the idea of giving me such lectures about how to be a great writer especially for the Cosmo. Like I didn't know that already.
"Charlotte," she said slowly, peering up from that half-moon glasses of hers.
Ugh. Again. How many times do I have to tell her?
"It's Cece, Carol," I reminded her.
She sighed and gave my paper back. Taking off her glasses then, she rubbed her forehead.
"Alright, Cece," she forced herself to call me by my nickname. "This week your advice column is very good, I can give you that. But I--"
I cutted her off before she could say another word. After all the effort I put into my damn advice column which is at the back section and I only got half the page too, she still thinks this is not enough?
"I'm sorry Carol, I thought you said my advice for this week's column is good?" I tried to calm my voice down.
Carol looked disapprovingly sharp at me, as if I'm some kind of street dog scratching myself to get rid of my fleas.
"Will you let me finish talking?" she said. Her tone had gotten icy cold. I gulped. "I wanted to say that I feel you're ready to write a column of your own. That is if you're up for it. However, I can understand if you're not. Moving up from an advisor to something big such as this to talk about what I'll be assigning you to, it is very understandable if you can't handle the job."
My mouth gaped open. Is she for real? She had given me a chance to write a whole page column for Cosmo magazine? And what the hell is she talking about I can't handle the job. Of course I can! I'm Cece Bennett for Pete's sake, I can handle anything thrown at me.
