Читать книгу Cupcakes and Glitter Shakes - Lisa Clark - Страница 9

So, this is it.

The Missy offices.

Home to my all-about-me magazine adventure for the next week.

Wowzers.

If I thought my belly was doing crazy kinds of belly flips last night before I went to sleep, it was nothing compared to the triple somersault Olympics that was taking place in my tummy right now.

I had done my very best to prepare myself for all things magazine-y on the train journey here.

I’d read the latest copy of Missy from cover to cover to get familiar with all the sections and the people featured inside. I’d taken out my new super-cute pink notebook that I’d decorated with two pretty cartoon Japanese girls on the cover (seriously, if ever there was an excuse needed to buy new stationery, then doing an internship was deffo it!) and made notes with my new pink pen. I love writing in a notebook in public, it makes me feel like a super-mysterious writer girl. No one ever need know that you’re just writing shopping lists, or in my case, potential questions I might ask Ed-girl, Tori, if I get the chance. I also took lots of deep yoga breaths as demonstrated by Yoga Dad on the train platform before I left. I’d laughed at him at the time, and you would have too if you’d have seen him panting like a puppy dog, but I take it back, because yoga breaths are deffo calming the nervy feelings I’ve got going on.

Well they had done ‘til now.

Nothing could have prepared me for this. The building is ma-hoosive. It scrapes the Londinium cloud-filled sky it’s so tall. It has big glass revolving doors and a security man standing outside.

The security man nods his head and wishes me good morning as I take a deep breath and head into the whirl-swirl of the revolving door.

This is it.

I’m here, and I’m going to be the best intern-girl Missy magazine has ever had. I’ll be attentive, I’ll make lots of cups of tea and despite the crazy amount of butterflies currently inhabiting my tummy, I’ll rock. Besides, I’ve got cupcakes, everyone loves a cupcake.

I stand up tall ready to rock my most practiced runway walk of confidence to the reception desk, when I’m yanked backwards.

Hard.

I turn on my heel, thinking the security man has decided he’s made a mistake in letting me pass, that actually I’m way too young to be working in this big and important building, and that I must leave immediately, but it’s not.