Free False Start by Barbara Valentin Page B

for everybody else."
    There was an edge to his voice that made her turn around. Marching right up to him, she asked, "Oh, really? Tell me, did anybody ever leave a dirty diaper in your locker?"
    A look of disgust swept over Nick's face. "No."
    "Anybody ever loosen the bolts in the chair they knew you'd be sitting in so when you did, it would break?"
    Nick shifted his weight to his other foot and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "No."
    Her eyes welling up, she leaned closer, lowered her voice, and asked him one last question. "Anybody ever make you feel like you don't deserve to be loved? Ever? By anybody?"
    Titling his head to one side, Nick looked at her, his eyes filled with compassion.
    Mattie pressed her lips together and whispered, "I didn't think so."
    She turned her back and walked several paces away from him before calling over her shoulder, "Thanks again for breakfast."
     
    *  *  *
     
     Two hours, one hot shower, and three cups of strong black coffee later, Mattie had put her outburst with Nick behind her and stormed into Dianne's office. She was barely able to contain herself.
    "I ran a whole lap without stopping."
    But, Dianne wasn't there. Looking around, she noticed that the entire lifestyle department seemed to be missing.
    What in the world…?
    On her way back to her desk, she heard the sound of laughter spilling from a conference room. As she approached, she noticed the door was slightly ajar.
    "Over four minutes to run a quarter mile? My grandmother can do better than that," said a voice belonging to Troy Baker, the new intern who made up for his lack of experience by inflating his own accomplishments at every turn.
    "Is that the same grandmother who taught Martha Stewart how to use a glue gun?" retorted the unmistakable drone of Hugh Fink from classifieds, already tired of hearing Troy's tall tales.
    "Check this out," said a man whose voice she didn't recognize. "This is the best part of the whole thing."
    The room erupted with sounds of disgust. The intern exclaimed, "Hey, do you mind—I'm eating?"
    "All right. That's enough." It was Dianne. She was in there with them.
    Goosebumps crept over the surface of Mattie's arms, and the nausea threatened to return. She racked her brain trying to recall if she saw someone with a cell phone recording her every move.
    As much as she wanted to slink away and hide in her cubicle, she felt compelled to stay and listen.
    Dianne shot out, "We need a name for this feature and fast. What've you got so far?"
    "Fat to fantastic?" one voice offered.
    "Forget it. First, she's not fat. Not by my definition anyway. Second, this isn't about losing weight. It's about training for a marathon. Focus."
    "Rubenesque to ripped," offered another.
    "Did you even hear what I just said? What else?" Dianne fired back.
    "Plump to perfection?" This one actually got booed.
    "Buxom to buff."
    "Tubby to Terrif—"
    Mattie laid her head against the corridor wall. Aside from Dianne, she associated with no one, fearful of exposing her charade. That, however, did not make her co-workers' jabs any less painful.
     "All right. That's it. This is a feature title, people. It will be plastered on billboards across the Chicago metro area and slapped on the side of CTA buses. Use your brains. I'm sure you can come up with something at least a little clever and far less insulting. Think of a working mother who's too busy to exercise, committing to train for this marathon. Think 'A Cinderella Story,' but with runners."
    Mattie closed her eyes and pictured herself crossing the finish line, skinny and fit, waving to a mob of her adoring fans before accepting a giant bonus check from Lester.
    Running down a dream…
    An unrecognizable female voice asked, "So if she doesn't want to lose weight, why is she doing it?"
    Dianne's heels click-clacked on the hardwood floor as she circled her team. "Excellent question, Nancy. For starters, she's doing it to inspire her readers, mostly working parents who