It's happening. I'm torturing the man who ruined my dad's career; the man who stole his purpose away and left him in that threadbare janitor's jumpsuit.
Ansel Carson is my arch nemesis, the source of all evil in my world, and I'm enjoying this. I am.
Gusting out a heavy sigh, I flick a paperclip. For once, Mr. Carson is not here yet, and I'm eager to make him miserable.
That's what this weird longing is. I'm sure of it.
Inside that office, the boss's desk is huge and clean and obsessively orderly. Everything is in its proper place, and when he spreads papers out on his desk, he keeps them perfectly parallel to the desk's edge.
I've taken great care to make my own desk as chaotic as possible. There's a Venus flytrap in a bright pink pot; a smattering of colored sharpies; a squeaky stre
