Work is crazy on Monday. Everyone is talking about the column David and I wrote. I have to admit his idea to write two separate responses was genius. Aria made a few quick edits to the piece and sent it to layout for the next edition of the paper.

David is standing at the partition between our desks. It’s our usual midafternoon coffee break time. Since our cubicles have short walls and we can stand up and see each other, we don’t often stray from them. It makes it easier to answer phone calls or urgent emails.

“The part about making them pay your unemployment while she looked for a better job was great,” Nate says, leaning over his cubicle in front of David’s to talk to me.

“I can’t take total credit for that. I stole the idea from Aria.” After she quit Priority News, Marjorie Strauss fired her and Aria thanked her for paying her unemployment while she found another job.

“Man, I wish I had been there to see that all go down,” Nate says. “Aria’s told me about it, but it’s not the same.”

“No. The looks on Marjorie’s and Oliver’s faces were priceless. Kind of a cross between ‘Something smells like shit’ and ‘I forgot to put pants on this morning.’” David sips his coffee, a satisfied grin on his face as he remembers the event. “And then Emily literally dumped the contents of her desk into her purse and walked out. It was great.”

“Hey, I was a staff writer who’d only been there a short time. How much stuff did I have?” I had nothing to lose quitting that job. I still wasn’t sure why Mr. M. had taken such a big leap of faith promoting me to editor. Though I suspected my transcripts had something to do with it. I have the kind of brain that remembers everything. Even when I don’t want it to. Because of that, I pick up on new tasks very quickly. My grammar is impeccable, too. Always a plus when you’re a writer or editor. Or both.

Mr. Monohan steps out of his office and heads toward us. “Oh look, my staff thinks it’s a holiday. Let’s all stand around and sing Christmas carols.”

“Are we doing a Christmas in August issue?” James asks, walking off the elevator and only catching the tail end of Monohan’s comment.

“Not quite,” Nate tells him.

James walks to my desk and hands me a few pieces of paper stapled together. “Here’s my story. My laptop crashed last night, so I had to write it by hand. I’m not sure if I’m too over-the-top with this piece, so I was hoping you could look it over before I type it up.” He’s been acting more like himself, which is a relief after the way he hit on me at Last Call and then got all bent out of shape over it.

“Sure,” I say, placing the papers on my desk.

“Before you start on that,” Mr. Monohan says, “I was hoping to talk to you and David.”

David rests his arms on the partition between our desks. “I’m listening.”

“Why don’t you two come into my office?” He turns and walks off without waiting for a response from either of us.

I look to David, who shrugs. We both follow Mr. Monohan to his large office next to the conference room. It’s not furnished like his office at Priority News was. It’s very understated. The grandfather clock he insisted on having on the news floor at the previous paper is now in his office. Good thing too since David disassembled the thing last time he had access to it. In his defense, the constant ticking and gonging of the hours was really irritating, especially when you were rushing to meet a deadline.

Mr. Monohan sits down at his desk, which contains nothing more than a computer, day planner, and telephone. He folds his hands in front of him on the desk. “Please sit.” He nods toward the chairs, and David and I sit down.

“Mr. M., you don’t look very happy. I take it you weren’t as impressed with our column as everyone else was,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Quite the contrary. I thought you both did a great job. The problem is I can’t run the fake letter.”

“Why not?” David asks. “I thought you and Aria created it together.”

“Unfortunately not. Aria created it, and I approved it, but not to be run in the paper. It was a test to see how you would respond.”

A test? He made us do the assignment just to see if we could?

“Before either of you gets upset, let me explain.” He leans back in his chair and rubs his beard before continuing. “Marjorie has been doing her best to try to run For the Record into the ground since I decided to start the paper. While I’d love for her to read the column you both wrote and know exactly what it’s really about, I can’t risk it. I’m going to hold it in my back pocket for now.”

“Wait,” I say. “Are you implying that you’re going to threaten Marjorie with the idea of running the column if she doesn’t back off?” That’s genius! She’d never want to look bad in front of the public. She’d do whatever necessary to protect her beloved son’s image.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement, Miss Richards,” Mr. Monohan says, but his mouth curves up on one side.

“Probably best not to,” David says.

I’m sure Aria didn’t even know Monohan’s true intentions since she sent the column to layout. “Does this mean you need us to write another column for the next paper? Aria did move it on to layout, so we should probably get it back.”

Mr. Monohan sits forward again. “And I’ll need you to do that as discreetly as possible. I’m sure Elton hasn’t read it or even looked at it yet, so ask him to delete that file and tell him you’ll be making changes I requested and resending when ready.”

David nods and stands up. “I’ll go take care of it now.”

“Good,” Mr. Monohan says, and I start to stand, but he adds, “Emily, I’d like to have a word with you before you go.”

I lower myself back into the seat. I can feel David’s eyes on me, but I don’t acknowledge it. Once he leaves the office and closes the door behind him, Mr. Monohan continues.

“I read your performance review.”

Oh good. This is only a typical check-in on how I’m doing.

“Aria had some great things to say about you,” he continues. “She did have one concern, though.”

I sit up straighter, not having any clue what that could be since Aria never mentioned it to me when she told me about the review. “Yes, sir?” I ask.

“It’s Terry. I swear, none of you seem to be able to remember my name.” He rolls his eyes, but then he focuses on me and his voice softens. “You aren’t in trouble, Emily. To be honest, you’re probably the smartest person in this office, which is saying a lot since you’re also one of the youngest. But notice how your age isn’t an issue. You have staff writers working under you who are twice your age, yet not a one has ever complained because you’re professional, you know how to do your job, and you’re great with people.”

Is he trying to soften the blow by listing my good qualities first? “Mr. M., I do well because I’m surrounded by great people. Aria’s taught me so much. So have David and Nate.”

“All good people. No argument there. The problem is that our editors tend to all hang out together, both in the office and outside of it.” He inhales deeply before continuing. “I’m actually having the same problem with all my editors at the moment. You’re all so close, which comes from the fact that many of you worked together before. But my staff writers are feeling the divide.”

The staff writers don’t have desks because For the Record has a smaller space than Priority News did. We don’t have enough desks for all the staff writers, so they frequently work from home and come in for meetings.

“Do you want us to have the staff writers here more? Or are you suggesting we meet with them outside of the office?” I ask.

“I need a plan to fix this situation within the parameters of this space. How can we bring them in and mold them so that when someone leaves, which we all know will happen, we can have a great staff writer move up with ease?” He’s staring at me like he expects me to come up with a solution right on the spot.

“Wouldn’t Elton be better at figuring this out? He is the layout editor. He could assess the newsroom layout and determine the best way to bring in more desk space.” I offer a nervous laugh.

“Elton suggested we use the conference room, but I can’t since meetings need to take place there.” Mr. Monohan stands up and walks to the window. “I asked Nate, and his suggestion was to convert the break room into a workspace for the staff writers since none of you seem to use it anyway.”

That’s not a bad idea at all. “We all do tend to hang out at our desks when we take breaks. Like earlier when you asked to speak to David and me.” I feel the need to assure him we weren’t all standing around doing nothing while he paid us for it.

“I know, but that room is a separate room, and putting the staff in there will only make them feel even more divided from the editors.” He turns around and leans on the windowsill. “I need your brain. Assess the office, think logically and creatively, and come back to me with a plan. There will be a bonus in your check this week for your time and efforts. You’ll also see an increase in your paycheck now that you’re contributing a weekly column.” He claps his hands together. “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. You go get back to all that work I threw at you.” He ushers me out of the office.

David looks up from his desk when I approach. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, he assigned me the task of figuring out how to get the staff writers in here permanently.”

Nate stands up and turns around. “He got to you, too?”

“Yeah, because you and Elton couldn’t get the job done,” I tease him.

He holds his hands up. “I hear you. I tried, but he didn’t like my suggestion. Be prepared to have your idea shot down, too.”

“No way,” David says. “Emily’s a genius. She’ll figure it out.”

I look around the office as Nate shrugs and sits back down.

“Hey, Nate,” David says, and Nate has to stand back up to see him.

“Hand me your ruler,” I tell David, interrupting their conversation.

“What for?” he asks, but he gets the ruler for me.

I take it and start measuring the cubicles. They aren’t the monstrosities we had at Priority News, but they’re still bulky. We have two groups of four. I start doing some mental calculations.

“Emily?” Nate asks.

“Let her be. She’s doing her math thing. Did you know she is scary good at math?” David starts telling him about our miniature golf outing.

“You two went mini golfing?” Nate’s suggestive tone breaks my concentration.

“It’s what friends do,” I say before getting back to the numbers I’m crunching. “Mr. M.?” I yell, and David widens his eyes at me.

“You can’t just yell for the boss. Are you crazy?”

I start for Mr. Monohan’s office when the door opens. “We need to lose the cubicles and get more compact desks. These are way too big and bulky for the amount of things we actually need to have on our desks. Think about Edie’s desk at Priority News. It became a dump heap because it had the space to. If our desks were smaller, we’d only clutter them with things we need. Hence, there will be no clutter. Laptops, day planners, and our phones,” I say, thinking of Mr. Monohan’s desk. “That’s all we need, right?” I walk over to the wall beside the break room and gesture to the large area of free space. “We can get a large dry erase board and mount it here. We can color code it by department and have one giant schedule everyone can use and see. We can keep the editors’ desks grouped together in the center, but put the staff writers around us in a circle. That way they can see all of us, and we can see them. No one is separated.” I stop talking and turn to face Mr. Monohan, but instead I see everyone staring at me. “What? Do you all hate it?”

David smiles at me. “It’s brilliant, Emily. You’re absolutely brilliant.”

Aria is standing in her office doorway. Her eyes flit from David to me, and she shakes her head. She doesn’t need to say it. I can tell by the way he’s looking at me. He isn’t over me. He might have said our golf outing was merely two friends passing an afternoon they didn’t think they’d have free, but that’s not at all what it was for him. And I was stupid enough to not only go along with it, but to revert back to my old flirty self and make up that whole “wiggling your ass” thing.

If I’m so damn smart, why can’t I figure out how to make my friendship with David work?