Goody One Shoe Read Online Free PDF

poked at her clenched hand with his head and rubbed her knuckles between
his ears.
    Billie swallowed. Maybe she needed to get back on the
psychology train. Before her night brain did something crazy. Something
permanent.

    “Wilhelmina!”
    Katherine screaming names from inside her office was never a
good way to start the day. Especially when it was Billie’s name.
    She gathered her skirt and her courage and stood. She took a
deep breath, eyed the beautiful day outside the window where everyone was free.
She chided herself for her envy of the birds, envy of the wind, envy of the
clouds. That was her reincarnation wish — to return untethered and in full
control of her every choice. To take flight. Not be anchored by one lost leg.
Or anchored by legs at all.
    She touched her fingertips to her hair to ensure everything
was in place, straightened her shoulders, and marched to her doom in the
chamber of horrors.
    At the threshold, she tapped her knuckles on the doorframe.
“Yes, Katherine?”
    You bellowed?
    Katherine stood at her own window, the six-hundred-page
albatross in her hand. She turned and lifted it in the air.
    Billie held her breath. If Katherine dropped that bomb,
binder clip be damned, red-stained pages would explode all over the office. And
Billie would be the one putting the unnumbered pieces back together.
    “What the hell is this?” Katherine’s eyes burned, her laser
stare piercing Billie’s bravery.
    “It looks like Mr. Morse’s manuscript.” Billie glanced at
her feet. She’d chosen the black pointed-toe flats with the faux snakeskin
texture this morning. But there was only one. In her haste to make the train,
she had failed to change the shoe on her prosthesis. It remained the dull brown
ballet flat with the rounded toe and the teardrop-shaped holes cut into the
leather. She couldn’t help but grin at the dichotomy worn on her feet. A
perfect match to her internal courage — pointed, black, reptilian, overwhelmed
by, and contrary to, the dull brown reality of the terror manifesting in
trembling hands and the threat of tears.
    Goddamn tears.
    Katherine slammed the document onto her desk.
    Billie jumped, her heart hammered. This was it. She was done
for.
    “Just what is your role here, Ms. Fullalove?”
    “Proofreader?”
    Katherine nodded. “Yes. Just a proofreader. Only a proofreader.” She tapped one finger on the pile of pages. “And in what
universe did you think that proofreader extended to editor, huh? Did I miss the
memo that you got a promotion?” She cocked her head and tapped that same finger
against her cheek. “Oh, wait.” She turned the finger on Billie. “I’d be the one
writing the damn thing.” Katherine took a step forward.
    Billie braced for impact. But Katherine wouldn’t hit her.
Couldn’t hit her. That was crazy. It was just intimidation. A tactic she
excelled at. Stand your ground, Billie. Stand your damn ground. “I just
thought, since I’m already editing —”
    “Proofreading.”
    Billie bit her lip. “Proofreading. And I can see issues with
the plot, with consistency. And the characterization?” Billie furrowed her
brow.
    “That is for the editor, not for you. If I wanted to know if
you could edit, I’d ask you to damn well edit. You’re just another minnow in
the proofreading pool. Now I have six hundred pages with your shitty red
chicken scratch marring the manuscript. How is the editor going to sift through
entire paragraphs slashed out, through your puny thoughts scribbled in the margins?”
    “I added some pages of notes, cross-referenced with —”
    “Not. Your. Job.” Katherine punctuated each word with a poke
to Billie’s shoulder with that offending, pointing, crimson-lacquered finger.
    Billie swallowed. “Katherine, please don’t touch me.”
    Katherine’s right eyebrow arched so high even her Botoxed
forehead crinkled. That brow was the harbinger of doom. The forecast of the
storm to come. Shit was going to hit the publishing