Who You Know Read Online Free PDF

finally turned over, but it wasn’t happy about it.
    I couldn’t complain. It was amazing that the car made it all the way from Minneapolis to Boulder. Still, I prayed it would cling to life for a few more months, at least until I could get a decent job. It was a long shot, as the Subaru had repeatedly made it clear that death was imminent.
    On the drive from Minnesota, Greg had driven behind me so he could rescue me lest my car conk out for good. The Subaru made it, but various features in the car went quietly kaput, the most troubling of which was the demise of the driver’s seat. At one moment I was driving along the interstate in a seated, upright position, and in the next instant I heard a little snap and I was suddenly supine and staring at the sky through the sunroof. It took me a long moment to understand what had happened, then I screamed and bolted upright, relieved to discover that I hadn’t drifted into oncoming traffic. It was twenty miles until the next gas station. Twenty miles of driving without any back support whatsoever is harder than it sounds. At the gas station, Greg wedged a block of wood in to get the back of the driver’s seat to be almost but not quite upright. Now when I drove I had to sit at an unnatural angle that made me feel as if I were manning a lunar space module.
    Then there was the matter of the sunroof. It wouldn’t latch. I had tied it down with a shoelace, but it still didn’t close completely. Greg used electrical tape to seal the gap, but rain always managed to drip through anyway. Because of Colorado’s frequent afternoon thunderstorms, I’d gotten used to driving smashed up against the driver’s side door to avoid getting completely drenched. At stoplights, with my face mashed up against the window, I tried desperately to avoid the gazes of the drivers who pulled up beside me and observed my contorted position with confusion or amusement.
    Today, happily, was sunny, and the fact that I wouldn’t arrive at my interview sopping wet seemed a good omen. I popped in an Indigo Girls tape and sang along with Amy and Emily.
    I had just turned onto the highway when a rock hit my windshield. For a moment I thought the popping sound was a gunshot and the glass shrapnel that whizzed by my eye was a bullet. The crack in the glass burned its way across the windshield, making it hard to get a clear view. The splintered glass changed its trajectory, fashioning a complicated web. Like I wasn’t jittery enough.
    My heart pounded furiously against my full-coverage support bra as terrifying thoughts seared through my head: What if the glass hadn’t missed my eye and I’d been blinded and then spun wildly into traffic, leaving a trail of blood and carnage, my dead body hurled from the car into a Mack truck that, upon impact, exploded into a firestorm of destruction?
    Okay, the good news: I wasn’t dead. The bad news was that, now, in addition to being forced to drive at an entirely unnatural incline because of my busted-up driver’s seat, I could only see through the bottom part of the windshield like you do in the winter when the defrost has only cleared the first couple inches.
    Oh well. The car was worth about fifty cents with or without a cracked windshield.
    I found McKenna Marketing without further hazard and the human resources director started me off with two hours’ worth of spelling and editing tests. By the time I’d handed in the battery of exams, I was more frazzled than ever. My lipstick had worn off from chewing my pencil nervously, my hair was disheveled from slapping my head in an effort to kick-start my brain into thinking, and my eyebrows were furrowed tightly with stress. As the HR director alerted the managing editor that I was ready to see her, I took deep breaths and struggled to gain a modicum of composure.
    â€œWe’re so glad you could make it,” Eleanore, the manager of the editorial department,