Chapter 49 Part III Current Situation - 12

Written by Rebecca Bloomwood The next morning, I woke up at 6 o'clock.I know it looks ridiculous to me, but I'm as excited as a kid at Christmas (and, to be honest, like I am at Christmas). I lay in bed and told myself to stop being so childish and stop thinking about it.But I just can't help it.There are pictures in my mind: Newsstands across the country are filled with stacks of newspapers, copies of "Daily World" are delivered to thousands of households in the morning, and everyone will open the newspapers , while yawning, wanting to see what news is in today's newspaper.

What will they see? They'll see my name! Rebecca Bloomwood in The Daily World! My first ever published article in a national newspaper!" By Rebecca Bloomwood ’, that sounds fantastic! Written by Rebecca Bloomwood”! I know the article has been accepted, because Eric Foreman called me yesterday afternoon to say that the editor was interested in it and included it in the color edition.This way, the picture of Janice and Martin is in color.Really eye-catching.I can't believe this is real, my article was published in the Daily World! Although I was still lying on the bed, I imagined that the newspaper kiosks in the row of shops around the corner already had a stack of "Daily World" newspapers.A stack of newly arrived, unopened Daily Worlds.Then the kiosks opened... what time did the kiosks open? I think it was like 6 o'clock.And now it is 5 past 6 o'clock.So, in theory, I could go buy a copy right now if I wanted to.I can get up, get dressed, and head to the newsstand to grab a copy!

Of course, I don't want that.I'm not even going to rush in the store as soon as it opens just to see my name.I mean, what do you take me for? I don't.I'll wander the streets a little later—maybe 11 o'clock or later—and pick up a newspaper, flip through it, and walk home at a leisurely pace.I probably wouldn't even buy it.I mean - it's not like I haven't seen my name in the papers before, right? No big deal, no fuss. I'm going to roll over and go back to sleep.I don't understand why I wake up so early.Must be because of the birds chirping or something.Hmmm... close your eyes, make your pillow more comfortable, think about something else... what should I have for breakfast when I wake up?

However, my name has never appeared in the "Daily World".Isn't it? There is a faint voice in my heart saying.I've never seen my name in the national papers yet. God, this is mortal! I can't wait any longer, I have to see it for myself! I immediately got up from the bed, put on my clothes, and tiptoed down the stairs.As soon as the door closed, I felt like the girl in that Beatles song about leaving home.The air outside was fresh and sweet, and the road was silent.Man, waking up early feels so good! Why on earth don’t I wake up at 6 more often? I should wake up at 6 every day.Like New Yorkers, go for a walk before breakfast to burn off some calories, and then return home to an energizing breakfast: some oatmeal and a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.Awesome! I'm going to start my life like this from now on.

But when I got to the small row of shops, my heart was pounding.I involuntarily slowed down.Now that I'm here, I'm starting to feel a little nervous.I'm actually not quite sure if I want to see my name in the papers yet.Maybe I'll just buy a lollipop and go home.Or mints, if they have them. I pushed open the door carefully, and there was a "bang" on the door, and I frowned.I don't want to draw attention to myself this morning.What if the guy behind the counter has read my article and thinks it's not good at all? This thought tortures me, I shouldn't be a reporter, I should be a beautician, like I always look forward to it.Maybe it's not too late.I could retire right now and open my own beauty shop...  

"Hello, Becky!" I looked up in surprise.Martin Webster was standing at the counter with a copy of the Daily World in his hand. "I just woke up early today." He explained with a shy face. "I thought maybe I should come over and have a look..." "Oh," I said, "uh...me too." I shrugged nonchalantly. "Since you're awake..." My eyes fell on the newspaper, and I felt a little churn in my stomach.God, I'm dying of nerves! Please, make it easier to die. "So... how about the article?" I was a little breathless. "Well," Martin glanced at the newspaper in bewilderment, "it's a lot." He flipped the page in front of me.When I saw it, I almost fainted.The newspaper's colorful page showed Martin and Janice looking pitifully at the camera, and the caption below the image read: "Couple cheated by rich guy at Flag Steve Insurance."

I took the paper from Martin with some trembling, and my eyes went to the first line of the text... There it is! "By Rebecca Bloomwood".It's my name! It's me, that's right! The store door slammed open again, and we both turned our heads to look over.I was surprised to find that it was my father! "Oh." He coughed embarrassingly, "Your mother asked me to buy one. I'm already awake anyway, so..." "Me too," said Martin hastily. "Yes, me too." I said. "So," said Dad, "is the article out?" "It's out." I showed him the newspaper.

"My God!" he said, "that's a lot of space, isn't it?" "It's a nice picture, don't you think?" said Martin enthusiastically. "It's a beautiful picture of the flowers on our curtains." "Yes, it's a great shot." I agreed. I wouldn't be rude to ask him what he thought of my article! If he wanted to compliment my article, he'd say it himself; if he didn't, that's fine too.The point is that I'm proud of it myself. "And I think Janice looks beautiful," Martin said, still staring at the photo.

"It's pretty," Papa echoed, "just a little sad." "You see, these professionals just know how to frame the scene," Martin continued. "The sun is shining right here, in her..." "How is my article?" I asked pitifully, "Did you like it?" "Oh, very well written!" replied Martin, "I'm sorry, Becky, I should have said this sooner. I haven't read the whole thing, but it seems to make the situation clear! You literally make me a hero !” he added, frowning. "But... I didn't take part in the Battle of the Falklands."

"That's okay." I said quickly. "So you did all this yesterday?" Dad asked, "with my typewriter?" He looked taken aback. "That's right," I said smugly. "Not bad, eh? Did you see the byline? 'Written by Rebecca Bloomwood.'" "Janice will be thrilled!" Martin said. "I'm going to buy two." "I'll get three!" said Dad. "Your grandma will be happy too." "I'll get one too," I said, "or maybe two." I picked up a stack and threw them on the counter. "Six copies?" the clerk asked, "Are you sure you want to buy that many?"

"I'll need it when I write my resume." My face flushed slightly. When we got home, Mom and Janice were waiting outside the door, eager to catch a glimpse. "My hair!" Janice lamented upon seeing the photo, "looks awful! What did they do?" "No, dear," Martin objected. "You look very pretty." "The drapes look good in your house, Janice," Mom said, turning away. I can't take it anymore.Look, this is my family, more interested in curtains than financial headlines! Forget it, why care? Now, I'm obsessed with my name. "Written by Rebecca Bloomwood", "Written by Rebecca Bloomwood"! After everyone finished reading the papers, Mom invited Janice and Martin to our house for breakfast, and Dad made coffee.There was a festive atmosphere in the house, and everyone was laughing.I don't think any of you thought Janice and Martin's photo would be in the Daily World (with my name, of course! "By Rebecca Bloomwood"!). At 10 o'clock, I sneaked out and called Eric Foreman.You know, I was just out of an abundance of caution and just wanted to let him know that I had seen the article. "Looks good, doesn't it?" he said cheerfully. "The editors like this series very much. If you have similar reports, please contact me. I like your writing style, which is exactly the same as "Every Day." Articles required by the World of the Day." "Excellent," I said, though I wasn't quite sure if he was complimenting me. "Oh, I remember," he added, "you'd better give me your bank account number." My stomach churned uncomfortably again.Why does Eric Foreman want to know my bank account numbers? Damn, does he want to check my finances? Does he want to run a credit check on me? “Everything is done by transfer these days,” he said. “Is £400 okay with you?” what, what did he say?