Chapter 3 HOUR OF RECKONING

CALLIOPE

As I step through the glass doors, a wave of cool air rushes over me, soothing my damp skin and the frizzing hair. The lobby is everything I imagined it would be-sleek, modern, and teeming with an air of authority. A well-dressed receptionist sits behind a polished mahogany desk, her eyes flickering up to meet mine.

"Hi! I have an interview scheduled with Ms. Davenport at 9:30," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Of course, Ms. Calliope," she replies, glancing at her computer screen. "She's expecting you. Please have a seat. I'll let her know you've arrived."

I nod and take a seat in the plush leather chair. I catch my reflection in the glass wall beside me, my makeup slightly smudged from the rain and my hair a frizzy mess.

As I wait, I can't shake the sense of dread gnawing at my stomach. What if they don't see past my appearance? What if I've blown my one chance? The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor pulls me from my thoughts, and I glance up to see a woman in a tailored suit striding toward me.

"Calliope!" she calls out, her voice commanding yet friendly. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Thank you for having me," I reply, forcing a smile.

"Please, come with me." She gestures for me to follow her through a set of double doors that lead into a conference room.

Inside, the atmosphere shifts instantly. The room is bright, filled with contemporary art and a large table surrounded by a handful of people, all looking up expectantly. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I've worked hard to get here.

"Everyone, this is Calliope," Ms. Davenport introduces me, her tone firm yet welcoming. "She's here to interview for the position of Junior Data Scientist."

"Hi, everyone," I say, my voice slightly wavering but steady enough. I make eye contact with a few of the panelists-three men and two women-trying to gauge their reactions, each one more intimidating than the last. They introduce themselves, but my attention is pulled toward a familiar face at the end of the table-Orion. I do a double take, shocked and surprised to see him hear, suddenly I'm thrown into a frenzy of panic all over again. His expression is unreadable, yet I can't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at the sight of him.

"Good to see you again, Calliope," he says, a hint of warmth breaking through his professional demeanor.

"Good to see you too," I reply, feeling my cheeks heat up. My heart races as I take a seat across from him.

"Please, take a seat," he says, motioning to the chair across from him. I sit down, smoothing my skirt over my legs, feeling the fabric of the new dress I picked out still soft against my skin.

"Let's get started," Ms. Davenport says, glancing at her notes. "Can you tell us a little about your experience and why you want to work at GreenYield?"

I launch into my rehearsed pitch, recounting my internships, my passion for data science, and what attracted me to the firm. As I speak, I can see their interest piquing, the initial skepticism softening. I feel a surge of confidence building inside me.

Halfway through my spiel, I catch Orion's intense gaze. He raises an eyebrow, as if challenging me. "And what do you think sets GreenYield apart from other companies?" he asks, his voice deep and steady.

"I want to work with your company because of how you use data and technology to improve farming. I'm excited about the chance to apply my data skills to help make a real impact, like improving efficiency and sustainability. Your focus on innovation matches my passion, and I'd love to contribute to your success," I blurt out quickly, the words tumbling over each other.

Orion gives a half-nod, his expression remains unchanged.

The interview wraps up with a few more questions, and I manage to hold my own, feeling the anticipation in the air. Finally, Ms. Davenport stands, thanking me for my time. "We'll be in touch shortly," she says, her tone professional yet warm.

As I gather my things and head toward the door, I can't shake the feeling that I need to speak to Orion. The memory of our encounter gnaws at me, and I know I have to apologize for how I acted. He bursts through the doors, this is my cue.

"Orion, can I have a word?" I call out, my heart racing as I approach him, stopping him at his tracks in the hallway. Thankfully, the others stayed behind and are still seated in the room so we are the only ones here.

He looks up, surprise flickering in his eyes. "Of course, Calliope. What's on your mind?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation. "I wanted to apologize for this morning. I was stressed and overwhelmed, and I didn't mean to take it out on you."

He chuckles lightly, but there's an edge to it. "You have nothing to apologize for. I was the one who splashed you with that puddle."

"I'm sorry for being rude about it," I insist, feeling the weight of my words. "It was a chaotic day, and I just wasn't in a good headspace."

He watches me, his expression thoughtful. "You don't need to worry about it. In fact, I found it refreshing. You're passionate and fierce, and that's something I respect."

My heart skips a beat. "Really? You think so?"

"Absolutely," he replies, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Before I can say anything else, Ms. Davenport appears, interrupting us. She calling him back into the conference room.

"I'll see you soon, Calliope" Orion says, offering a reassuring nod before returning to his colleagues.

As I leave the office building, hope and anxiety bubbles within me. I think I did well, but will it be enough to secure the job? My thoughts swirl as I cross the busy streets, replaying the interview in my mind.

A few hours later I'm back home and reclining while staring at the television my phone buzzes with a notification. It's an email from Ms. Davenport.