The Girl from I.T.

By MojoFiction

Alice Morgan has a problem. When something good happens she never fails to talk her way out of it. She can't help it; she just likes to talk. Ask anyone in the long line of her previous boyfriends and employers. Then, when she thinks things are finally looking up, she discovers she has breast cancer. Of course, as could only happen to Alice, immediately after finding out, she's offered a new job where meets a man she thinks might be the one. Should she tell him about it? Or just call in sick a lot? Unfortunately, it looks like things might get a little complicated...

• Language: English
• Publisher: MojoFiction
• Release date: May 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311859822

MojoFiction

MojoFiction is really just a strange pen name (though there's method to it...) for a native from the state of Colorado. Unfortunately, I currently live in Illinois, which is hardly mountainous, which leads to a lot of travel to less geographically-challenged places. I am an avid lover of the outdoors, believe in the importance of family, sometime watch cartoons, and spare no expense in an effort to be funny (no matter how many times I might crash and burn). When I'm not writing or hiking or being lazy, I have a day job in the city of Chicago, though I call in sick to attend Cubs games as often as possible. Mostly because tickets are quite affordable when your team su- ... isn't as good as the other teams.

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The Girl from I.T.

a novel

by

MojoFiction

The Girl from I.T.

This book is a work of fiction. No part of the contents relate to any real person or persons. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by MojoFiction

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is for everyone who doesn’t quite fit the mold. Let’s face it, you’re different. And it’s awesome.

PROLOGUE

Alice Saves the Day

NO ONE EVER accused Alice Gwen Morgan of verbal restraint. Her enemies called her tactless, foul-mouthed (though she never swore), heartless, stupid, dummy-head (that was third grade), and when she wasn’t around, or they thought she couldn’t hear, retarded. But they never called her speechless. Her friends, on the occasion when she had some, called her Alice the Merciless, because she could, and would, skewer even the most pure-of-heart soul with her constant stream-of-consciousness observations on life and the world she lived in. It didn’t matter if the object of her attentions was a stranger, a relative, or even a boyfriend. Alice always spoke what she perceived of as the truth.

This often led to awkward relationships.

Take Alice’s second serious boyfriend, poor Philip Rosen, a nice-looking, but clearly naïve young man. When he was twenty-two and Alice was twenty-four, they started dating. Because her last relationship ended badly, as usual, Alice tried to be considerate and think really hard before speaking. But during their first night together Philip, in the midst of passion, harmlessly asked Alice if she liked it, to which she replied that she did not particularly like it but she was going along with it to be polite and maybe if his manhood had a little more girth like her previous boyfriend’s there might be a little more going on – not that there was anything wrong with his penis, but, really, it was like comparing a straw to a potato.

Then there was her first job, right out of college, in the I.T. department at the Fossell Advertising Agency in Chicago. She had been there two months when Ben Fossell called her into his office to figure out why his computer screen kept blacking out. Seeing that she was an attractive young woman, Mr. Fossell decided to play matchmaker.

Have you met my son, Nathan, yet? he asked. He’s in our accounting department. Wasn’t interested in advertising, but one day he’ll be keeping our books.

Oh, yes, said Alice, we’ve met. He’s nice and he does like his numbers. I like numbers, but not accounting. Have you seen the new Cisco router? Not that we need one, but there’s something a girl can like.

…No, I haven’t, said Mr. Fossell, who then did some routing of his own to bring the conversation back to his original purpose. My son is single, you know.

Oh, I wish, said Alice. He’s handsome but he’s been dating that new guy in the mail room. What’s his name? Bradley? They’re cute together and normally I wouldn’t complain but when they wouldn’t stop sucking face at the bar last night I pretty much had to go home. Never go to a gay bar on margarita night. Did you know they have a drink there they call ‘The Hairy Chest?’

Unfortunately, that job only lasted about fifteen more seconds. But what a glorious fifteen seconds they were as Alice tried to figure out what was wrong with Mr. Fossell’s suddenly twitching facial muscles and rapidly reddening epidermis.

Alice’s parents, being, by definition, parents, didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary with their little girl until the second grade when, unexpectedly, the school called them in for thirteen parent-teacher conferences. They assumed she just liked to talk a lot – surely a good thing for a developing child. The problem wasn’t really the talking but the brutal honesty, and the school principal was not sure if Alice’s teacher, Mrs. Henriks, would even bother coming back from the psychiatrist this time. The principal recommended seeing a behavioral specialist who could guide Alice along the path to normal social interactions.

According to the specialist, the problem probably began sometime before birth. Alice’s father, Peter Morgan, had been thirty-seven when he finally got her mother pregnant, after years of trying. The specialist speculated that, at his age, Peter probably passed a random gene mutation that resulted in an extremely mild case of Asperger syndrome, though young Alice didn’t exhibit enough symptoms to really call it that. Nothing to worry about in general, but the social awkwardness she was likely to experience as she grew up could impact her for the rest of her life. However, a few years of expensive weekly sessions would probably go a long way towards curing that.

Naturally, Alice’s parents, being parents, didn’t want their daughter to be her own worst enemy as she grew into an adult. But they didn’t want her to think she wasn’t normal either, because, as far as they could tell, she was perfectly normal. So they decided to go full-on with the behavioral specialist.

Around that time, Alice’s mother discovered she had metastatic breast cancer. Suddenly, all other considerations, including Alice’s social issues, were secondary as the family spent their time and resources fighting the awful disease.

Alice always admired her mother. They both had the same hair, dark-brown and straight, and the same brown eyes. They were also both girls, so they could gang up on Dad and get whatever they wanted. For Alice, that usually meant ice cream after dinner. But, where Alice was only a child, and rough around the edges, she thought her mother was beautiful and elegant, with a kindness that she rarely saw in other people she met. Alice thought her mother could be a Disney princess for sure. So, even though Alice, at only eight years old, didn’t buy into the princess-needs-a-knight-to-rescue-her story, she didn’t argue when Mom tried to give her the fairy tale anyway by painting her room pink and turning it into an imaginary castle. It made Mom happy and that was good enough.

Unfortunately, by the time they discovered the cancer, it had already spread well beyond her breasts. Despite all their efforts, Alice’s mother died eight months later, only one day after Alice turned nine. They celebrated Alice’s birthday in a sterile white hospital room where Alice told her mom that the only present she would accept would be her mommy getting all better so they could go to Disneyland together and see Snow White and all the real princesses that she hoped to be like one day. There would be no point in going if her mom wasn’t there because, of course, it wasn’t really the princesses that Alice wanted to be like. Then Alice blew out the lone candle on a chocolate cupcake she held gently in her hands. Her mom smiled at her, said Happy birthday, and closed her eyes. Twelve hours later her body stopped fighting and she passed away.

Alice didn’t speak for the entire following day, or for several days after. But she was a smart girl and tougher than her teachers and her behavioral specialist and even her parents could have guessed. She knew she would see her mom again in Heaven so, even though she was sad, she didn’t worry. She also knew her dad needed her very much because he stopped spending time with his friends, even giving up his Thursday night bowling league (Mom called it the Beer-ing League); he stopped participating in church functions; he sometimes became cross over the smallest things, though never with her; and he cried softly in his room when he thought she was asleep for the night.

On one such night, after her father fell asleep, Alice sat up, thinking long and hard about the ideal way to make her dad a dad again. She knew from television that, aside from their children, men loved sports more than anything in the world. Surely, her dad would not be able to resist sharing his love of all things athletic with his only little girl.

She started small by asking her dad if she could watch a baseball game with him because she loved baseball ever since a few days ago when she and her friend Lisa played baseball with some other boys at the park and when Lisa threw the ball to Eric he missed catching it and it smacked him in the face, making everyone laugh except Eric, and she wondered if that happened in real baseball. Her dad, after asking her to slow down, take a breath, and organize her thoughts, said he would think about it. He must not have thought too long because that Saturday they were on their way to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field.

It was mid-May, warm enough to go without coats, but her dad made her wear one anyway because he said Wrigley Field is always twenty degrees colder in the shade. He was right, but the hot dogs and nachos kept them warm while he explained every aspect of the game to her, including the Cubs propensity to lose. She was going to tell him that it wasn’t as exciting as she hoped, as evidenced by that manager who kept walking out to the mound to replace Cubs pitchers every inning as if there was nothing else to do on a warm May day. Even though her dad was obviously having a good time, she thought that maybe next time they should try a fast-moving game, like soccer. But then he showed her the game-day program and she discovered baseball stats. Over the next few innings she absorbed every number of every player on both teams, fascinated by the meaning of statistics when applied to potential performance. When her dad wanted to leave after the seventh-inning stretch because the Cubs were down by four runs and would not be coming back, Alice informed him that, if the numbers were correct, the short stop was due, as long as the top of the order could set the table, you know, get the ducks on the pond and all that. Mystified, her dad sat back down. Five batters later the Cubs tied the game on a bases-clearing triple that landed just inside the right field foul line and died in the corner.

When they were done screaming their brains out with the crowd at the excitement of the play, Alice’s dad wrapped her up in huge bear hug. Encouraged, she immediately asked if they could attend more games that summer and her dad enthusiastically agreed. But while she felt good about the first steps in her dad’s recovery, she didn’t think that sitting around watching baseball games would be enough. If her dad was going to heal all the way, they needed to get busy.

One week later, the last week of school, Alice brought home a sign-up sheet for a summer co-ed soccer league. Her dad wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but she told him she would probably make lots of new friends, which, according to the school counselor, would be good for her social interactions. She also pointed out that the team needed a coach and she had already volunteered him for the job, telling the administrator of the league that he had dreamt of coaching soccer all his life and would be happy to helm any team his daughter was playing for. Even though Alice had never seen her dad so confused before, he agreed to coach the team.

They won the summer league easily on the spectacular play of their star forward, Alice Gwen Morgan. Like a chess player, Alice saw every player on the field at once, gauged their foot-speed and direction, and determined the best possible moves and their immediate outcomes, including where she should place the ball to slice it between the defenders and to her teammate with the best angle on the goal. She did this almost unconsciously; the instinctual play presented itself and she acted on it.

By the end of a summer filled with soccer and baseball games, Alice thought her dad was back to normal, or as normal as a man who lost his wife could get. But that didn’t stop her from enjoying the father-and-daughter-take-on-the-world lifestyle they had built up. In fact, Alice couldn’t imagine a different life. When she turned twelve, they bought expensive bicycles and rode them through Lincoln Park, along the lakefront in Chicago, and up to Wisconsin. When she turned sixteen they ran a half-marathon near Champaign, Illinois and hiked Mt. Whitney in California. The summer before she left for college, they went canyoneering in Utah. Her dad hurt his leg halfway through the trip, so they turned back, but he was fifty-five so Alice didn’t mind because she figured at fifty-five those kinds of things started to happen.

Her dad also had Vickie at home now. He met Vickie when Alice was thirteen and married her when Alice was fifteen. Alice liked Vickie because she understood the situation from day one, so she always let Alice and her dad have their adventures together. Now that Alice was off to college, she decided it was time for her dad and Vickie to have their own adventures together. Alice was proud of her dad and happy that she could help him enter middle-age without incident.

When Alice arrived at college, with her whole life ahead of her, a door open to an exciting but frightening wilderness, she suddenly realized how much she missed her mom. She thought her mom would have been proud of her daughter, not only for taking care of Dad, but for successfully making it out of high school without destroying the delicate lives of too many of her fellow teenagers with her curious social skills. So, on her first night in her first dorm room during her first year in college, Alice did something she had waited almost ten years to do.

She cried.

PART ONE

The Soft Lines of Her Face

Alice Morgan – Age 28

Spartan Race – East of Indianapolis, Indiana

ALICE BREATHED IN the cold April morning air, enjoying the earthy aromas that permeated the grounds of the 700-acre forest preserve – a sign of spring in full bloom. Around her, hundreds of runners milled about as they readied for their heats, while motivational rock music played on a massive sound system near the starting line. She wondered briefly if she should have copied her friends and worn running pants and a long-sleeved shirt. But no. Her warm-ups in the dirt parking lot had started the blood flowing and warmed her up, which she thought was appropriate since they called them warm-ups and what else you call them in any case? She supposed she could just call them blood-pumpers, but that might sound scary to children.

Looking at the slow trickle of runners falling over the last obstacle and huffing it across the finish line, she knew she would be fine with her perforated running shorts, t-shirt, and a sports bra that felt a little too tight. Soaking wet and covered in mud from head to toe, the finishers didn’t have a clean spot on their bodies. Some even bled from their legs, arms, and head. Runners with too much clothing on would regret it once they hit the first water hazard.

What are you smiling at? asked Erica Schaffer.

My advantage, of course, replied Alice. I’ve counted thirty-two finishers since we lined up for our heat and each one is drenched and filthy, which means you’re going to hate those long clothes while I’m running ahead, free as a bird and just as light. I mean, sure, you all look cute in your thermal runners and these guys over here keep checking you out – yeah, that’s right, we see you – but it can’t always be about fashion.

When she became a teenager, Alice discovered her own life outside of her relationship with her father. That life began with high school, where she met her best, and pretty much only friend, Erica. They met at the start of their sophomore year, in biology class, where Alice promptly informed Erica that she had seen her around and she really, really wanted to know if Erica had accidently bought the entire Lauren Conrad collection or was she just crushing on the fashionista or what? At first, Erica wanted nothing to do with Alice because she had no idea that Alice didn’t understand sarcasm. The real problem was, Erica wanted to own most of the collection but settled for knock-offs because she fit into a category Alice would have called larger. Alice didn’t care much about anyone’s weight. Unfortunately, Erica didn’t know that. But her attitude towards Alice changed after Tyler Colmes.

Tyler Colmes, a junior, made it to the junior-varsity basketball team, which only made him semi-popular, but still more popular than Erica. They sort-of knew each other because Erica clung to the fringes of a circle of girlfriends who hung out with Tyler and his friends. Early in the school year, Tyler surprised Erica when, in biology class, just before the teacher arrived, he asked her to the first school dance of the year.

Alice, who happened to sit behind Erica, said, without being asked, I would not say yes to that.

Most of the class heard and went silent. Erica and Tyler seemed at a loss for words, so Alice continued:

During gym I heard some of the boys say that Tyler is the only one on the team who hasn’t got any action yet and then someone suggested he just go for the fat one because that’s always a sure bet and at first I thought they meant Lydia Clausen because that connection just seems unavoidable but then I remembered that she graduated last year and now here we are and don’t you think you’re better than that?

What the hell is your problem? asked Erica.

Yeah, said Tyler. Shut up you stupid retard.

That brought a round of laughs from the class, but Erica looked horrified. Not that it mattered, though, because Alice had grown to hate the word retard. Rather than cause a scene in class, she stormed out and into the girl’s bathroom, where she sat on the toilet and clenched her fists again and again until her anger melted away to the point where she knew she wouldn’t cry. Then she straightened her glasses and marched back to class. The teacher promptly gave her a tardy slip.

Two weeks later, Erica unexpectedly asked Alice if she could partner with her for their frog dissection.

Why do you want to work with me? asked Alice.

You were right, said Erica. Tyler doesn’t like me. He just thought I would be easy and now it’s all over Facebook that we did it and we didn’t do anything!

I do not like Facebook, said Alice.

He was so angry when I said I wasn’t ready.

Tyler walked by at that exact moment and said to Erica, That figures. You prefer to hang out with the idiots.

The speed at which Erica’s fist launched from her side and into Tyler’s eye socket took even Alice by surprise. As Tyler went down, Alice replayed the image in her mind several times, but she could only see a vaguely fist-shaped blur.

Her name is Alice! said Erica, as Tyler smashed to the ground.

Alice turned to Erica and said, That was expertly done.

Thank you.

After serving her suspension, Erica decided she liked Alice.

For the rest of their high school careers, Alice and Erica stalked the halls of the school, enrolling in the same classes, liking the same boys, accompanying each other to dances when they didn’t have dates (which for Alice was almost never), and spending as much free time together as possible. Only when Alice joined the track team during her junior year did they spend more than a week apart.

After high school they attended different colleges, but they both returned to Chicago upon graduating and immediately looked each other up. Alice’s athletic lifestyle eluded Erica in college, but after four years away, gaining more weight than she’d ever had, Alice’s ways finally inspired Erica to get in shape, losing fifty pounds in the process and gaining confidence in both her professional and personal life. In fact, she had been dating a man named Michael Marsden for well over a year now. She had also been promoted to her first advertising project at Fossell, where she still worked, despite being the one responsible for convincing them to hire Alice. Besides creating advertising for Fossell, Erica kept up with her workouts and now sported a muscular body that somehow still came across as feminine, yet screamed I can kick your butt.

Much to Alice’s surprise, Erica had dragged out two other girls, kicking and screaming, to the Indiana Spartan race: Julie Templeton and Iris O’Connor.

At just over five foot six, Julie was, as Alice heard from many boys, a smoking-hot, raven-haired goddess with a body that made men weep. It turned out that Julie also knew it and had developed an attitude to complement her win in nature’s looks-lottery. So a lot of those boys struck out with her, which Alice figured was the real reason for all the weeping.

Julie and Erica shared an apartment on the north side, on Sheffield – near Wrigley Field, but far enough away from Alice’s apartment to require a cab during bad weather. Alice could never share an apartment with anyone, even Erica, and she didn’t understand how they did it; how they saw each other every day, shared a bathroom, a refrigerator, a flat-screen television, and even a little Shih Tzu curiously named Thunder. It helped that Julie spent most evenings tending bar at Kelly’s Irish Pub on Clark Street, giving Erica the run of the apartment. Then again, Erica was on her way to advertising star and recently hinted at trading up for a fancier place with Michael.

Iris was more like Alice, except that in contrast to Alice’s persistent outgoing nature, Iris was a Chicago-born Irish Catholic (red hair and all) so shy that sometimes she had to be re-introduced to friends she had already made. Iris also worked at the Fossell Advertising Agency, having been given Alice’s position upon her sudden departure. She felt terrible about it, but Alice assured her that she was okay with it and told her to make sure not to mention how incredibly gay Nathan Fossell was to his dad or, come to think of it, that Alice was the one who outed him in the first place.

Are you going to take that kind of talk from Alice? Erica asked Julie.

Yes, I am, said Julie. Because I not only look cute in my running outfit, I look totally hot.

Erica and Iris laughed, but Alice, being Alice, said, "Well, I wouldn’t up-vote you on Reddit. I think you look just okay and I think that’s confirmed by the guys giving Erica second and third looks and even Iris has a new