be　joining　our　family。”　Kyle　and　Jill　looked　at　me　pointedly。　“OK；　I
  guess　technically　it’s　a　Harrison　baby；　but　it　will　be　a　Sachs　at
  heart。　To　Kyle　and　Jill；　future　perfect　parents　to　the　world’s　most
  perfect　child。”　We　all　clinked　soda　cans　and　coffee　mugs　and　toasted
  the　grinning　couple　and　my　sister’s　twenty…four…inch　waist。　I
  cleaned　up　by　throwing　the　entire　contents　of　the　table　directly
  into　a　garbage　bag　while　my　mom　tried　to　pressure　Jill　to　name　the
  baby　after　various　dead　relatives。　Kyle　sipped　Coffee　and　looked
  pleased　with　himself；　and　just　before　midnight　my　dad　and　I　sneaked
  off　to　his　study　for　a　game。
  He　turned　up　the　white…noise　machine　he　used　when　he　had　patients
  during　the　day；　both　to　block　out　the　sounds　of　the　household　from
  them　and　to　keep　anyone　else　in　the　house　from　hearing　what　was
  discussed　in　his　office。　Like　any　good　shrink；　my　dad　had　placed　a
  gray　leather　couch　in　the　far　corner；　so　soft　I　liked　to　rest　my
  head　on　the　armrest；　and　three　chairs　that　angled　forward　and　held　a
  person　in　a　kind　of　fabric　sling。　Womblike；　he　assured　me。　His　desk
  was　sleek　and　black　and　topped　with　a　flat…screen　monitor；　and　the
  matching　black　leather　chair　was　high…backed　and　very　plush。　A　wall
  of　psychology　books　encased　in　glass；　a　collection　of　bamboo　stalks
  in　a　very　tall　crystal　vase　on　the　floor；　and　some　framed　colorblock
  prints—the　only　real　color　in　the　room—pleted　the　futuristic
  look。　I　flopped　on　the　floor　between　the　couch　and　his　desk；　and　he
  did　the　same。
  “So；　tell　me　what’s　really　going　on；　Andy；”　he　said　as　he　handed　me
  a　little　wooden　tile　holder。　“I’m　sure　you’re　feeling　really
  overwhelmed　right　now。”
  I　picked　my　seven　tiles　and　carefully　arranged　them　in　front　of　me。
  “Yeah；　it’s　been　a　pretty　crazy　couple　weeks。　First　moving；　then
  starting。　It’s　a　weird　place；　hard　to　explain。　It’s　like；　everyone’s
  beautiful　and　thin　and　wearing　gorgeous　clothes。　And　they　really　do
  seem　nice　enough—everybody’s　been　really　friendly。　Almost　like
  they’re　all　on　serious　prescription　drugs。　I　don’t　know　。　。　。”
  “What？　What　were　you　going　to　say？”
  “I　can’t　put　my　finger　on　it。　There’s　just　this　feeling　that　it’s
  all　a　house　of　cards　that’s　going　to　e　crashing　down　around　me。　I
  can’t　shake　the　feeling　that　it’s　ridiculous　to　be　working　for
  afashion　magazine；　you　know？　The　work’s　been　a　little　mindless　so
  far；　but　I　don’t　even　care。　It’s　challenging　enough　because　it’s　all
  new；　you　know？”
  He　nodded。
  “I　know　it’s　a　‘cool’　job；　but　I　keep　wondering　how　it’s　preparing
  me　forThe　New　Yorker　。　I　must　just　be　looking　for　something　to　go
  wrong；　because　so　far　it　seems　too　good　to　be　true。　Hopefully；　I’m
  just　crazy。”
  “I　don’t　think　you’re　crazy；　sweetie。　I　think　you’re　sensitive。　But
  I　have　to　agree；　I　think　you　lucked　out　with　this　one。　People　go
  their　entire　lives　and　don’t　see　the　things　you’ll　see　this　year。
  Just　think！　Your　first　job　out　of　college；　and　you’re　working　for
  the　most　important　woman　at　the　most　profitable　magazine　at　the
  biggest　magazine　publishing　pany　in　the　entire　world。　You’ll　get
  to　watch　it　all　happen；　from　the　top　down。　If　you　just　keep　your
  eyes　open　and　your　priorities　in　order；　you’ll　learn　more　in　one
  year　than　most　people　in　the　industry　will　see　in　their　entire
  careers。”　He　placed　his　first　word　in　the　middle　of　the　board；　JOLT。
  “Not　bad　for　an　opening　move；”　I　said　and　counted　its　worth；　doubled
  it　because　the　first　word　always　went　on　a　pink　star；　and　started　a
  scorecard。　Dad：　22　points；　Andy：　0。　My　letters　weren’t　showing　much
  promise。　I　added　an　A；　M；　and　E　to　the　L　and　accepted　my　paltry　six
  points。
  “I　just　want　to　make　sure　you　give　it　a　fair　shake；”　he　said；
  switching　his　tiles　around　on　his　holder。　“The　more　I　think　about
  it；　the　more　I’m　convinced　this　is　going　to　mean　big　things　for
  you。”
  “Well；　I　sure　hope　you’re　right；　because　I　have　enough　paper　cuts
  from　wrapping　to　last　a　long；　long　time。　There　better　be　more　to　the
  whole　thing　than　that。”
  “There　will　be；　sweetie；　there　will　be。　You’ll　see。　It　might　feel
  like　you’re　doing　silly　stuff；　but　trust　me；　you’re　not。　This　is　the
  start　of　something　fantastic；　I　can　feel　it。　And　I’ve　studied　up　on
  your　boss。　This　Miranda　sounds　like　a　tough　woman；　no　doubt　about
  it；　but　I　think　you’re　going　to　like　her。　And　I　think　she’s　going　to
  like　you；　too。”
  He　placed　the　word　TOWEL　down　using　my　E　and　looked　satisfied。
  “I　hope　you’re　right；　Dad。　I　really　hope　you’re　right。”
  “She’s　the　editor　in　chief　ofRunway　—you　know；　the　fashion
  magazine？”　I　whispered　urgently　into　the　phone；　trying　valiantly　not
  to　get　frustrated。
  “Oh；　I　know　which　one　you　mean！”　said　Julia；　a　publicity　assistant
  for　Scholastic　Books。　“Great　magazine。　I　love　all　those　letters
  where　girls　write　in　their　embarrassing　period　stories。　Are　those
  for　real？　Do　you　remember　reading　the　one　where—”
  “No；　no；　not　the　one　for　teenagers。　It’s　most　definitely　for　grown
  women。”　In　theory；　at　least。　“Have　you　really　never　seenRunway　？”Is
  it　humanly　possible　that　she　hasn’t？　I　wondered。　“Anyway；　it’s
  spelled　P…R…I…E…S…T…L…Y。　Miranda；　yes；”　I　said　with　infinite
  patience。　I　wondered　how　she’d　react　if　she　knew　I　actually　had
  someone　on　the　line　who’d　never　heard　of　her。　Probably　not　well。
  “Well；　if　you　could　get　back　to　me　as　soon　as　possible；　I’dreally
  appreciate　it；”　I　told　Julia。　“And　if　a　senior　publicist　gets　in
  anytime　soon；please　have　her　call　me。”
  It　was　a　Friday　morning　in　the　middle　of　December　and　the　sweet；
  sweet　freedom　of　the　weekend　was　only　ten　hours　away。　I　had　been
  trying　to　convince　a　fashion…oblivious　Julia　at　Scholastic　that
  Miranda　Priestly　really　was　someone　important；　someone　worth　bending
  rules　and　suspending　logic　for。　This　proved　significantly　more
  difficult　than　I　had　anticipated。　How　could　I　have　known　that　I’d
  have　to　explain　the　weight　of　Miranda’s　position　to　influence
  someone　who’d　never　even　heard　of　the　most　prestigious　fashion
  magazine　on　earth—or　its　famous　editor？　In　my　four　short　weeks　as
  Miranda’s　assistant；　I’d　already　figured　out　that　such
  weight…throwing　and　favor…currying　was　merely　part　of　my　job；　but
  usually　the　person　I　was　attempting　to　persuade；　intimidate；　or
  otherwise　pressure　yielded　pletely　at　the　mere　mention　of　my
  infamous　boss’s　name。
  Unfortunately　for　me；　Julia　worked　for　an　educational　publishing
  house　where　someone　like　Nora　Ephron　or　Wendy　Wasserstein　was　much
  likelier　to　get　VIP　treatment　than　someone　known　for　her　impeccable
  taste　in　fur。　I　inherently　understood　this。　I　tried　to　remember　all
  the　way　back　to　a　time　before　I　had　ever　heard　of　Miranda
  Priestly—five　weeks　earlier—and　couldn’t。　But　I　knew　that　such　a
  magical　time　had　existed。　I　envied　Julia’s　indifference；　but　I　had　a
  job　to　do；　and　she　wasn’t　helping。
  The　fourth　book　in　that　wretched　Harry　Potter　series　was　due　to　be
  released　the　next　day；　a　Saturday；　and　Miranda’s　ten…year…old　twin
  daughters　each　wanted　one。　The　first　copies　wouldn’t　arrive　in
  stores　until　Monday；　but　I　had　to　have　them　in　my　hands　on　Saturday
  morning—mere　minutes　after　they　were　released　from　the　warehouse。
  After　all；　Harry　and　the　crew　had　to　catch　a　private　flight　to
  Paris。
  My　thoughts　were　interrupted　by　the　phone。　I　picked　it　up　as　I
  always　did　now　that　Emily　trusted　me　enough　to　speak　to　Miranda。　And
  boy；　did　we　speak—probably　in　the　vicinity　of　two　dozen　times　a　day。
  Even　from　afar；　Miranda　had　managed　to　creep　into　my　life　and
  pletely　take　over；　barking　orders　and　requests　and　demands　at　a
  rapid…fire　pace　from　sevenA　。M。　until　I　was　finally　allowed　to　leave
  at　nineP　。M。
  “Ahn…dre…ah？　Hello？　Is　anyone　there？　Ahn…dre…ah！”　I　jumped　out　of　my
  seat　the　moment　I　heard　her　pronounce　my　name。　It　took　a　moment　to
  remember　and　accept　that　she　was　not；　in　fact；　in　the　office—or　even
  in　the　country；　and　for　the　time　being；　at　least；　I　was　safe。　Emily
  had　assured　me　that　Miranda　was　pletely　unaware　that　Allison　had
  been　promoted　or　I　had　been　hired；　that　these　were　insignificant
  details　lost　on　her。　As　long　as　someone　answered　the　phone　and　got
  her　what　she　needed；　that　person’s　actual　identity　was　irrelevent。
  “I　simply　do　not　understand　what　takes　you　so　long　to　speak　after
  you　pick　up　the　phone；”　she　stated。　From　any　other　person　on　earth
  that　would　have　sounded　whiny；　but　from　Miranda　it　sounded
  appropriately　cold　and　firm。　Just　like　her。　“In　case　you　haven’t