Girl Most Likely To by Poonam Sharma

and financial modeling. For you, it’ll be lots of typing and photocopying. Grab that pen. Once I print out these financial statements, we’ll be able to get started.”

10
    I n our awkward years, as much as in the others, self-perception is what matters most. Aged ten, I considered myself to be approximately as swanlike as a bullfrog. The notion was cemented for me at a fateful dinner party hosted by my parents. After clearing my plate, I rose from the sofa and headed for the kitchen. Surely, I would impress my mother and her friends with the stainlessness of my white dress. They would shower me with praise and admonish the other children to learn from my example. But on my way to the kitchen I was sidetracked by an uncle who beckoned me to solve the following riddle.
    “Darling Vina, tell me.” He overacted for the benefit of a circle of adults. “What has a big mouth but never speaks?”
    “Auntie Neela?” I replied. It was one of my earliest demonstrations of an inability to censor myself.
    A roar of laughter erupted around me, like icy snowballs being hurled from every direction. The correct answer, my uncle would explain after recovering from a belly-grabbing, knee-slapping fit of raucous laughter was “A Jar.” I felt my throat getting hot, and my eyes welling up with tears. For the first time, I was aware of a tightness on the right side of my neck that felt like the tugging of an invisible noose. When I turned to run, another adult drew everyone’s attention to the stain across my backside. Without noticing, I’d been sitting on a plate of food. It took all my strength not to dissolve into a puddle of Vina on the floor. I didn’t know whether they were laughing because of what I had said or what I had sat in. I did know that by the time I reached the safety of my room, I noticed I had peed myself.
    They say that the universe will keep reteaching a lesson until the person is ready to learn it. The first time I ignored this lesson about the importance of self-censorship, I wound up wetting my pants. This time around, I feared, the consequences could be much worse.
     
    New rule: On less than six hours’ sleep, I am no longer allowed to speak to anyone.
    Maybe it was the fact that we had been crunching numbers until three a.m. Maybe it was that triple shot of espresso. Whatever the reason, first thing Tuesday morning, I marched swiftly into Alan’s office, threw my shoulders back and jammed my foot directly into my mouth.
    “Not that you’re gonna need this, what with your inside source in Taiwan and all, ” I blurted while raising an eyebrow suggestively, “but here’s our report on Luxor’s proposed acquisition of that facility. It’s not a sound investment. Needless to say, therefore, I don’t think that we should buy the stock.”
    Alan motioned toward his speakerphone.
    “Hello? Alan? Are you still there?” a heavily accented voice leaped forth.
    “Yes, Yokuto. I’m still here,” Alan replied, taking a deep breath and glaring me out of the room. “Our line must have gotten crossed with someone else’s for a moment. I’m with you now…”
    I’m sorry, I mouthed. I placed the report on his desk, then backed slowly out of the room like a jewel thief who’d been spotted coming in through a window.
     
    Just after the close of business that day, Luxor made their announcement. They had finalized an agreement to buy the Taiwanese facility. Since there wasn’t enough space underneath my desk to accommodate me, I sat perfectly still, trying my best to camouflage into my chair, when Denny appeared in my office. Palms pointed outward, he leaned across my desk like a perched seal, smiling.
    “They made the investment anyway,” he said. “At nine a.m. today. The stock is gonna soar at the open of the market tomorrow!”
    I sank deeper into my chair. Did this mean that they would fire me because I made the wrong recommendation? Or would they be in too good a mood to fire me over something as