Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Dr. Alogore says to my blouse. I want to put my hand to my neckline, but stop myself in time. I feel the gaze of all my male colleagues resting on my modest sweater set. My grandma dresses less conservatively than I do, but I still get leers like I’m in lingerie. The way these guys look at me, I feel like they’re imagining me naked. Maybe they are. Yeah, I have big breasts. The rest of me is pretty curvy too. That doesn’t mean I should be treated any differently.
“If that’s all, let’s head out to lunch. My treat,” the professor says. Everyone murmurs gratefully except me. Dr. Alogore prefers lunch joints where the women dance on tables.
I grab my folder and scurry into the hall.
“Hey, Miranda,” one of my tall colleagues separates himself from the Dockers-wearing pack and comes to breathe down my neck. I turn and get a faceful of onion breath. He smiles like a shark, his eyes on my chest. “I’ll come up and help you collect that data.”
Ew.
“No, thank you,” I mutter and pull my cardigan closed. I’m not even baring cleavage. These guys are just creepers.
“Come on. I can help. It’s scary up there in the mountains this time of year,” he says with false concern. “We go up there together, and I can help you grab everything in record time. You can buy me dinner afterwards, to thank me.” His grin gets bigger. “I can help you with the findings, and we’ll split the credit, half and half.”
And there it is. A blatant grab for my research.
“Ugh, no thank you.” I hunch my shoulders and hug the folder to my front. “What, you think you can swoop in at the last minute and I’ll let you put your name above mine on the paper?”
He shrugs. “Makes sense, alphabetically—”
“No. I got this.” I duck my head and walk as fast as my legs can carry me. No one is cheating me out of my research. Not this time.
This paper could make the difference between another shitty year as a postdoc in Dr. Alogore’s lab and getting an actual professorial position somewhere. Anywhere. Of course, a professor position still won’t guarantee me respect in my field. I’ve seen enough women in science have their careers belittled on a daily basis to know I’ll be fighting for my equal rights every step of the way. Probably until the day I retire.
Never give up, never give in. That’s my motto.
I get out in Pecos and grab my empty canvas shopping bags to fill. Inside, I blink as my eyes adjust to the dimly lit, somewhat depressing market. I’ve been here before, so I know what to expect, but it still makes my skin crawl. Unswept concrete floors, ancient canned goods with old-fashioned price tags. Like any convenience market near an entry to a U.S. Forest, it carries extremely overpriced gas station fare. Loaves of Wonder Bread for almost five bucks, eight dollar jars of peanut butter.
I packed my own non-perishables in Albuquerque, so I head to the refrigerator case to grab a jug of milk, some eggs, bacon, and butter. That should be enough to get me by for the five days I plan to be up here.
I bring them up to the counter where an ancient man is talking to a local. He ignores me for a solid two minutes before he slowly drags the eggs toward the register while still gabbing away.
I clear my throat.
His companion, equally old, says goodbye and shuffles out. The owner turns and eyes me speculatively. Yes, his eyes drop to my cleavage. “What brings you up here, young lady? Isn’t the right time of year for fishing or hiking.”
“I’m headed to the research lab for a few days,” I say politely. It’s the exact same conversation we had last time I was here. Granted, that was six months ago, but still. I doubt they get a ton of women camping or hiking alone.
“Oh right, right. University of New Mexico, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
He stops punching numbers into the cash register and squints at me. “You be careful up there alone. You’ve heard about the missing women?”
I push away the dread that ripples through me. The only thing to fear is fear itself. Right?
“I’ve heard, yes. But I’ve got my dog with me. And he’s very protective.”
That may or may not be true. I have a furry German / Australian Shepherd mix who loves to play fetch. But he does have a ferocious-sounding bark.
“Well, you might have to protect your dog. You do know we have a bear problem in this forest, don’t you?”
Right, the bear problem. He told me about it the last time I was up here. As an ecologist, I rather dislike when humans presume the animals are the problem. Wouldn’t our overpopulation and the shrinkage of wildlife corridors be the actual problem?