Chapter Text
Felicity groans as she swings her arm out, attempting to find the source of the offensively loud buzzing coming from her bedside table. Her hand finally reaches the culprit, grabbing her phone and squinting as she looks to see where the off button is located. It has been weeks since she has needed an alarm and she’s remiss to admit that sleeping in is one perk of her recent unemployment. Probably the only perk apart from no longer dealing with Dennis, chairman of the board at Palmer Tech. She graduated from MIT at age 19, with a double major, mind you, and yet here she is, 24 and jobless. She wants to blame it all on Dennis and the board, but she knows she carries some of the blame. Her mother warned her, her few female professors warned her, older women in the industry have talked about it all the time: don’t fly too close to the sun. Yet, Felicity couldn’t help it. She was just too smart, too dedicated, too excited, and too inexperienced. At least in dealing with a board made up predominantly of older men. Her ideas were good. Great, in fact. Ray Palmer, her CEO, loved them and, along with her engineer Curtis Holt, they were almost a reality. They just needed some more funding. Unfortunately, Ray Palmer did not have say in how all the money could be used. The board, and Dennis, didn’t think there was a large enough financial return to warrant more money. Apparently, helping paralyzed people walk wasn’t a worthy return on investment.
Felicity shakes her head and sits up. She has to stop thinking about it. Two months later and she is still angry. Granted, Dennis pretty much had her blackballed from other technology companies in the city. Ray promised to do what he could to change those opinions, but his fiancé, Anna, has been in the hospital after a dangerous car accident and he has been a little distracted. She doesn’t blame him, but it is why she is in this position today. With her alarm blaring, waking her up at 6:00 am to prepare her for her 8:00 am interview. Felicity knows she should be grateful for an interview, any interview that at least lets her work with technology, but this isn’t exactly a hands-on job. As much as she would likes talking about computers and code, it has always been with other tech nerds. This job, though, this job would have her talking to teenagers. While she had built her first computer at age seven, Felicity had a feeling these kids weren’t going to be as experienced. Nevertheless, she needs a job. Even if it is teaching.
Felicity forces herself out of the bed and into the shower, the familiar scent of her citrus shampoo calming her. Her nerves about the interview washing away, at least for a few minutes, with the sudsy water rushing down the drain. She was brilliant. An actual genius. She was capable and talented. She was Felicity Smoak, dang it, and she was going to rock the hell out of that interview. So, she steps out of the shower, dries her hair, and puts on a light pink button up shirt and black pencil skirt. With the final touches of her signature ponytail and colorful lipstick, Felicity feels confident and ready to go. She blasts the Hamilton Soundtrack on her way over to Starling Prep, arriving with time to spare. Opening the front doors, she sees the office to her right and steps in.
“Welcome to Starling Prep, how may I help you this morning?” asks the young gentleman sitting at the front desk.
“Hi…Jerry,” Felicity responds, reading his nametag. “My name is Felicity Smoak and I am here to interview with Principal Diggle for a job. Well, not just any job. The Computer Science job. Not like IT, Computer Science, but teaching Computer Science. You know, teaching teenagers, or well, hellions, as I like to call them. Oh my gosh, I did not mean to say that! I love teenagers. Biggest fan, right here.” Felicity takes a breath, trying to calm herself and praying that Jerry ignores everything she just said.
Jerry cracks a smile, obviously trying to hold in his laughter. “Of course, Ms. Smoak. Mr Diggle is expecting you. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Great, thank you.” Felicity bites her tongue to hold in another babble just waiting to escape and sits down on the arm chair across from Jerry’s desk. The arm chair reminds her that this is a private school, a very expensive private school, and nothing like the schools she went to in the seedier parts of Vegas growing up. Just before Felicity’s thoughts spiral into why she may not actually be suited for this job, a throat clears above her. She looks up and sees a muscular man with dark skin and a kind smile, holding out his hand.
“Ms. Smoak? I am John Diggle. Thank you so much for meeting with me this morning.” Felicity accepts his hand and stands up after a firm, yet surprisingly gentle handshake for such a large man.
“Hello, Principal Diggle. I am excited to be here,” she responds and follows him into the office at the end of the small hallway next to Jerry’s desk. A quick look around and Felicity learns that Mr. Diggle is neat, organized, and a veteran, if the picture of him and a slightly smaller man with arms around each other, uniforms on, is anything to go by. She sits in the chair across from Mr. Diggle after he gestures toward it and notices a framed picture of him, a beautiful woman, and small girl on the desk.
“Your family?” she asks.
“Yes, this is my wife, Lyla and daughter Sarah. Lyla is actually the Physical Education teacher here.”
“That must be wonderful, getting to work with your wife,” Felicity says with a genuine smile.
“It can be. While it is convenient, she has a front seat to all of my decisions, good and bad. She is the best sounding board I could ask for, though.” John Diggle glances at the photo, smiling, for another short minute before turning back to Felicity, apparently ready to start the interview.
“Your resume is spectacular, Ms. Smoak. It’s not often we see MIT graduates applying to teach and certainly not ones who used to be top coders for Fortune 100 companies like Palmer Tech. You are definitely over qualified. So, this begs my first, and perhaps my main, question. Why do you want to teach?” Felicity had prepared for this question, but she found herself unable to lie to the man in front of her. Something about her made her want to trust him. Transparency was apparently her new middle name.
“To be honest, Mr. Diggle, I never thought I would teach. I love writing code and creating new technology. Palmer Tech was my dream job. The reality was a bit more difficult. There’s a glass ceiling for women in technology, as you may know. I wanted the company to do more than it was ready to do, more than the board was willing to fund and I was eventually let go because of it. It is difficult to find a new job in technology when the board members of your previous company are saying unkind, and untrue, things about you to all their business associates. After weeks of applying to tech jobs, I had two options: I could move to another city or I could apply here. I like Starling City, Mr. Diggle. Over the past few years it has begun to feel like home. I already started over when I moved from Las Vegas to Boston. I don’t want to start over again. Also, the more I think about it, the more I hope that there are more and greater opportunities for women in the technology world in a few years. By teaching, perhaps I can help create some of the minds that will break through that glass ceiling.” Once again, Felicity takes a breath to calm down and sits back in her chair, realizing that in she had moved to the edge during her speech. She braves a look at the Principal’s face and sees him looking thoughtfully at her.
“Thank you for your honesty, Ms. Smoak. We are looking for teachers who are passionate about what they teach because we hope to create passionate learners among our students. It is evident that you have the kind of desire we are looking for here at Starling Prep. I have a few more options about your teaching style and how you would handle certain classroom situations and then you can feel free to ask me any questions you may have.” Felicity nods her head, reaching into her bag for her notebook and red pen to take notes.
In no time, Felicity is at ease with the slightly older man. He is kind and obviously cares greatly about his students and teachers. After their hour-long interview, Felicity finds herself excited about the idea of working here, and even excited about teaching. She puts her notebook and pen away, picks up her purse and begins to stand as John walks over to the office door.
“If you don’t mind, Ms. Smoak, I have asked one of our teachers to give you a tour of the school. That way you can get a feel for the place and ask him any questions you would like. Hopefully this will help you decide if Starling Prep is the right fit for you.”
“That sounds wonderful, Mr. Diggle, and please, call me Felicity.”
“Felicity, then, thank you,” he responds as he sticks his head out the door and says “we’re ready.” The most handsome man she has ever seen walks in and gives her a big smile. There’s something familiar about him, but Felicity is too awestruck by his looks to be able to place it. A hand stuck out in front of her shakes her out of her reverie and she reaches forward to take the offered hand.
“Felicity Smoak? Hi, I’m Oliver Queen.”