{WATTYS 2021/2022 SHORTLIST}{Editor's Pick} {Featured Story}
One girl. Two boys. An impossible choice.
Stella LaFever, a theatre student from California, can't wait to spend a summer in Newport, Rhode Island, with her best friend. She is in despera...
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Chapter Song: Matches by Britney Spears and the BSB
After eating a quick breakfast with my grandparents, I took Leona's old truck into downtown Newport, following tree-lined streets until I arrived at the gates of Salve Regina University.
It looked less like a college campus and more like the Palace of Versailles. I had no idea how much you'd have to spend in tuition to go here, but I figured it was considerably more than what I paid at San Diego State.
I checked my makeup in the visor mirror, adding a layer of berry lipstick. I tried to avoid looking at or touching my neck, but I couldn't stop myself.
My fingers found the small lump nestled beside my windpipe.
When I'd showed the lump to my mom three months ago, she thought it was just a swollen lymph node. "Nothing to worry about, Stella. You're probably just coming down with something. Take your vitamins and drink Kombucha. You'll be fine."
Nothing to worry about. You'll be fine. These were my mom's answers to everything.
I knew something was wrong—something that a gallon of Kombucha couldn't fix—but it took another month before I went to the doctor.
Then there was the ultrasound. Followed closely by the giant needle jammed in my neck for the biopsy.
My understudy played Angelique, the Angel of Death, in our school production of All That Jazz. Meanwhile, I went home with a band-aid on my neck and a piece of paper that ruined my life.
Don't think about that, Stella. Don't you dare.
I forced myself to look in the tiny mirror.
"Right now, you are Babette," I told the girl staring back at me. "A sexy woman who was transformed into a feather duster by a spell. And Babette doesn't have a diagnosis. She has feather dusters for hands and lives in an enchanted castle."
I slammed the visor and grabbed my neatly organized acting binder containing my CV and professional headshots and headed off towards the theatre.
I shouldn't be nervous. I'd auditioned for lead roles at USC before, but my brain didn't seem to care. My heart was hammering like it was my first show.
This school was...intimidating. Wealth had a way of making itself known in Newport. It stood on every street corner and dock, following behind summer tourists. Unspeaking yet as keen as the Atlantic breeze.
The theatre was grand, and I walked with stiff legs to a tableclothed check-in table where a man in a sharp noir suit sat with folded hands.
