The Flynn Effect

48 | motherly instinct

Jo

I BLINK AT the screen of my laptop after what seems like the hundredth time and my finger lingers on the cursor again.

ENTRY ENDS IN TWO DAYS.

After a moment of hesitation, I let out a deep breath and run my hands down my face.

Miss Anderson's voice echoes in my ears again as my eyes shift from the flyer she'd given me the other day to the website displaying the write-a-thon on the screen.

You've got real talent and I know so many people would eat this up. This is gold.

I grab my journal and read through it, scrutinizing everything I've ever written and I frown. What if I'm actually not good enough? Not as good as she says I am?

Below me, King barks as if he's encouraging me to make that move I'm scared to make and I pick him up from the floor and run my hands through his fur.

"You think I'll qualify? What if they think it's a pile of crap?"

He barks again, wagging his tail back and forth and nudges my arm with his nose.

"You're right," I say, like we speak the same language. "I should just go to bed."

A knock raps on the door and a second later, mom's head pops in. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." I nod, placing king back on the floor and moving my laptop aside. Mum walks in and shuts the door before taking a seat on my bed. She's holding a basket of laundry—Drew's rumpled clothes—and I frown when I take in her appearance.

"It's almost midnight. You're doing laundry now?"

She shrugs and drops the basket on the floor. "I slept way too early and now I'm wide awake, so I need to get something doing. Your grandma isn't exactly the best company when she's half-asleep."

I smile a little and slyly eye my overflowing basket but she catches me quickly and snorts. "I wouldn't do your brother's without doing yours so you can drop your eyebrows now." She glances at the opened laptop on my bed. "What are you working on?"

"This." I hand her the flyer from school and she reads through it before glancing back at the laptop.

"Well, have you turned yours in?"

"Technically I need to apply first, send in a sample based on a topic of theirs and then wait to get their results to see if I'm qualified enough to turn an authentic write up in." I pause and frown. "And I haven't done any of that."

"Why not? You showed me this at the hospital," she says, gesturing to my journal. "You're amazing, honey."

"What if I'm not amazing enough? What if I don't get a feedback?" I may not be so confident in what I write but that's probably because I never give out my work for others to read. I only give grandma and that's because she never criticizes me. I gave mum my journal at the hospital because I felt a burst of encouragement when she made that comment about being proud of having us both but self-motivation only lasts for so long. I gave Daniel and I regret it. Flynn has snooped around every now and then and Miss Anderson saw my poem by accident. That's it. And now, I'm about to show it off to a bunch of people I have no idea of. It's daunting.