The Wattpad Game

13. Fanfiction

"'Are you afraid of poison?' said the old woman, 'look, I will cut the apple in two pieces, you eat the red cheek, and I will eat the white.'

Now the apple had been so artfully made that only the red half was poisoned. Snow-White longed for the beautiful apple, and when she saw that the peasant woman was eating part of it she could no longer resist, and she stuck her hand out and took the poisoned half. She barely had a bite in her mouth when she fell to the ground dead."
- The Brothers Grimm.

*

"Dearest M,
I have the pleasure of informing you that your book has been picked among a sea of other stories for my next review. All you need to do is accept my kind offer, and I shall start immediately.

Best regards,
Jane T."

This just comes up to me. I read the message again and again, then I check Jane's profile; she seems to be genuine—an elderly woman whose husband had passed away recently and who now only spends her time helping others.

Not just any kind of woman either; an ex-editor from one of the biggest publishing houses in the industry will review my book for free. Right, this can't be true! There is one rule on Wattpad: nobody does anything for free there if it's not for a follow, a read, or a shout out, and she asks nothing in exchange.

Still, this is a great opportunity for me because I aim my book for the Wattys, but deep down, I know I won't win it. I also prepare it for the boot camp, but I'll never be chosen; let's face it. Nobody will ever want of it, not even for a reading list not even for anything while this. This can help me have it traditionally published.

This is torture, so I head my thoughts over her review book. All seems to be well worded, although she doesn't give any feedback on how to improve, but that's already half the solution.

Should I? Or shouldn't I?

I should go for it. As I am typing my answer, my alarm clock rings right into my left ear. It's already 7 o'clock; I must have forgotten that I woke up at 5 a.m. to go through all my notifications. I reply with a quick "Yes, please, and thank you, Jane," before I head to the bathroom. I spend fifteen minutes in it, and fifteen minutes more to pick my clothes and get dressed, then another ten minutes to get breakfast ready and scoff it down within five minutes to continue checking my comments. It's good when your parents work overnight; I feel like living all by myself there.

Ten minutes walk to the bus station, and my eyes are still glued to my phone while my arm automatically raises to call the bus to stop. Multitasking at its best, right!

One reader commented: "I love your story, but I think you worded this wrong."

Right, I screenshot this for later.

Another one wrote: "What? I think you mean vanish, not varnish!"

Obviously, that's what happened when you posted an update past midnight.

There I am, right in front of my university, to study. As I pass across the different buildings, I look at the art students with dreamy eyes. I should have picked Art. Then, on my right, are the literacy students with their heads buried in their books. I should have done literature too, but no. When you have my parents and you're in the French school system, you are bound to do something with science or you'll be ridiculed for being dumb. Thus, here I am in my medical class room.

The time slows down here; everything is just knowledge for my sponge head to absorb. There is nothing new, nothing to challenge, just food to eat, and luckily it is time to eat.

I know I told Diallo about my healthy diet, but in truth, I can't resist an eight-euro baguette stuffed with mayonnaise, roasted chicken, and potatoes. Way too many delicious carbs, but who cares? Who cares when I'm eating it alone with my can of Coke in my favourite spot of all, the tiniest garden of all at the back of the university building, and a date with my many pending edits?

"Hey, that's Emilie Do; where are your parents' spring rolls, girl?" A voice came from behind the bushes. My feet rise up from the ground with fear in my stomach as I look around to see Robert with his two buddies, Edouard and Olivier. I rush to pack my bag to get away from them, but they already circle me.

"Emilie, are you really eating a sandwich? That's exotic for you!" Edouard said with his disgusting breath right to my face.

"Leave me alone!" I say as I shove him out of my way.

However, Olivier catches my arm and pulls me back. "Not too fast, Donut Emilie!" Only for my bag to fall open and Robert to pick up my phone from the grass.

"Give it back to me, Robert!" I snap in my scariest voice. That jerk holds my life in his hands, and I can't do anything because the two others block me from reaching him. I try to move in any direction, but they corner me each time.

"Dude, you want to burn your parents!"

Those words he says as he is now looking into my opened Wattpad app freeze me on the spot.

"That's your Wattpad account, right?" he says as the two others hurry in to also check. "'My parents will have to live in burning flames forever.' You want to burn your parents, Emilie? There must be something seriously wrong with you to write stuff like this."

Tears build up in my eyes in this instant. I couldn't even answer him. I'm just here staring at them having fun at "Of Tears and Fire."

"Give it back!" was all that could come out of my mouth. Faint words drown in their loud laughter. I repeat it again, but they don't pay attention to it. I can see them taking photos of my phone while I fall on my knee.

Robert throws my phone at me with a chuckle. "Get back to burning your parents, Em!" Then they walk away as my can of Coke left on the table falls over my head.

It couldn't get any worse than this.