Take Me Back To That Day: A Samcedes Story

Chapter 7: Club Red

Mercedes' eyes ran across the words, flying through the paragraphs. Flip page. Her eyes flew open. She gasped, raising an eyebrow as her mouth slowly gaped open. She continued to devour the words until she found the final period of the page. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and finally raised her eyes to meet a pair of green ones looking expectantly back at her.

"So..." Sam began, spinning a pen between his fingers. "What do you think?" He was sitting across from her in the campus café, the hood of his red Richter sweater up over his head, with a tuft of blonde hair peeking out. A notebook lay open in front of him on the table, but his focus was entirely on Mercedes' reaction.

Mercedes put down the manuscript, an inch-thick spiral-bound stack of paper. "Wow. Just... wow. That was amazing. And that was just the second chapter!" She flipped through the remaining pages left unread.

Sam broke into a grin. "Really? You think so? I wasn't sure about the beginning. For my first draft, I thought it was a little shaky and confusing, but I changed it up, changed the pace, added more detail. I dunno, you didn't think I was going too fast in the first chapter, did you?" He used his pen to scratch his head underneath his hood as he rambled. "I think I might have been a little too anxious with—"

"Sammy." Mercedes hit his forearm with his own manuscript. "Quit it. This is amazing. I'm not just trying to be nice. Seriously, this is some first-class stuff. By the first page, I was hooked. Action right from the beginning. I definitely want to read more. I'm stealing this thing away from you." She joked, pretending to stuff it in her bag.

Sam laughed. "Go ahead. Take it. I want you to read more and let me know how it is. I need another opinion besides Dr. Goldey's." He twirled the pen intricately between his fingers.

Mercedes' eyes skimmed over the next chapter. "This is amazing, Sam. It's something out of a published novel. I could totally see this on the New York Times Bestsellers list."

Sam scratched his nose, trying to hide a faint blush. "You really think someone still in college could pull that off?"

"Christopher Paolini was a teenager when he released one of the best fantasy novels out there," Mercedes offered with a smirk.

"Yeah, but he was a genius who graduated high school at the age of 15... I'm a dyslexic jock." He lowered his head.

"You were dyslexic. But look at you now! Writing stuff like this!" She held up the manuscript. "It doesn't matter if you're a football player or not. Your work speaks for itself, and that's what counts."

Sam let out a sigh. "Is it enough, though?"

Mercedes leaned back in her seat. "Well, you'll never know unless you put this out there." She put a finger down on the pages.

"Yeah..." Sam started absently rubbing his chin. "Dr. Goldey mentioned a few publishers that might consider taking on a sci-fi novel."

Mercedes gave him a sharp nod. "There you go. You're on your way."

"I... I don't know. Just because I get this thing to a publisher doesn't mean it'll work. I'm still not sure if I'm cut out for this." Sam rubbed the back of his neck.

"Nothing is set in stone. You have time to figure this out. Now you know you have options, not just the one everyone is forcing on you. That's the first step to realizing your potential." Mercedes nodded.

Sam stared into Mercedes' eyes in silence. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, but his green eyes seemed to leer right into her soul. She was almost getting uncomfortable under his gaze when she saw a grin spread across his face. "Thank you, Cedes... really. Thanks a lot."