Forbidden Literature

1 | Harrington Writing Convention

Don't throw up. Don't throw up.

My anxious thoughts consumed me as I twisted the tie on my black dress around and around my finger—probably not the best idea since it's not even close to being cheap. Regardless I didn't pull away. After all I am at possibly the biggest ceremony of my life—the announcement ceremony for the Harrington Writing Convention.

Once every year the biggest publishing company in Kansas, Harrington Publishing, comes to a lavish hotel in Kansas City to host their annual writing convention. This year they extended it to last for an entire week rather than a few days like they usually do. On top of that, they cut down the amount of universities that are allowed to enter the convention to five, including my own school, Bulfort University. Only thirty-five candidates are allowed in total. My school had over sixty applicants alone.

So yeah, I was a nervous wreck.

When Harrington Publishing announced their return for the fall semester I spent my entire summer break making sure that my application was absolutely flawless. While others were on vacation celebrating their final moments before returning to school, I was locked in my room editing like a madwoman. I wanted more than anything to prove to them how qualified I am to attend this convention as opposed to those who only applied for the extra credit.

The attendants who went last year came back with a vast amount of knowledge that lead them to prosperous careers and enough money to pay off their years of student loans. No big deal. I had applied each year to get a spot, but every year I was rejected. They always assured me that I was almost picked and to never give up, so I didn't.

It was my final year as an undergrad, so it was my last chance of getting in. Just knowing that didn't help my nerves, but I had a good feeling about tonight; I could just feel it. There was no way that I would go home disappointed tonight. I worked my ass off and now I will finally be rewarded. I didn't spend all that time locked away, depriving myself of natural sunlight and a social life for nothing. When I get in this year, I can prove to not only myself, but my family as well that I can do this.

I scanned the ballroom for something to take my mind off of the situation but all it had to offer was fake plants, a built up stage, and red drapes. Not a very useful distraction. I could mingle with the other people in here, but I knew maybe two people and they were busy talking to someone else. There was one person I wouldn't mind to talk to, but I couldn't find her anywhere. I'll have to battle my nerves some other way.

As if on cue a man dressed in a tuxedo walked by holding a tray of drinks and I gladly plucked one. I don't care much for alcohol, but I'm banking on it being slightly sedative.

Right when I took a small sip I felt a presence next to me. My thoughts drifted away from the foul taste when a familiar chirpy voice said, "That nervous, huh?"

I looked up to see the person I was looking for earlier: my best friend and roommate, Sara Kuto. Her dark eyes were trained on my drink in hand questionably.

"Unfortunately," I made a face when the bubbly substance slid down my throat.

"Just breathe," she suggested calmly. "You have nothing to worry about, Allison."

I scoffed. "You said that last year . . . and the year before that. . ."

"Well I mean it this time. Not that I didn't the last couple of years, but I just have this feeling. Plus, I read your stuff," she took the drink from my hand. "I have some serious competition with you it seems."

I turned to give her an incredulous look when her attire made me lose focus.

As Sara's friend, I quickly learned that simplicity was not in her vocabulary, especially when it comes to her fashion. Whereas I settled for a simple black dress, she wore an overly-floral silk patterned dress paired with sparkly black high-tops and bright accessories. If our outfits tonight didn't reflect our personalities, I don't know what will.