A Soft Devil (COMPLETED)

Chapter 3

The loud annoying beeping sound woke me from my deep slumber. I groaned turning over and pressing the snooze on my phone and turning on the light. I rubbed my hands over my eyes to wipe the crust out of them, and sat up preparing for the day I had to work a double. I looked around my floor to try to find my work clothes, but I couldn't see shit. Man, I hate this dusk in the morning shit, but I do gain an hour of sleep. I stretched out before checking the time. It was 7:00, so I still had enough time to get my shit together. I enjoyed my last few minutes of peace before trying to find appropriate clothes to wear to work. I began moving my clothes off my other clothes on the floor only to find more clothes, but not the ones I was looking for. I decided to just ditch the clothes and take a shower. I gathered all the things I needed after the shower. When I entered the TV room, I saw Kayla sleeping on the couch. I shook my head snickering letting her enjoy her sleep. I was just about to strip when I heard my phone ringing from my room. I groaned making my way to it.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hello is this Cindy Yonga?" A male voice came through the phone.

"Yea, what you need?" I asked him.
I also wanted to ask why he was calling this damn early.

"Well, this is Fred Carlson from Penguin Classics Company, Ms. Heart's assistant."
My furrowed eyebrows arched up into an perfect McDonald's M. I covered my mouth from squealing really feeling awake now. I can't believe they're calling me back!
"My boss just finished reading, last night in fact, the short story you submitted to her."

"Did she like it?" I asked before he could say anything else.
I was anxious to see what they had to say. I couldn't believe THE Ms. Heart, New York's three book selling novelist; top selling female author; and Nobel Piece Peize author read my short story. I hoped she liked it, or maybe she loved it.

I heard Fred arkwardly clear his throat on the other end. "Well, you see that's why I'm calling. After Ms. Heart was done reading it, she wanted to personally talk to you, but she ran into a meeting this morning, so I'm delivering this call."

I was about to lose it with all my excitement building up. After three years of reading her books and loving them like they were my children, she was reading my stories. Her books were the only books I had after the accident. The only things that gave me hope and determination to finish high school. To not give up.

"So what'd she say?" I asked carefully trying to sound grown and not a child.

"She said the story needed some work like any underdeveloped story would, but that she thought it was mediocre."

My McDonald's eyebrows furrowed back into a W. My throat felt clogged, and my mouth went dry. I felt like someone just punched me in the stomach with gold rings. "Mediocre?" I asked to be sure that these were the words she said.

"Yes, mediocre," he confirmed.

I lowered the phone to my chest, away from my ear to process what had been said. Mediocre was the only word that came to my mind. I just kept hearing the word come out of her assistant's mouth. It almost sounded like a pounding obnoxious ring against my ears. How he said it made it sound awful. It must've been awful if Ms. Heart couldn't even deliver the news to me herself, or at least wait for her meeting to be over. There's no way she said that. She always writes how the youth must rise up and make something out of nothing. There's no way she would say that bullshit, but she also doesn't seem like the type to lie. I began overthinking the word so much I felt it flash before my eyes in big bold letters. The letters that made the word mediocre.