Virtual Attraction [COMPLETE]

4| The Contest

Before I went to sleep, I double checked my Fable story and replied to a few more comments, before visiting the Fable contest submission page.

There were six stories currently in the lead for the most amount of hearts and mine was fourth place. The number one spot had 1 million reads, and 900 thousand hearts. Mine had only 300 thousand reads and 200 thousand hearts. With the new flux of chapters, I'd posted yesterday, my story had gained more than 200 000 more reads from the previous.

It was September 7th and was the deadline for the finals contest was eight days away. There was no way I'd beat 1 million reads by then, but I still felt beyond grateful. Aside from English classes I'd taken in middle school, this was the first story I'd written. Definitely the first story I'd written for fun in a long time, and there were a bunch of kind, random people who were loving it.

I'd never thought I'd write story that people liked—loved enough to share with their friends, to get me into the top five of a contest submission.

I sent a message to all of my readers who were following my page:

Thank you all for your support! <3 You'll never know how much this means. We've now reached 300 thousand reads and are top SIX in the contest submission.

Almost instantly,

This is so great! <3 – randomsupergirl1

No thank YOU for this story <3 – ilovealexrowe98

Thank you for posting TEN chapters in one day <3 <3 <3 I'm honestly so happy rn – Wesleyandferntogetherforever23

I posted again, Reading through the comments and SO grateful! Please don't forget to heart my story for the contest ;)

Rather than head home and sit in the lonely, quiet space of the apartment, I hopped on the train to the library. It had always been a place of refuge in the past, a place that I'd felt comfortable. There was no pressure to come out on top in the social hierarchy of high school, to dress with the latest Gucci, flirt with the cutest boys. The library wasn't a hotspot for teens, I didn't have to worry about seeing anyone from MDP or from my old school: Seven Miles High.

For a brief moment, I considered heading home and taking Mom up on her offer. Maybe us hanging out would dissolve some of the tensions between us. We could finally be a regular mother and daughter—or at least we could pretend.

I used the money to buy food from every hot dog stand I passed on the way to the library.

Instead, I entered the quiet slide doors of the New York Public Library, scouring through the rows of books for a spot near the windows at the back. The library was quite large, but it's architecture screamed more Harry Potter, than that of an ordinary building in the 21st century. Domes and arches, stretched under the tall, circular roof of the building, as if it were a church. Whenever you step through the doors, it's as if you're a part of some majestic religious experience. A part of a quaint, rustic, history. The fourth largest library in the world, I knew that thousands of very important people who'd actually made a difference, had stepped through the same doors.

The walls were white, brick and crumbly on the outside, and the floors in the main area were wooden, but somehow not creaky. I found a comfy chair near the teen books section and dropped my bag on the seat after looking around to make sure there wasn't anyone around who could steal it. It still had the $500 in cash, from my trip to Fable. I hadn't wanted to leave it in Riverside, where there are break-ins and creeps and weirdoes that go to through the apartments. When I was sure no one was going to steal my stuff, I headed to the YA section, just a few feet away contemplating which book to read.

There were books about mermaids, star-crossed lovers from the 13th century, and a girl who falls in love with her acting co-star on a movie set. Settling on the historical romance set in the 1200s, I returned back to my seat.

I had only been reading for about twenty minutes, when a group of loud teenagers stormed through my section of the library. There must have been about eight or nine of them, giggling violently and talking about some girl and guy that had just started going out. They didn't see me, tucked in the corner on a green couch.

Instead, they passed through the teen fiction section, pulling out books and forgetting to put them back. I wondered which district they were from, not that I'd ever be able to recognize them if they were from MDP. I hadn't met a lot of the students yet.

Leaving a bookmark in to mark my place in the novel, I put down the novel, unable to read and concentrate with the loud laughter and talking. Once I thought they'd finally left—settling on a Cassandra Clare novel I'd read four times—I lifted my book back up and settled back in my chair, allowing myself to get lost in the world of my historical romance book.

After I settled into a seat at the NYC library, I worried for a second about how I'd been

neglecting my school work. But my appointment Mrs. Blanche wasn't for another three week, since we only had to meet once a month. I decided I'd catch up then and then delved into a couple of hours of writing, lost into the world of Fern and Wesley.

After a couple of hours of writing, I post two more chapters.

Three minutes later my timeline filled up with messages from readers.

OMG I LOVE U

Yesssss I'm so ready
I think I'm having a heart attack I'm so excited!!!

I'm dying!!!!

I smiled, reading the comments that were filling up below the newest chapters of my story.

Most of them were positive, or had a little constructive criticism. But for the most part, they were sweet and engaged.

That evening, I got a text. I couldn't help but hope that it was one of my friends, Brooke or Payton or Khloe. But a quick glance told me that it was from Mom.

hey daughter! Where've you been? Haven't seen you in forever? Been working late, but I think we should hang out on the wknd, k? <3 xxxx

- M

Mom always called me daughter, not sweetheart or honey, or anything like that.

I wanted to reply, where've I been? Oh, I've been home. Right here, feet planted on the floor after 5pm pretty much every day. It's U who's been MIA. Maybe start parenting once in a while...instead of doing whatever it is you're doing. Make a living by getting a real job, like every other normal person.

Instead I said, Going to bed. It wasn't abrasively mean, but it was enough for her to get the message that I was mad.

As I pushed through the students, I observed the students in the hall. As I passed by Victoria, Jeannie, and Ivy they glanced up at me, rolling their eyes at my red shirt and denim overalls, as though my pure existence was repulsive. Bitches.

Even so, unlike most high schools, Manhattan Dalton Prep didn't have definite nerds and weirdoes, or popular kids. Everybody was sort of in the same boat. They had all lucked into belonging to the wealthiest parents in all of Manhattan, and somehow, still managed to look like they'd stepped off a runway at all times. It felt like such a crime that the richest kids in America would also be the most beautiful. As if their egos needed to be any bigger.

The hallways always like an explosion of perfume and cologne, making me choke every time I passed through them. What is with everyone dousing themselves in perfume at MDP?

Once, I reached the busy cafeteria I bought some buttermilk pancakes and strudels, before turning around into the web of students in the lunch room. It seemed like everyone in the cafeteria was watching me to see which seat I would take. I rolled my eyes, wishing they would mind their own business.

Sitting down at the edge of the cafeteria, I noticed the girl with brunette hair was sitting across the room. She was wearing heavy eyeliner and her long green sweater stretched over her skinny jeans. 8:08AM. I still had forty minutes to burn before my first class. Before, I opened up my laptop to write some more of my story, I noticed a girl with jet black hair, watching me from the opposite side of the cafeteria. When she saw that I'd noticed her, she smiled. I returned the smile.