About an hour into my outing, my phone rings and I'm sprinting back through the damp grass towards the house. Mom had called, saying Randy brought back a letter with a particularly familiar address attached to it, and I took off.
I take Ms. Wilde's shortcut again between houses, making a wild gesture to explain the letter to her as I pass when she gives me a curious look. I don't see her reaction but I expect she understands but either way, I continue on, my camera bag bobbing as I sprint. More people are out now rather than earlier, Mrs. Abernathy in her garden, she's ushers a wave, Mr. Dobson doesn't pay much attention as he crosses the street, and one of Delilah Watsons children skips steps around her mother. But I don't take time to talk as I usually would, I just keep running.
By the time I make it back to the house, I'm heaving and I'm forced to bend over for air. Mom opens the door in my face and I'm forced back up, holding up the white envelope addressed to me in neat, cursive writing from Los Angeles. Without another thought, I grab it from her hand and rip it open, trying my best not to tear the letter along with it. That'd be great, wouldn't it? Rip it after all this time stressing.
Dear Ms. Swift,
I'm sorry for not getting back up with you as planned but we had some technical difficulty along paired with a hard decision. In the end, it is in our proud contemplation that you join The Scoop reporting team for a 3 month internship. You will be given a subject that is yet to be decided and asked to spend your preferred choice amount of time to do a writeup on such a topic. Along with pictures relating to the topic as so.
We'll tell you more once we see you in Los Angeles in a week. Your tickets will be sent in the next few days and you'll be given a paid in-full hotel room for the time being. Again, sorry for the delay and we hope to see you on staff next week.
Sincerely,
Avery Nicole, publicist, LA Scoop Magazine
"I got the job," I say, quiet at first. My heart beats so hard it's starting to make my head throb. "I got the job!"
Mom snatches the letter from my hand again and reads it over while I squeal again. A week? That's barely enough time to get my head around the idea, let alone do it.
"Taylor!" She shouts and I collapse into her arms, feeling the tears come off my cheeks without remembering I even wanted to cry. Everything just hit me at once, there's not even a moment of shock or becoming numb. I'm just completely taken with this opportunity at the moment. "A week?"
"I know! there's so much to do. Do I need anyone to come with me? Like you or dad or I could call Austin if y'all can't go," I burst, every thought that even comes close is piled out into one long sentence. Mom grabs me by my shoulders to steady me.
"Taylor, sweetie, calm down. You're a big girl, you'll do great on your own. It'll give you practice for when you move out, you're 18 now anyway."
"I know, it's just, I'm so use to having at least one of y'all around. Its gonna be weird not seeing you for 3 months," I say, taking a sigh to clear my thoughts.
"Oh, you better call every other day. I want up to the minute reports on what's going on and how's it going. And I want to know what you're reporting on, all those details, okay?"
"You got it." I say. I would say more but nothing comes, just a little happy dance before mom offers to make us oatmeal cookies to celebrate and I happily agree to help her make them. In the meantime, blasting music to keep us busy and our spirits up at the same time
•
It's early when I arrive at Ms. Mary's Artwork for the morning to noon shift. The effort to get up a lot more taxing compared to when I personally want to. This should be my last shift here for awhile though, at least, and I wanted to make sure I was on time.
Ms. Mary had understood and despite her initial signs of doubt, she confirmed she could get her 14 year old granddaughter to work my shift and she could do the rest as usual, closing at 5.
Word spreads fast through Cabarrus and before I know it, I'm being congratulated by essentially everyone in town, including Ms. Wilde, who suggested that if I happen to run into Tanner, I should tell him she said hello. For more reasons that one, I honestly hope I don't get that chance.
Speaking of Tanner, I've been stopped twice just this week by girls asking for a picture. It's just getting ridiculous now though, I mean a picture with a family member is one thing but a childhood friend is another. It's not like we've seen eachother in a year, he hasn't even made an effort to get up with me despite his fans gloating about how much he cares for everyone. I can see straight through him, it's easy to see behind his act he puts on. Just an old skill I ended up picking up on by spending so much time with him. It hasn't came in handy in awhile but I can still see if an interview comes up if he actually means the things he's saying or if he's just reading his lines like lyrics off of a page.
The door chime breaks me from my thoughts and I'm forced to look up to find a familiar face coming my way. Ed, smiling away, ginger hair falling messily over his glasses. He pushes it from his face the moment he reaches the glass counter in front of me. In his hands, he carries two sodas and a greasy bag of hopefully food.
"Heard the news. Congrats." He says, a huge smile plastered across his face. Ed has always been a good friend of both Tanner and I but since Quincy nabbed him, Ed has been even more like a brother than before. I tend to venture on my own, just a habit, but if I ever hang out with anyone, it's usually either Ms. Mary, Mom, or Ed nowadays.
"You're late," I roll my eyes, turning on my heel to grab his guitar he left for me to decorate a couple days ago. Just a few simple designs that I drew on in my spare time, Ed picked them out and asked me to a few days ago.
"I know, but I brought fries." He digs into the bag and holds a couple up in front of his face and wiggles them.
"Because fries will always make it better," I grin, grabbing the fries in his hand and biting into one.
"They do, and how long are you gonna be there?"
"3 months." I hand the guitar to him over the counter.
"Awesome. Thanks. How much do I owe ya?" He asks but I shake my head.
"Nothing. It was fun; kept me busy."
"Seriously, you have to let me pay you something," Ed insists, digging into his pocket.
He holds out a few crumpled up dollar bills with some change in his hand. "No. Seriously, Ed." I back away, grinning as I try to avoid him pushing the money at me.
Finally, he gives up and sighs. "Fine. But if you need anything in LA, just call me and I'll be there in a day."
"You'll be the first one, trust me."
"So, you're going to be in the same city as Wilde?" He asks, diverting his attention momentarily from his guitar to me.
"Apparently. I might actually need you to save me if I run into him," and we laugh, despite the distant sting that always comes along with Tanners' name.
