What Lurks Beneath the Surface ✔️

chapter twenty-seven

For the next several weeks, I put everything I have into my short story—my time, my energy, and so much emotion that I've burst into tears in front of the computer more times than I care to confess.

Gram told me to write what I know, and I've done just that.

Angel, my main character, embarks on a journey of self-discovery as she meets her birth father for the very first time. Along the way, she makes poor life choices, finds herself in dangerous situations, and even falls in love with a childhood friend.

The story has more or less written itself and is almost finished. I just need to figure out the ending.

"Angel and her boyfriend should run away and start a new life together, complete with a cozy cottage and a golden retriever," Kira suggests, flipping through a UIC catalog. She received her acceptance letter yesterday.

"I mean, I like that ending," I reply, thinking back to my converation with Rem, "but what about Angel's father? What happens with him?"

"He takes a gasoline bath and then sets himself on fire," she says with a shrug.

"Kira...."

"What? Too dark?"

"Kind of, yeah."

"I don't care for the guy," she reminds me. "He's a creep. The sooner he goes back to whatever swamp he crawled out of, the better."

"This is for a story, remember? Angel's dad and my dad aren't the same person," I tell her.

She furrows her brow. "Aren't they, though? I mean, you, Evangeline, obviously based this character off yourself."

I roll my eyes. "Never mind. I'll ask Rem for help."

Later that day, I meet up with Rem at Poppy's. We order dinner, and after our meals, he splurges and buys us both ice cream sundaes.

"I'll never say no to ice cream, but what's the occasion?" I ask. While I have an insatiable sweet tooth, he isn't a dessert guy.

"I don't know. I figured we could celebrate," he answers.

"And what are we celebrating?"

"Well, I got into Juilliard."

"Oh, my god!" I shriek, causing everyone in the diner to turn their heads and stare. Too excited to care, I throw my arms around his neck and nearly suffocate him with my anaconda squeeze. "Baby, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you. I knew you'd get in."

He beams proudly. "Thanks, pretty girl."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier? I would have taken you out on a real date," I say, suddenly embarrassed that I wolfed down my burger and then spent twenty straight minutes talking about my stupid short story.

"I didn't want to make a big deal of it," he replies, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, we're making a big deal of it. This is huge!" I kiss his lips, overjoyed for my talented musician. If anyone deserves this opportunity, it's him.

"What about you?" he inquires. "Heard back from any schools yet?"

"Yes, actually." My lips dip into a disappointed frown. "I got into UIC, Wheaton, and Northeastern."

"Why do you look so sad? Those are all great schools," he praises me.

"Um, NYU rejected me," I admit, blushing with shame. "I don't have enough extracurriculars, apparently."

He gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze. "That's okay, baby. You'll get into Columbia for sure."

"If I can finish this story before the deadline," I say with a chuckle.