Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
She must be right by her phone because her response is instantaneous. Or rather, her responses. As usual, six messages pop up in quick succession.
Peyton: All right, this is what I always say:
Peyton: Hey! I’ve had so much fun hanging out with you, but I kind of see this as more of a friendship thing.
Peyton: I’m not really feeling a romantic spark.
Peyton: You’re so awesome, and I know you’re going to find someone you totally click with.
Peyton: I just don’t think it’s me.
Me: Wow. Not bad. Thanks!
I do a bit of tweaking, copy and paste, then take a deep breath and hit send. Instantly, I get that weak feeling in my stomach and my heart starts pounding. The idea of an impending confrontation makes me queasy, but at the same time I experience a pang of pride. I may not be able to tell Aaron he’s a terrible kisser, or tell my mother how much I hate her sometimes, but at least I was able to accomplish this one teeny, tiny thing. There’s the silver lining, I guess.
I try to focus on that feeling of pride, but the nervous energy doesn’t abate. It continues to wreak havoc on my gut as I approach the pickup counter at the post office.
“Hi,” I greet the elderly clerk. “I need to pick up a package for Cassie Soul? I got a notice on my door saying they dropped it off here because nobody was home to sign.” I hand him the notice.
“Let me go check.” The gray-haired man shuffles into the back room.
While I wait, my phone buzzes in my hand. Aaron’s name appears on the lock screen. The nausea returns. All I can see from the notification preview is: Thanks for being honest. I really—
Then it cuts off.
Oh God. I really what? Optimism eludes me as my brain fills in the blanks with all the worst-case scenarios.
I really hate you.
I really think you’re a bitch.
I really hate that you wasted my time.
I click the notification.
Aaron: Thanks for being honest. I really appreciate it. So many people just ghost these days. Thanks for being so cool.
Relief flitters through me. Wow. Okay. That went way better than expected.
Me: Thanks for understanding. You’re really cool too.
Aaron: Enjoy the rest of your summer, Cassie.
Me: You too.
Just like that, I handled the confrontation with such ease I almost want to call Tate and brag. Then I realize how weird that would be, considering I haven’t brought up Aaron since Tate and I got together. And I don’t want him to think I’m still seeing other guys.
“Here you are!” The postal clerk returns with a thin cardboard box. “Sign here, please.”
My entire body vibrates with excitement as I get back into the car, where I tear open the package. I reach inside. The next thing I know, I’m holding the physical manifestation of Kit ’n McKenna. It’s a hardcover, the front image featuring the titular characters, and it looks and feels incredible. Even more astonishing is the byline at the top.
WRITTEN BY CASSANDRA SOUL
At the bottom is a second listing:
ILLUSTRATED BY ROBB SHEFFIELD
Squealing out loud, I quickly snap a picture and text it to my former stepbrother.
Me: LOOK!!!!
Robb: Holy shit!
Me: I had a second copy printed and shipped to the penthouse. You should receive it end of day tomorrow.
Robb: This is so cool. Thanks for including me. Imagine this takes off??
Me: What do you mean? We’re not actually selling it lol
Robb: Why the hell not?
Me: It’s just a present for my sisters.
Robb: Umm … Okay, we need to get on a call to discuss it. This could be a missed opportunity, Cass.
Robb: I’m away this weekend, heading to the Montauk house, but how about Monday? You free to chat?
Me: Sure. Sounds good.
My head is spinning like a carousel now. I didn’t plan on selling this book at all. Dad made that throwaway comment about self-publishing or submitting it to a publisher, but I’d brushed it off. Becoming a children’s book author was never at the top of my career choice list. But now I’ve got a hardback copy of Kit ’n McKenna in my hands, and it looks real. Sharp, professional. This printer did an exceptional job. The pages are glossy, and the interior illustrations are gorgeous. As I flip through and read lines from the story, I find myself grinning like a silly schoolgirl. This is good. It’s really, really good.
So why not? Why not try to make something happen? Turn this project into something other children can enjoy, not just my sisters. I suppose next weekend’s birthday unveiling will be the real test. If Roxy and Mo love the book, that bodes well for the prospective success of this venture.
My phone buzzes again while I’m reading.
Joy: Is that you sitting in the Range Rover giggling to yourself like an escaped mental patient?