Victor's words echoed into the furthest recesses of my psyche. When did he figure it out? How? Was it the day we first met? Did he manage to work it out somewhere in between? I was sure he didn't think anything of the sticky notes. Didn't he think they were for fanfiction? What was he going to do, now that he knew about me? My mind reeled and turned over upon itself as I panicked.
I was found out.
"...What do you mean by that?" I asked meekly.
"Huhuhu, what do you think I mean by it, Mr. Moore?"
"I'm asking you because I don't know!"
I maintained my feigned ignorance. If it had to end, I at least wanted to go down fighting to the last, as vain as it was.
He stopped tapping his nose and sat down on the floor across from me. "Why, I'm talking about you winning the winter festival with your fanfic, of course!" He said with a cheery smile.
"...That's all you meant?"
So he didn't know. I shot Victor an annoyed glare but held my peace. This guy is too much for me to take in. When I think I have a handle on his disjointed behavior, it only gets worse. I don't think my heart can take another surprise like that.
"So? Are you going to do it?" He pressed.
Despite my decision to join Victor's brainstorm meet-up, I hadn't considered what I was going to write for the festival. The easy choice seemed to be fanfiction about my own novel, but is that even fair? Since my writing already won an award, it seemed almost criminal to use a spin-off to win the competition. Not only that, but it just felt weird to consider it fanfiction since I was, after all, the author.
Or maybe not. After all, I could consider myself my own number one fan. Perhaps loopholes and sophistry could make it all work... just kidding.
Before I could answer Victor's question though, the intercom inside the front foyer sounded. A faint, feminine tone could barely be heard, but unintelligible from where Victor and I sat inside the living room. The slow, thumping of the old woman's footsteps made their way towards the front door.
"Aha, looks like some more guests have arrived. Excuse the interruption of our little talk, I'll be right back." He said as he sprang to his feet.
I watched him sprint out of the room, his long, blonde hair flailing about in the wind of his haste.
The wait wasn't for long. Moments later, Victor returned, with Melissa and one of her friends. I believe her name was Claire, based on my eavesdropping sessions during English class.
"Good evening, Travis." Melissa's soft greeting electrified my senses.
"Ah... yeah, good evening..." I replied stiffly.
But before I could say anything more, her friend jumped forward and unceremoniously wrenched my attention away from Melissa, "Hiya, the name's Claire Niels. I don't think we've been properly introduced yet, but there ya go!" She exuberantly declared.
I gave a cordial nod, "Travis Moore, nice to meet you."
So it was two and two genderwise? My askant glance probed Victor's features. He noticed my stare but merely shrugged as he turned to leave again.
"I did invite someone else, though their schedule was a bit touch and go, so they might not attend... however, I won't let that ruin things!" He cried as he charged out of the living room once more.
We all watched as he practically flung himself through the door, leaving me to sit alone with the two girls.
"It's pretty badly furnished in here, isn't it?" Claire bluntly noted. She was looking the bare living room over. I didn't blame her for her assessment, since it was rather odd. That said, it was rude to say it aloud.
As though in agreement with my sentiments, Melissa slapped Claire's hand,
"Shhh, you're being rude." She admonished her friend sternly.
The tactless Claire withdrew her reddened hand, but not without a petulant retort.
"Blegh."
Melissa bowed her head apologetically at me, "I'm sorry about her, she can get a little insensitive at times. She means well, but she doesn't think properly before speaking."
Her apologies to me were misplaced since Victor was the one maligned. Nonetheless, I shook my head to assure her I didn't.
For the second time that evening, Victor returned to the living room, this time with a towering plate of the ginger-chocolate confections from earlier. Their aroma weakened after cooling, but they still carried a refined, delicate aura about them.
"I made some refreshments for us to fuel our creativity. Hope you like them!"
He also passed around some mugs of tea to go with them.
"So," He said, as he sat down on the floor beside me. "There isn't much furniture to work with. I recently moved into my grandmother's place, and haven't had the time to get anything in order yet. Most of it is still in boxes in my room, what with the Festival preparations and all."
"You moved?" Claire asked, her interest piqued.
"Mhm, indeed. It was too far to commute by car to the academy, so I had to commute by train for some time. Then I realized it was better to live with my grandmother, to save on train fares."
"Ooh, you live far away? Where at?"
"Quite far away, actually..."
I could tell Victor was slowly crumbling under Claire's relentless pressure. Before, Victor and I were sitting across from the girls on the floor, but as the talkative girl became more animated, she sidled forward. Now, she was uncomfortably close to Victor, who seemed desperate to regain that lost space.
Grabbing a cookie from the plate Victor set between us, I crammed it into my mouth.
Delicious.
"HMMHPH, SOO GOOD!" I mumbled loudly between the entire cookie I laboriously crunched. It was really good, just as I expected it to be, so my exaggerated reaction was more fitting than I first anticipated.
Melissa took one as well and nibbled it thoughtfully. Her eyes lit up with ecstasy, "Victor, I didn't know you were this good at baking!"
Our overly emphatic reactions caused Claire's attention to snap to the cookies almost immediately.
Now that Claire was preoccupied with gluttonizing the plate of cookies, Victor began the session.
"Ahem... ladies and gentlemen, I know my request was sudden, however, as you all know, the Winter Writer's Festival is taking place at the academy, right after the end of the semester. So with that in mind..." He paused, as he pulled a folded scrap of paper from his pants pocket, "We'll be registering a booth inside the gym!"
He proudly displayed a folded flier of what appeared to be a diagram of the academy's gymnasium. It was hard to tell what was on it with all the creases though.
"So?" I asked.
Victor snorted at my feigned apathy, "I'll have you know I made this flier myself. I am one of the organizers of the event, you know."
"So?" I repeated.
"We're going to be distributing whatever we brainstorm here tonight, that's what's 'so'. We will be using that booth to win us the competition!"
"The goal of the competition is to write a novel, collection of short stories, poems, or even theatrical pieces, and sell as many copies of them as possible from our booth. Since the academy is open to the public, there are plenty of customers. Last year's event had over three hundred prospective clients, meaning we can expect just as many this year."
"The competition is technically for solo writers, but multiple booth operators are allowed on any one entry."
"When we sell our books, though, we don't get actual "money" per se, as that would run into some legal issues I won't get into here. Instead, we're given tokens that are handed out to the customers upon entry, which they can pay us with to purchase copies of our books."
"The writers with the most amount of tokens are considered the winners of the competition. The awards? A two-thousand dollar prize, which of course will be split among the four of us equally, that is, if everyone agrees to a merger of our abilities."
He turned to each of us with an expectant expression. Apparently, this was an appeal to the team players in all of us. Although I've never worked in a group for writing, given my... ahem... friendless background, if it meant a front-row seat next to Melissa, I was all for it.
"I'm good with it."
"Same here."
"Hmgh!"
Victor's face lit up with joy, "Good, good. Now that that's all settled, if there aren't any more questions..."
"What about unoriginal works, is that allowed?" Melissa asked.
"Ah, that, you're probably referring to "Judgement of Fantasia". Fanfictions are fine, so long as you receive the original author's permission to do so. Since the author has an online presence and talks with their readers, I'm sure they would hear a request like that out at least."
This felt weird, hearing Victor talk about my activity online without knowing it was me. Now that I think about it, how am I going to ask myself for permission to write a fanfiction about a novel I wrote myself, and play that off just as naturally as can be? For that matter, would everyone even believe me if I told them that I somehow got permission from myself? God, my brain hurts from just thinking about it. Perhaps I should reject the idea?
"Well, if that's all for questions, then let's get down to business..."
"What about her, is she going to be writing anything?" I asked, pointing at Claire, who was still picking the remaining crumbs from the plate of what was once Victor's cookies.
The girl in question raised her head and returned my finger, "Are you?" She asked, clearly skeptical of my writing ability.
"Of course I am!"
"I asked her to help out with the booth since she's not much of a writer," Melissa interjected, "that said, reading is her strong point. She can help us with editing."
Claire and I both stared at her for several moments, before relenting to her pacifying terms.
Victor stood from the floor with an air of finality, his short frame stood erect as he looked down at us from his artificial height, "Then that settles that. Now, let's talk about where we want our booth..."
And so began the three-hour brainstorming session. In the end, we decided on where we wanted our booth, that our novel would be a fanfiction of Judgment of Fantasia -of which I had my reservations, though my silence was kept throughout the session-, as well as our roles; I was an assistant writer; Claire was the editor; Victor the producer; and Melissa the lead writer. Though I was somewhat off-put by the ordering of writers, that much was to be expected. After all, none of them knew who I was.
I found myself in the dimly lit night outside Victor's house. The street lamps shone weakly, barely illuminating the street underfoot. I didn't anticipate our meet-up to run so late, but most of us had other things to do during the day, so it left us with no other choice than to convene in the evening.
"Thanks for coming everyone, I look forward to making something great!" Victor called to us as we were about to leave.
As I was about to return home, Melissa trotted up alongside me, with Claire in tow, "I look forward to working together, Travis." She smiled sweetly.
"Y-yeah."
As I stuttered, my only thoughts were on what was to come. For the first time in my years as a writer, I was nervous... but not in a bad way.