Flirting With Fame (Flirting With Fame) (3 page)

I choked down the ache in my stomach as I thought of heading to my own college on Sunday. Jin had convinced me I at least needed to give it a try. That didn’t make me any less vomity, though. Starting the car, I drove through town aimlessly, looking for anything to make the fear and nausea dissipate.

Fernbrooke was small enough that one could cross the town in a matter of minutes. It was a pretty drive, with flat green land to the west and forest to the east. Beyond the trees lay Honeycomb Lake. The water winked at me with sparkling eyes between the branches, beckoning me to its cool shores.

I pulled to the side of the road and scanned the trees. Getting out of the air-conditioned car was a reminder that summer was throwing a good-bye party of its own. The thick air clung to my face and hair. Plucking my T-shirt from my stomach, I grimaced as sweat sucked the fabric back against my skin.

I followed the path through the woods and emerged on the beach. Glancing around to confirm I was alone, I kicked off my sandals, tossed my purse beside them, and waded into the lake. When the water rose above my denim shorts, I closed my eyes and dived in, pushing off of the sandy bottom. The lake was cool, but not cold. It embraced me with long, gentle arms and swallowed me beneath the surface.

I opened my eyes under the water and stared into the darkness. Underwater was the one place where everyone lived in a world as silent as my own. The one place I felt like an equal. I stayed beneath the surface until my lungs burned, then kicked my feet and burst into the sunlight.

Gulping in air, I tilted onto my back and allowed myself to float farther into the lake. I propelled myself backward with the steady flap of my arms. Eyes closed, I drifted until the heat of the sun burned my skin, then I turned over and dived again, knifing through the water.

When I broke the surface again, I realized I’d swum much farther than I’d planned. My shoes and purse were out of sight and I approached a group of trees I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Sheridan Island.

My heart picked up speed as I treaded water and stared at the patch of land in the middle of the lake. Even years later, it was like I had just been there. I could still hear Annie’s laugh. The loud boom. The last noises I’d ever hear before being propelled into a world of mind-numbing silence and repulsive scars.

Thanks for visiting Sheridan Island, kid. Enjoy your parting gifts. Don’t forget to tell your friends!

Shaking my head, I tilted my body toward the opposite shore, where my stuff waited, and sliced through the water. I kicked my legs and pulled myself forward with my arms, leaving the awful memories behind with the rotting trees on the island.

When I emerged from the water, the air still hung heavy and my wet skin was covered in goose bumps. I slipped on my shoes and rifled through my purse for my phone to check the time. A blue star blinked to tell me I had new e-mail from a sender I’d flagged as VIP. There was only one person I’d given this treatment to: my agent.

Steph had been my agent since I’d sent her the first
Viking Moon
book back when I was fifteen. Although we’d chatted on the phone over the years, we’d never met face-to-face. She knew I was young—my checks were made out to my parents, after all—but even she had no clue I looked nothing like the girl on the back of my books. I furrowed my brows and touched the screen to open the message:

I know you’ve been anxious to hear from me, but I wanted to wait until everything was set in stone. I have wonderful news, Elise! They’ve finally cast the
Viking Moon
series! Gavin Hartley has signed on to be Dag, and Leila Clarke is playing Thora! How exciting is that? I can’t believe we got such incredible actors! I mean, they’re HUGE right now!

I looked away from the phone and sucked in a breath. Gavin would be my Dag after all. One of my more outlandish fantasies was coming true. I wrapped an arm around myself as I continued to read:

As if that wasn’t amazing enough? They are going all out when it comes to making this show as close to the books as possible. The producers even called and begged me to get you on the set as a consult, but I told them you couldn’t leave Fernbrooke with your school commitments. So they scouted out your town and apparently think it’s the perfect place to house your Vikings! They are so excited because that means you can be there whenever you aren’t needed in class. Doesn’t hurt that filming out in the Midwest is going to be a hell of a lot cheaper than renting a lot in LA . . . Isn’t that exciting? You’re going to meet Gavin Hartley! They start filming in a month. I’ll be in touch with more details. Congratulations, Elise! Go celebrate!

The phone dropped from my hand and fell onto my sandaled foot. Pain shot up my shin, but I barely noticed.

A single word kept repeating itself over and over in my head, like a mantra:

Fuck
.

W
hoever named Fernbrooke University obviously hadn’t considered the slew of students who would walk the campus over the years with the school’s initials emblazoned across their chests.

FU.

A giggle fizzed up my throat like soda bubbles. I’d seen the shirts in town, of course, but nerves had me giddy. If I didn’t laugh, I’d probably scream.

My mother touched my elbow, her mouth set in a tight line.

Are you okay?
she signed.

I nodded and squinted at the paper in my hand. According to the campus map, my dorm was straight ahead. I hitched up my suitcase as students darted along the cement paths and between lush trees. The parking lot faded from view, and I coaxed my feet to propel me away from my disappearing car.

We made it to a massive stone building and I held my breath as I caught sight of the wooden doors ushering me into what would be my home for the next nine months. My throat went dry, and my heart thumped at high speed.

My mom wrenched the doors open, waving my father and me inside. Her blond hair ruffled as a blast of cool air escaped the hall. I wiped a bead of sweat off my forehead and released the breath I’d been holding. At least the place had air-conditioning.

I peered past my mother into the hall, wrinkling my nose. The lobby reeked of sweat and mildew. Particles of dust waltzed among the puddles of light from the windows, scattering as students tottered through them with boxes and furniture.

Something slammed into my side with such force, I dropped my suitcase and staggered into a wall. A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and my father steadied me.

Are you hurt?
he signed.

I’m fine
.

He turned and said something to the boy who’d crashed his beanbag chair into me. Apparently, the words my father used weren’t especially nice, as the boy gave him a gesture that meant the same thing in ASL as it did in English. My father started after him, but I grabbed his hand and shook my head.

“It’s okay,” I muttered. “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”

My father smoothed my hair and kissed my forehead. Heat rushed from my feet to my hair follicles as students stopped and stared. A girl carrying a pink pillow sneered and covered her mouth with her hand. I eased away from my father and picked up my suitcase.

By the time we made it up four flights of old stairs that sagged beneath our feet, I was drenched in sweat, despite the air-conditioning. I pulled my hair in front of my scar as we reached a door marked 406, and took a breath.

The room was the size of my closet. And, not being super into clothes, I didn’t have a big closet at home. Sparse, with only two dressers, and two beds separated by a double wooden desk, the room begged for color or personality. I almost felt sorry for it.

My father took my second suitcase and heaved it, along with the one he already carried, onto the left bed. Then my parents stood and stared at me. My mom’s eyes were damp and she dabbed at them with a Kleenex. I shuffled my feet and glanced at the clock on the desk.

You’ll be okay?
my mom finally signed.

Of course.

You can come home
anytime you like.
We’re only twenty minutes away.

Exactly. I stopped myself from once again pointing out how stupid it was for me to stay on campus when I could practically walk to school from our house. But my father figured staying at home wouldn’t encourage me to meet new people. He was right, but that didn’t mean I agreed with his decision.

She’ll be fine
, my dad signed. He added, “You need to let her grow up, Louise. This is an important step for her to take. She’s not a child anymore.”

“I know,” my mother said. “But she’s not like everyone else, Rick.”

“I can read lips, remember?” I said. They exchanged glances and shifted their eyes to the floor. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

After a few more minutes of my promising to call if I needed anything at all, no matter the time of day or night, my parents finally left. I shut the door behind them, at once relieved and more scared than I’d ever admit to them, pressing my forehead into the wood and taking deep breaths. When I’d calmed down, I glanced at the bare beds. Not knowing which side my roommate would prefer, I chose the left, since my father had already put my suitcase there. I hoped she wouldn’t care either way, but steeled myself in case I had to move. I refused to be the cause of an argument on the first day.

Not having any siblings and never having shared a living space before, I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d even get along. In the end, all that mattered was that she was someone who would leave me alone so I could write, since I was already on deadline for the fourth and final book in the
Viking Moon
series. Between that and regular studies, I’d have my hands full. I’d specifically mentioned wanting a shy roommate on my dorm application for that very reason. As I tried to imagine what she might be like, I opened our tiny closet and started unpacking. My gaze flickered to the other empty bed as I worked.

After I finished, I sat on my newly made bed, my back propped against my favorite pillow. With my laptop perched on my knees, I’d just opened Word to start plotting the last
Viking Moon
book when the floor shook with my roommate’s entrance.

A curvy brunette bounced on her heels at the end of my bed. Her hair puffed like waves of brown smoke around her face, and she spoke with incredible rapidity. I tried to study her lips, but her mouth moved so fast, I could only make out the words
best
and
excited
.

Suddenly, she stopped and stared at me expectantly.

“Uh . . . hi?” I attempted. “I’m Elise Jameson.”

She approached, and I instinctively pressed my back into the pillow. Unfazed, she stuck a pale hand in front of my face. Again, her lips moved too quickly for me to understand more than a word or two.

I took her hand to cut her off. “I’m sorry, but could you slow down? I can’t read your lips when you talk that fast.”

Her hazel eyes widened. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I forgot! The school told me my roommate was deaf. Though they
did
say she was also really good at reading lips.”

“I am. But only when those lips aren’t moving a mile a minute.”

“Sorry, again.” Her face turned a vivid shade of pink, making the few freckles scattered across her nose stand out. “I’m a bit of a chatterbox. Guess you’re lucky you don’t have to hear me yap all the time, huh?”

I said nothing. The pink hue in her cheeks instantly turned bright red.

“Right. You’d probably rather be able to hear anything at all. Stupid, Reggie.” She smacked the side of her head. “Oh, yeah, I’m Regina Campbell, by the way. But everyone calls me Reggie.”

“Nice to meet you, Reggie,” I said. “And don’t worry about it. Stuff like that happens all the time. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“For what it’s worth, you speak really well,” she said. “I’d never know you couldn’t hear.”

“I wasn’t born deaf,” I said. “There was an accident years ago. But I still remember how to speak.”

“Oh.” Her eyes dimmed as she gave me a look that made my stomach ache. “That sucks. Is that how you got your scar?”

She pointed to the side of my face and I reached for the tendrils of hair that usually covered the flaw.

Crap. I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail while I unpacked.

I slipped the elastic out and fluffed my straw-colored locks forward.

“Yeah,” I said, “but I don’t like to talk about it.”

“Sure. I understand.” Reggie gave me one last look, then moved to her bed and flipped open a purple suitcase covered in hearts. She’d packed it so tight, T-shirts and bras popped out like a jack-in-the-box.

“Oops.” Reggie grabbed the fuchsia bra that had settled on my lap. “I hate packing. I kinda just shoved everything in and hoped for the best.”

She scrunched her face, turned back to her suitcase, and wrenched out a pair of jeans that appeared to be caught on something at the bottom. When the pants finally pulled free, she stumbled back, and the suitcase plummeted from the bed, spilling its contents all over the bare wood floor.

“Here, let me help.” I fell to my knees and gathered sweaters and scarves, tossing them back into the case. Dragging my palm across the floor, I felt for anything that might have rolled beneath my bed. My fingers landed on the thick paper of a novel, and I grinned. My roommate was a reader. At least we had something in common.

I slid the book from under the bed and pulled it into my lap. A yelp stuttered out of my throat before I could stop it when I saw the familiar cover and title of the book in my hands.

Viking Moon
.