Laina

Getting up out of the rental car, I looked around my old town with a sick feeling. I'd sworn I would never come back here, and I would have bet anything in the world that I would have kept to that promise, especially now.

My book series had been #1 since its debut and with each new book release, it became bigger and bigger. Now the movie deal was done and the first of 3 was about to be released soon.

You couldn't have paid me to come back here.

Yet here I stood.

My agent, the press people, they'd all said the same thing when I'd been invited back by the graduating class to give the commencement speech. It would be great PR and it would give people a glimpse of how I grew up. My little hometown with the cute barns and tractors and farm animals.

They didn't realize that my life had been horrible here. Not just horrible... it had been a nightmare. I STILL had nightmares.

Creative people, people who are acclaimed for their differences when they get older, they are tortured in school, especially highschool.

I was a complete freak. Worse than that, my sister was the pretty, popular girl and she happened to also be my biggest bully. That hadn't even stopped once she graduated, she kept coming back to make my life hell. Because that's what you do when you peak in highschool, you find reasons to come back. She'd tried to leave our little town and found out being a medium fish in a small pond was better than being a small fish in a huge pond. She'd tried modeling and the closest she could get was stripping. She somehow managed to act like she was doing something amazing, bringing in the mediocre money she did by taking her clothes off. She was sought after and still dating the most popular guys in school. Even though she'd already graduated.

She still tortured me and made fun of me and made sure I never had a moments peace. I never understood why she hated me so much. I still didn't. She hated me even now. Some sisters would brag if their sibling published a book series and had them turned into movies. No, she did interviews where she trashed me and made fun of me and told them what a loser I had been.

I hated being back here, even if it was just for two days. At least I wasn't obligated to see family while I was here. My mother had made her choice to never see me again after I had graduated at 16. I'd given her an ultimatum. Kick out the pedo who wouldn't stop touching me, or sign the papers to emancipate me. She would do neither, and I told her she would never see me again if she didn't. I had meant it. She'd tried twice after my third book was out and I was on TV doing interviews after HBO had picked up rights to do movies. I'd refused her calls and declined to speak of her after she'd reached out to local news stations, telling them I had run away and left her behind because she was too poor for me. My sister had run with that lie as well, though she knew the reason I left was because I was sick of my step dad always pawing on me and my mom blaming me for it instead of him.

Why had I let them talk me into coming back?

I had run into a few people from my past, or, rather, they had managed to put themselves in my path. One of two things always happened, always. They acted like we'd always been best friends and they'd never tortured me or bullied me, or they pretended not to know I was wealthy and famous now and were nice to me, feigning surprise when they realized that I was THE Laina Houston. They hadn't put two and two together before, it was a common name, and besides, they knew me better as 'Scully'. Or Annalise's little sister. Then came the favors. We went way back, why shouldn't they have favors?

Sighing, I almost got back in the car, but I made myself trudge up to the school and go in. My only caveats to doing this were that cameras couldn't follow me around. They could record the speech and a few pre-selected student interviews from kids who had written short stories for the contest, and that was it. They could shoot some stills the day of. I didn't want to be followed by a camera crew the entire two days. I felt like I had won a battle in that, my agent wanting me to go home and have it all filmed, my reunion from my estranged mother.

Nope.

She'd been just as big of a bully as my sister had, even encouraging my sister when I refused to fall in line and act like she told me to. Dress up, fix your hair, wear make-up, smile at the boys and above all, NEVER let them see you being smart. Always act dumb, men didn't like smart girls. Find a rich man and convince him to marry me quickly, even if I had to lie and say I was pregnant.

All advice I'd been horrified of and hated and refused to even consider following.

I'd been so much different than my sister and mom, and they'd both hated me for it. For making THEM look bad somehow.

The woman behind the glass jumped up when she saw me, smiling and looking around as she stroked her hair. I gave her a rueful smile.

"Hello Miss Jean, it's just me. No cameras till tomorrow."

"Oh," she replied, looking let down. "Well, isn't it so nice to see you, though? How long's it been?"

I forced my smile to stay in place. She used to make fun of me too, even calling me by that hateful nickname. She had even thought it was funny to have it put on my diploma and thrown a fit when I demanded a new one with only my real name on it. "A while. I have an appointment with the dean?"

"Yes! Though... he is assuming it will be recorded? Won't it be? On film? He's set up in the library."

"No, I asked them not to film anything until the graduation tomorrow," I told her, still trying to maintain my smile.

"Oh," she managed, sounding confused. "Can I ask why? We were all very excited to..."

"The cameras stress me out and it's in my contract that I only have to go on camera so many times a year," I interrupted, looking around. "So, the library?"

"Yes... but couldn't you have allowed it for this? Your hometown? You graduated from here too, and..."

"No. Miss Jean... sorry. I remember everything. Everything. Including NOT getting to walk that stage graduation day because I refused to be handed a diploma that didn't have my name on it. To be handed something that was making fun of me instead. YOUR joke, as I recall."

"I was just teasing you! You know we all liked you and you loved that nickname!"

"I HATED that nickname!" I replied angrily, my teeth clenched now. "And you ALL knew it! I had to threaten to sue you before you would fix it! I remember how you and Mrs Everett used to send me out of class and say I couldn't come back until I looked presentable! Just because I refused to wear make-up or fix my hair the way you thought I should!"

"We just didn't want you to get teased for looking like a little boy!"

"Bullshit! You were just being cruel to a girl who had no friends and was an easy target! Be glad the cameras aren't here, because I would tell them everything I remember about what a petty bitch you were and how you made fun of the girls here even worse than the other bullies did because you yourself peaked in highschool and stayed here just to try and hold onto the only important moments of your life! Look at you now! You look sixty five instead of forty five and it's obvious you've drank your life into a bottle. Be glad the cameras aren't here to show how pathetic you STILL are! How many lonely girls do you STILL bully to make yourself feel better?"

"Excuse me? Miss Houston?" a man called, hurrying up the hall. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," I snarled, wiping tears out of my eyes as I glared at the hateful woman who was giving me a wide-eyed wounded look now.

"Miss Jean?" the man asked the secretary.

"I'm... fine. There's no cameras. We aren't important enough here to be interviewed on camera and she doesn't remember us fondly anyway. She's already said she's going to make us all out to be monsters!"

The man cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Ahh... ummm, Miss Houston, I'm Gerald Gregg. I've not had the pleasure."

"Laina Houston," I nodded politely, answering him softly.

"I was given to understand there would be cameras, but it's fine if there's not. It just means we will have plenty of room in my office. Come in, please."

I followed him back, not looking at Miss Jean, or Ms Halsey who was sitting in the nurse's office off the main office.

He was a nice enough man, not asking about Miss Jean or what had happened. Instead, he focused on what would be said during the speech, who I would be meeting for the interviews, what the students I would be talking to were like. I could tell he was feeling me out as much as giving me information, and I felt the need to explain myself as I got up at the end of the interview.

"I didn't mean to get upset and yell at her," I told him softly. "She used to bully me worse than the other students did, and..."

"No need to explain," he told me with a gentle smile. "She's been set down more than once for being petty with the pretty girls who have few friends here. I can only imagine what she was like when she was younger and had no one to stop her. I won't let her speak ill of you. It was lovely meeting you, Miss Houston."

"Laina, please, and likewise. See you tomorrow at 11?"

"Eleven, yes, to set up for the student interviews. Did you read them? The stories?" he asked as he walked me out.

"Only the winners," I smiled. "Forty six stories is a lot to read, especially when some obviously didn't even want to. I read all the winners and runners up. Eleven total I think?"

"Good, Delaney was afraid you hadn't read any of them and you were just going to humor them on tape!"

"Delaney Hedricks? She won second place, right?"

"Yes."

"You can tell her, not in front of Mark Jester, that she should have won. His was... very borrowed. Not exactly, names and settings were changed, but almost the same story can be found in a book of short stories that has been in this library since I went here."

"Really?" he asked in surprise. "That... explains a great deal, actually," he laughed. "Mark is a writer of sorts and he is even decent, but he seemed to come up with that story out of nowhere."

"May I speak to him before you say or do anything?" I asked, feeling bad now.

"Miss Jean, call Mark Jester up out of class. He would be in PE just this moment."

Sitting down on a bench to wait, Mr Gregg paced and waited for the boy. The young man came trotting up the hall in shorts and a t-shirt and he slowed when he saw Mr Gregg watching him.

"Mark," Mr Gregg greeted him. "Do you know who this is?" he asked, gesturing to me. I stood as he did and the boy's face lit up.

"OH! Hell yeah I do! I mean! Yes, yes sir! Hello! Miss Houston, I am a HUGE fan! Super huge! I have ALL your books! Holy cow, I can't believe I'm meeting you!" he breathed, his hands in his hair.

"Hello Mark," I managed to smile, blushing. I always got embarrassed when anyone went over the top about meeting me. I felt like a horrible fraud every single time. "I wanted to talk to you before tomorrow."

"Sure! Yeah, anything!" he grinned, looking down at me as Mr Gregg stepped back.

"I was really hoping to see some of your other work. I was told you were a writer? I wanted to see it, if you didn't mind."

"Uhhh, yeah," he shrugged, embarrassed now. "I write a ton... I can bring it."

"Do you have anything you've been working on?"

"You mean like, right now?"

"Yeah," I smiled, trying no to look anything but friendly. "I know I used to carry notebooks with me everywhere, always writing."

"Yeah... same," he smiled. "Yeah. Gimme a sec, it's in my locker. PE is the one place I can't write, you know?" he asked, then turned and started down the hall.

I followed, catching up with him. "The library here is still tiny, isn't it?" I asked softly. "I remember I started writing because of this library. Not enough here to read so I started writing my own."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I must have checked out Generation Gap half a dozen times."

"Shit," he wilted, slowing to a stop. "Look... I'm sorry. Really, I just..."

"You were going to show me your work?" I prompted, gesturing down the hall.

"You really wanna see it?" he asked, confused.

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't. I know what it's like to feel like you're not good enough, that you just want to put a best face forward. Took me years before I got the confidence to put myself out there."

"But you were picked up immediately! First publisher you sent to!"

"How long ago? I started that series younger than you and finished it YEARS before I sent it in. I was terrified," I told him as he stopped at a locker and opened it.

Hesitating, he pulled out four sketch pads and held them out to me.

I opened the top one right there and looked at the anime style art and graphic novel he'd been working on.

"You're an exceptional artist," I told him, nodding.

"My... girlfriend. She's the artist, I write it. Tell her what I want and write the stories and dialogue."

"I love the humor in it, breaking the fourth wall is very in right now and a lot of fun."

"That's part of the story! If you read the first one, it's where he gets sucked into the comic book! He knows people can read it, so he's always talking to them while all this stuff happens to him. He knows the only way out is if someone finds the original and the lady writing it and they make her stop, so it's like he's trying to convince people to stop reading and go find her, but all this funny shit keeps happening to him too, you know?"

"That sounds amazing! So why not enter this?"

"They said it had to be written in book format," he shrugged, turning red again. "Plus, my... girlfriend's in college now. Since it's a collaboration, it wouldn't have worked. I just... really wanted to meet you! Are you gonna tell?"

"Mr Gregg already knows," I smiled. "He'll probably take away the prize and the interview... but don't worry. I want to finish this. Show it to my agent. If you and your girlfriend can, do you want to meet at Henry's for dinner at 7 on Friday?"

"Sure! Yeah! Absolutely! I mean, Henry's sucks ass, but yeah!"

"It used to be good?"

"Not so much anymore," he shrugged. "Better off just getting pizza hut."

"Here. Put your name and number in my phone and I'll get it to my agent. She'll set everything up."

"Holy shit, is this really happening?" he asked in jubilation, tapping his number into my phone.

I smiled and took my phone back, then handed him his books. "Bring the first ones with you, have them ready to print. See you later!" I called, walking away.

Mr Gregg was at the door, looking down the hall at Mark who was dancing and jumping in circles. "That went well?" he prompted.

"He showed me his real work. Told him I'd show it to my agent, but that he was no longer eligible to win since he copied."

"He admitted to it?"

"Not outright, but we didn't really talk about that. I just wanted to see his real work."

"He tell you that's not his work either? He just fills in the captions?"

"He said his girlfriend was the artist, he was the writer."

Mr Gregg snorted and shook his head.

"That not true?" I asked curiously.

"Not my place to say anything, but... I know who drew that work. His name is Braydon and he dropped out last year."

"Gay?"

"Yeah."

"He'll figure out soon enough that in the real world that matters less than it does in this tiny world called highschool. If it will help, I'll have my agent bring her wife."

"You do like the underdogs, don't you?" he asked with a sincere smile. "If it weren't completely unprofessional of me, I would ask you what you were doing tonight."

I let out a shocked laugh. "I guess twenty years doesn't matter like it used to," I teased. "I would have to tell you I was incredibly busy in my little motel room, editing the next book. They make me do these little publicity promotions, but don't extend my deadline for the next book when they do."

"I may be younger than I look," he grinned sheepishly. "You can't hire editors now?"

"The first few rough edits I do myself. Make sure it's all in flow and all that."

"So you're saying you JUST finished book 8?"

"I said no such thing! It was book 9!" I laughed as I left.

As I sat down in the car, I let out a breath, trying to calm myself. I still sucked at being around people and I was angry at myself for letting Miss Jean bait me. I'd told myself I was going to be the bigger person and not let anyone get to me. Just being back here made me so defensive and stressed, I hated it!

Pulling out, I drove up to the only restaurant in town, Henry's. It used to have amazing pizza, among other things. I'd been craving a calzone since I'd known I was coming back. I hoped Mark just had poor taste in food and Henry's was still good.

I could tell as soon as I walked in that it wasn't. First off, I could smell something that smelled slightly burnt and lingering. Second, the menu had changed drastically. Third, there was a bar now and beer on tap. It wasn't even a restaurant anymore, it was a bar and grill.

The few people there glanced at me as I gave the room a dejected once over.

Still, I had to eat something, I'd skipped lunch and I'd wanted to work on editing before I got to the hotel. My agent was waiting there for me, along with all the camera crew and the woman doing the interviews.

Sitting in the far corner, I pulled out my laptop and opened it so it could fire up while I looked over the menu.

Deep fried everything.

Fantastic.

"Help ya?" a woman asked, blinking down at me vacantly.

"Yeah, umm... I guess some onion rings? And the patty melt? Do you know why they stopped serving pizza?"

"Henry Neirmier sold the place to Henry Blankenship. Hank likes fried fish and beer more'n he likes pizza," she shrugged. "Fried catfish is good, wanna try it?"

"No thanks, patty melt will be fine."

"Drink?"

"Just water."

"Got Miller lite on tap and it's the special for ladies night."

"Just water, thanks."

She shrugged again as she turned and left.

As I watched her, I noticed one of the men at the bar looking me over. Quickly, I looked down at my laptop, my face immediately turning red. I knew him... at least I sort of knew him.

Shawn Dunlop was my sister's Moby Dick. Her words. (I don't think she ever read the book) The one she could never reel in, land, whatever. She'd thrown herself at him again and again and again, but he'd ignored her completely. She was too old for him, no matter how pretty and popular she was. When he left highschool, he left it behind completely. He seemed to even manage it while he was still there, living his life despite the fact he was still in school. He'd turned 18 at the beginning of his senior year and he'd missed as many days as you possibly could and still graduate, taking care of his farm. He was just... over it.

"Now," Shawn stated, walking over to my table and sitting across from me. "I KNOW you don't come here, but you still look fucking familiar as hell to me."

I glanced up at him, wondering if he were serious. So he was going to play that role, was he? The one who pretended not to recognize me right away. At least he hadn't bullied me like the others. You had to acknowledge someone existed before you could bully them. Shawn and his crowd had never cared about me at all, I may as well have been on the moon back then. Still, I refused to believe that he didn't know who I was now. He'd only been one grade ahead of me and it was a small school in a small town. You hear things.

"Hello Shawn," I told him with a minute nod. "I was just about to work for a while before my dinner came."

"Fucking hell, a brushoff! Before you even tell me who you are? You know me, but I don't get to know you?" he asked, sounding a little snarky.

I let out a sigh, swallowing hard. I didn't want a confrontation, but I also didn't want to play his games. "Excuse me," I whispered," closing my laptop. "I think I'm just going to go, I need to cancel my order."