Page 62 of Avenged

An assistant came up to Di and whispered in her ear, and I heard something about moving it along, but Di just put up her hand at the person and turned back to Violet.

“May I look at it?”

No! I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip it out of Di’s hands before she could see it. I was hurt. Hurt to my core that Violet would show one of the silly books I’d made to my idol. What made it worse was that I could see it was one of my earlier attempts. I’d made it for her the first time she’d gotten sick after she’d had her spleen removed. She was tired of being in bed, antsy to get out and about, and I’d spent most of the night crafting the story, pasting in some of the drawings I’d made of a little girl who was her own superhero. It was Violet, but also not Violet.

Di Felix slowly flipped through the pages, reading the simple text as my cheeks got redder and redder. As my heart beat faster and faster. Finally, she looked up, eyes taking me in for a minute, seeing my flushed face and the way I was twirling my ring on my thumb, before she turned her eyes back to Violet and said, “She’s very talented.”

“She is,” Violet said, her voice strong and sure.

“I have a feeling she’s not ready to believe it yet,” Di said with another glance toward me.

I wanted to run away, to not listen, to ignore what was being said about my work that I never showed anyone. No one but Violet and, once upon a time, my mom before she’d died. The person who’d bought me all my first art supplies. The person who’d encouraged my love of fandoms and comics and drawing. My heart clenched and twisted almost as much as it had the day before in the doctor’s office, talking about my—possibly—childless future.

Di began to write something on the back of the book I’d childishly tied with ribbon. At the time, it had been all I could afford. Drawing paper and ribbon. My face flared to life again.

Di looked up and handed the book to Violet. She covered Violet’s hands with her own and said, “She’s very lucky to have someone who can believe in it for her for now, but someday, when she’s ready, I want her to email me. I’ve written my email address there with instructions for what to put in the subject line so I’ll know exactly who it’s from.”

She let go of Violet’s hands, smiled at her one more time, and then turned to the next person in line who’d waited longer than they should have. By the time Violet reached me, I was already walking away. I was shaking. My entire body was a big tense fist, and the pain that I’d been ignoring all day flew through my stomach and up into my heart.

I almost ran into Travis as he caught up to me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I waved my hand. “Ask Violet.”

“Jersey!” Violet called. I was walking toward the exit, but she caught up to me, putting a hand through my arm and halting me.

I turned to her, trying to hide the tears.

“Why are you crying?” she asked.

“How could you?” I breathed out.

“Jersey, she loved it. Look at what she wrote.”

I shook my head. “What else was she supposed to say? She was being nice. She wasn’t going to say it was crap. How could she?”

She was still shaking her head. “No. You’re wrong. She didn’t have to say anything. She could have just signed it with a smile and a ‘nice job,’ but she didn’t do that. She gave me her email and a personal message for you to write in the subject.”

“I love you, Violet, but you do realize those words are so she knows in advance, ‘Watch out, here’s the crazy that you met at Comic Con one time.’”

Violet burst out laughing. “Only you would think that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you are the only one who never sees how good you are at anything. How wonderful you are. How this story you made isn’t something that should be hiding in a shoebox labeled, “Stories for Violet.”

“What’s going on?” Travis asked, brow furrowed.

“I just showed Jersey’s story.” She started to give it to Travis, and I snaked out a hand and took it from her before she could. Violet gave a frustrated grumble. “I gave that story to Di Felix, and she told me Jersey was really talented, but Jersey won’t believe it.”

I felt Travis’s eyes on me, on the paper I had clutched to my chest.

Travis said, “Well, it looks like it’s up to us to prove it to her.”

My heart was torn. Happiness that they both believed in me. Doubts that flagged me. Frustration that Violet had done all of it without asking me. She’d known I’d say no. She’d known I would be embarrassed, but she’d done it anyway. I couldn’t stay mad at her, though, because I knew she’d done it out of love. With the best of intentions.

I pulled her to me, hugging her, squishing the book that had been hers between us. I said, “Thank you. But one thing she said is true. I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready to show that part of me to the world. It’s mine. It was ours. It’s not for anyone else.”

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