Page 51 of Script Swap
“That could help you stay on track.”
“Hmm.”
“Come on.”Bobby pulled out his phone.“What’s the best way to do this?Like, a certain number of edits every day?Do you know how many you need to do?”
I tried to lean closer to my book.“That’s not how it works.”
“Chapters, then.”
“Maybe.”
“Or pages.Hey—” He laid a hand over my book.His dark eyes determined.“Let’s do this; you’ll feel better when you have a schedule.”
“Yeah, maybe tomorrow.”
But Bobby’s voice was firmer when he said, “No, let’s do it right now.While we’re talking about it.”
My hands tightened around my book.
“How many pages per day?”Bobby asked.“Ten?How long is the book total?”
“Bobby, I don’t want to—”
“We’re making a schedule.”
“No!”
Bobby lowered his phone.
“No,” I said again.“I don’t want to make a schedule.”
“Okay,” Bobby said slowly.“I don’t understand.You’re having trouble revising—”
“I’m not having trouble revising!”
“It seems like you are.You go into the den and don’t do anything for hours, Dash.That seems like trouble.”
The waves were still coming in.They were always coming in.
Finally, I said, “Are you spying on me?”
“Of course I’m not spying—”
“What do you mean, I don’t do anything?”
“Dash, you go in there and—I don’t know.It’s silent.”Color was rising in Bobby’s cheeks.“You’re not typing.”
I got out of bed.“I can’t believe you.”
“It’s not like I was—”
I crossed the room.I wasn’t thinking; my body was on autopilot.I needed to get out of here.Out of this room.Out of this house.As I rummaged through my drawers, I said, “You don’t know what revision looks like, okay?I’m thinking.I’m working on it.I’m trying to figure out how to change it.That doesn’t always sound like typing.”
“Okay.God, Dash, I’m sorry—”
“I don’t need a schedule.”
“Okay.”
