Page 7 of Where the Little Birds Are (Little Bird Duet 2)

I stare at her for a moment. “I, uh, took the subway?” Cringing at how stupid I sound for making the statement a question, I mentally slap myself.

The tiniest smile appears on the corner of her lips. “I forgot you’re not from around here. Anyway, I appreciate you being early. A pet peeve of mine is tardiness. So, did you look over the information I sent you? Do you have any questions about the contract or anything else?”

Giddiness over hearing those words escape her makeup-less lips makes me reach for my bag. The day I got an email from her still makes goosebumps coat my arms with pride. I was in study hall listening to Zach jabber on about some sports game he watched when I saw the email sitting in my inbox. The literary agency’s name had been the subject line. Zach had asked why I was making weird noises, but I ignored him completely as my shaky hands hit the button to read whatever was sent.

Blowing out a breath, I take out the paperwork. We could have gone over the contract online or spoken on the phone to go over questions. But our email exchange left the option open to come here, and I craved to see the city and talk with her face to face instead. As much as I wanted to put a pen to paper and be part of this company as soon as I found out about it, my brother told me to hold off until after speaking with Jamie. It isn’t often he’s the voice of reason, but it made sense. My parents easily agreed, though they weren’t happy that I’d already told Jamie I’d be open to traveling to see her instead of finding a different way to communicate.

I fidget with the sleeve of m

y sweater. “I was wondering why you decided to take a chance on me.”

It’s a bold question in the grand scheme of things. Most people are probably smart enough not to ask it, but I need the answer. I’ve submitted countless stories and only won a few contests, getting published in various magazines online. Sure, I’ve had the chance to talk with an author or two since submitting to the website, but even they told me to hold off getting representation until I have more writing experience under my belt.

My eyes travel back around the room, focusing on the images of authors I aspire to be like someday. It seems farfetched to even be sitting in this room, but I remind myself anything is possible. And here I am.

Corbin says the same thing, reminding me that we can do anything if we work hard enough for it. You’ve got to jump from the nest and trust your wings will work, Little Bird.

Jamie’s hands move from her lap to the edge of her desk, her fingers weaving together as she studies me. “I see the drive you have, Kinley. When I was asked to help judge the first competition you won, I saw promise from your submission. When it comes to talent in writing, I don’t believe in luck. Some people have a natural gift from the start, others don’t.”

And she thinks I do?

“You’re young, but you’re not letting anything get in the way of accomplishing something big.” She points toward the contract in front of me. “You could be doing anything right now, but you’re here with me. Why is that?”

It seems like the answer is obvious. “I want this.” Not wanting to be too simple, I scooch forward and touch the contract. “Every time somebody asks me what I want to do when I’m older, they judge me for my answer.”

Her head tilts. “And what is it you want to do, Kinley?”

Without hesitation, I answer, “I want to inspire people.”

There’s a minor shift in her expression, her dark eyes brightening as if I said exactly what she wants to hear. “That’s why I took a chance on you. You’ll be eighteen next year. Most agencies wouldn’t even think to reach out to anyone before that point. It’s rare they give someone the opportunity they deserve regardless of natural talent.”

I shift in my seat. “That’s why I’m a little confused as to why you did. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. More than you could ever know. When people find out I want to write for a living, they think I’m joking. I know how much work goes into making a book successful, and understand it takes having someone like you backing me to make it more likely to happen. I just…” My shoulders lift. “It seems like this is too good to be true if I’m being honest.”

The sound of my heartbeat startles me as I watch her study me. She leans back in her seat again, one of her brows arched. I can’t tell if I offended her or not, but my clammy hands suddenly become worse and I’m too nervous to wipe them off. I don’t want to walk out of here without a signed contract.

“The stories you’ve posted online are all based on something, aren’t they?” Her inquisitive gaze tells me she already knows the answer. “Let me ask you something. Have you considered combining everything you’ve submitted? You’d be close to the usual requirement for a full-length novel if you did. With some tweaks, extensions, and a little polish, it’d be a unique story about two teenagers who grow together to work toward their dreams. A coming of age, if you will.”

Swallowing, I think about Beck and Ryker. The two characters are loosely based on Corbin and me, but I haven’t been able to write more because it feels like there’s something blocking me. It’s easy to write about two people who love each other when you feel it. So why is my gut preventing me from finishing their story like I want to?

Corbin has been busy with the movie for the past couple of months. We still find time for one another, but it’s different. Our talks of dreams and goals are still strong, but they divide us in ways that make it hard to understand him now. He tells me all about his new friends and the opportunities his acting coach has mentioned since the film he shot was completed. His coach even thinks Corbin will get an agent and manager that way he can try getting more roles to broaden his portfolio.

I love seeing him do what he’s passionate about because it lights up his face. Instead of worrying about his father’s reactions to his success, he celebrates everything he’s accomplished in his own way.

Still, the warnings my brother gave me about Corbin’s impending departure from Lincoln lingers. Eventually, he’ll graduate and find better places to go. I hope Gavin is wrong about him though. Corbin will come back for me because we’re too alike. We’re driven, determined, and yearning to make something of our lives. And we keep our promises. Always.

“I never considered it,” I admit. “It’ll be difficult to write more of. I haven’t been feeling very inspired which is why my entries have been on different characters.” I pause when I realize something vital that led me here. “You’ve been following all of my submissions?”

Her chin dips. “I look out for people I think I can make something of. With the right amount of work that book can become something big, Kinley. Coming of age stories are a hot commodity, and what better storyteller than someone living the journey? I wasn’t going to let you shop anything with somebody else if I could get to you first.”

My eyes widen. I never expected somebody like her to tell me that. It’s different hearing your writing is good from someone close to you. Corbin insists it’s going to take me places all the time, but he’s obligated to make me feel good about myself.

“You underestimate yourself,” she states, as if she can read my mind. “When people write because they want to, it changes the game. It isn’t about money or fame, even though those are nice to have too. It’s about making a difference.”

I press my lips together. “What if I can’t though? It seems like having an impact on people is difficult.”

“Do you have a story to tell?”

I look at the contract again, toying with my thumbs. “Don’t we all?”

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