Chapter One
“Calla, you almost ready?”
I tore my gaze away from my reflection to find Brady hovering in the door of my suite.
“Um, can I have a few more minutes?”
“Of course.” He flashed a reassuring smile that did little to settle the queasy feeling in my stomach. “I’ll knock again in five, but then we really have to go.” His tan hair flopped forward as he raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Number two needs five more minutes. I repeat. Number two needs five more minutes.”
The way he so effortlessly reduced me to a number made me wince. Brady seemed nice for someone who worked in reality television, but then again, I was completely oblivious to this world. Anyone who knew me would never have said I was the kind of person to do this sort of thing. They’d all have insisted that quiet, shy Calla did not have the right personality for TV.
I looked back at myself in the mirror, taking in my bright blue eyes, now lined with soft brown liner. Rosy blush dottedboth of my cheeks, and my raven hair was styled in a long braid. The hair and makeup team had begged me to wear my hair down in loose, long waves, but I’d insisted on wearing it pulled back. The makeup already felt like a lot. This was a writing competition, after all; it wasn’t like I was going onThe Bachelor.
Smoothing one of my eyebrows, I continued to inspect myself. I had never felt self-conscious before now, but I had also never experienced the stress of considering what the general public might think of me. People were harsh and cruel, and I feared I would be no match for their scrutiny. Sure, I was pretty, but not in the way that caused people to stop and stare. Everything about me was intentionally understated, just how I liked it.
This was a writing competition, I reminded myself again. For authors. How many people would even watch? And if anyone did, surely they’d care more about my talent than the way I looked.
Calla Scott, budding novelist from Chicago, arriving for her chance to compete on The Next Great American Classic.
The whole idea was unfathomable. When my sister, Piper, had applied for me, I’d told her she was being utterly ridiculous. Then, when the call came announcing that I’d been selected, apprehension had smacked me in the face.
Of course, I’d declined. I had already sold my first novel two years before. Sure, there had been a bit of a publishing delay, and now I had terrible writer’s block, but I’d still sold it. I hadn’t written anything new since the accident, but I found it hard to fathom that a show could help with that.
But Piper had begged me, with tears in her eyes. She’d said I was fading into nothing right in front of her. I believe her exact words had been something along the lines of,your numbness is sucking the life out of me.
So, because I loved my sister, and not because I thought this experience would have some profound effect on me, I’d agreed.
Another knock.
“Calla. It’s time.”
Standing from the vanity, I tugged on the hem of my most comfortable sweater, ensuring it lay smooth. It was my favorite and made me feel like a writer whenever I put it on, which is why I’d found it so strange earlier when the producer had begged me to change. What said ‘writer’ more than a cable-knit sweater? It was even weirder when they’d strongly suggested I wear a dress. Why would I wear a fancy gown to pitch book ideas? Surely the other contestants would be wearing similar things.
“Let’s do this,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.
“That’s the spirit.”
Brady ushered me through the door of my room, and I found myself face to face with a mounted deer head. It stared right into my soul before I tore my eyes away and continued down the hall. The whole thing was being filmed at a remote lodge in Montana. It seemed a bit random, but when I’d asked, Brady had mentioned something about a state tax credit and budget restrictions.
“Don’t get overwhelmed, but you’ll be meeting a lot of people when we first get down there. We’ve split everyone into two groups. You’ll meet one set first, and then we’ll bring the others in.”
I practically had to jog to keep up with his hurried pace.
“I’ll put you in one of the side rooms we use for interviews and knock when it’s time for your big entrance.
“The sound guy will come in and get you all mic’d up. Remember, any time you’re in the lodge, there will be hidden cameras recording you. It’s vitally important that you don’tremove your mic during filming, and you stay in the designated rooms. You remember which ones those are, right?”
He’d provided me with a map yesterday that labeled all of the areas of the lodge that we’d have access to. I thought back to that, recalling most of the information. My head spun trying to process it all. I was surprised to learn they’d be filming us even during our downtime. Wouldn’t people just be tuning in for the competition aspect? Maybe they thought there would be drama among the contestants. They certainly wouldn’t be getting that from me. Confrontation gave me hives.
Brady stopped abruptly at a wooden door in the middle of the hallway. I recognized it instantly as the room where we’d filmed my introduction interview. They had peppered me with question after question about my “sob story,” as the producers had so eloquently called it. I had tried to limit the information I’d shared with them as much as possible. The last thing I wanted was for people to root for me because they felt sorry for me.
“Okay, here we are.” He ushered me inside. “Our sound guy will be here in a moment, then someone will come get you when we’re ready.”
I nodded.
Brady sighed. “You know you’ll actually have to speak once you get out there, right?”
“Of course,” I said hollowly. Piper had made me promise to make an effort, but my heart wasn’t in this at all. I suddenly felt desperate to be back home in the comfort of my small apartment.
