She squeezed the hand on my shoulder. “Well, you really are your father’s kid. The best parts. It was hard for me, for a bit, to see them in you. But they make me happy now.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Me too.”
22
KIRA
The Burrow Bitches
Kira: *one attachment* Look, I alphabetized the spice cabinet!
Ariadne: Please just submit your application already.
Britney: i’m all for procrastinating but even i know this has gone too far
Macey: She’s already rearranged all the bathroom products and learned to juggle.
I sat cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced precariously on the fleece blanket covering my knees. My favorite flannel pajama pants—blue plaid and fraying at the seams—were keeping me cozy, as well as the sweatshirt that boldly proclaimedHot girls make art.
“Okay, hold on,” I muttered, fingers hovering over the trackpad. Macey was perched on the armof the couch, cradling a mug of coffee that smelled like hazelnut.
“Kira, you’ve been holding on for twenty minutes,” Macey teased, her grin wide enough to rival the sun that was struggling to peel through the gray sky. She nudged my shoulders. “Hit. The. Button.”
“I’m checking for typos,” I shot back, though my stomach was doing somersaults at the thought of sending my art residency application. The blinking cursor mocked me as it hovered over theSubmitbutton.
“You’ve read it so many times, you probably know it better than your name. Your art pieces have already been dropped off at the studio. Just send the rest of the application in already!”
I inhaled sharply, the way I pictured an actor would before stepping on stage. This was it—the culmination of months of sketching, painting crappy canvases, starting over, and late-night sessions where I wondered if my dreams were too big to obtain. The Chicago Echo Studio program could change everything.
“What if they hate it?” I whispered, glancing at Macey. “What if they think my art is a joke?”
Macey set the mug down on the coffee table and placed her hands on my shoulders. Her eyes softened, but her voice was firm. “First of all, your work is incredible, and if they don’t see that, they’re idiots. Second, how much time have you and I wasted by doing things because we felt like we had to, not because we wanted to? This is your opportunity to do something you love. At the very least, you put together an amazing application, and you should be proud.”
I nodded, feeling like words wouldn’t escape my mouth even if I tried.
“Now hit the button so we can celebrate. Those cookies aren’t going to eat themselves.”
Cookies?
No.Focus, Kira.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a heartbeat longer, and then—click.
TheYour Application Has Been Submitted!message popped up, and for a moment, everything was still.
“OH MY GOD!” Macey practically tackled me, sending the laptop onto the blanket and me into a fit of giggles.
“I did it,” I said, voice shaky. “I actually did it!”
The Kira of a year ago—hell, even a few months ago—could have never pictured this moment: pursuing a career path outside of what I majored in college. Celebrating the submittal of an application, instead of waiting to see if I won.
Because as much as I hoped that I was selected, I knew I had already overcome the most difficult hurdle: putting myself out there. Challenging myself.
Dare I say I was enjoying doing scary things?
“You freaking did it!” Macey whooped, jumping off the couch and doing a ridiculous victory dance that involved flailing arms and what looked like an attempt at the worm.
I clutched my sides, laughing so hard I could barely breathe. “What are you doing?”
