1
Felix
I’d made a mistake.
Well, I’d made several mistakes—a series of mistakes, even—but the big one, right now, had four walls and a roof, and my only way out was to plumb the depths of my soul, and open a vein over my keyboard.
… or just write the book I’d promised would be done a month ago.
The book that was currently three sentences long, one of which I kept cutting and then retyping endlessly.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and nearly slipped out of my freezing fingers as I struggled to answer it.
“Settling in okay?” Angelica—my agent—asked as soon as I picked up, her familiar voice crackling through the speaker.
Great. Spotty reception on top of everything else.
“The heating isn’t working,” I said through gritted teeth, snuggling further under my blanket.
“Need me to find someone to fix it?”
“There was a number on the fridge.” I sighed. “Well, a post-it note with ‘problems?’written on it, and a number underneath. I texted and explained. The guy told me he’d be here in an hour, and that was almost two hours ago. It’s freezing. I think you sent me here to die.”
Angelica snorted. “You’re so lucky you’ve got talent,” she said. “Because you’re such a drama queen.”
“Speaking of drama and queens…”
“No,” she said.
“Whynot?” I asked, biting my lip. There was areasonI was only three sentences into this book, and Angelica knew it. If she wanted it finished in my lifetime…
This was the sticking point.
“Because the publisher only wants it if it’s ownvoices, we’ve had this discussion.”
“I am actually gay,” I pointed out. “I mean, Alex can be gay, he doesn’t have to be bi, I just thought that’d be nice. I can do gay. He just… he and Eliot are made for each other. Literally. I made them, for each other.”
The way Angelica sighed told me she was pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you just hate money? Is that it?”
Rain dripped from the window outside. Did we really have to have this argument again?
Yeah. Yeah, we did, because it was about more than writer’s block, and it was definitely about more than money.
It was about fourteen-year-old Felix needing this book. It was about all the fourteen-year-olds who felt the same way, who just needed to see someone like them living a full, exciting life, and loving and being loved in return.
“Gay YA is hot right now. You should be assuming that this is some kind of cynical money-grabbing scheme on my part.”
“Gay YA is hot totalkabout, you’ll lose half your school library sales and youknowthat’s where the money comes from.”
“I don’t care,” I said, biting my lip. Ididn’tcare. I had more money than I knew what to do with already, why couldn’t I have this one thing?
“Well, your publishersdo,” Angelica said.
“But Iamgay,” I pointed out again. “Itisownvoices.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way.” Angelica paused to sigh again. “These aren’t my words, okay? But you’re not the rightkindof gay.”
Athumpfrom the attic stopped my simmering anger from bubbling over just in time. I wasn’t mad at Angelica and I didn’twantto snap at her. This wasn’t her decision, she was just trying to protect my career.
