Christi POV

My heart was pounding against my ribcage, making my breath hitch and my hands shake. I cautiously pulled the cardboard box out from under my bed; the one filled with unopened white envelopes.

I slowly dug through the box, lifting each envelope gently and reading the title. At last, I found the one I was looking for. In cursive sharpie, 'Your First Book Has Been Published' was written in the center.

Three months ago, I sent my first novel that I wrote in the hospital and have been editing ever since: A Rose That Never Withers. I sent it to a young adult publishing house called Narrow.

Early this morning, Mom had handed me a sealed manila envelope from Narrow. Inside were the forms for publishing a book. I had been accepted. I was overcome with waves of emotions; thrill, excitement, worry that people wouldn't like my book, anxiety, pride and relief.

I closed my eyes and pried open the top. I dumped the letter into the palm of my hand and bought it to my lips. Instantly, a flashback of Rose flooded my mind. Her combat boots, the blue hospital gown, her neon beanies and her vibrant personality.

I fell over, collapsing in the curls of my white shag carpet. Tears sprang to my eyes and I struggled to hold them back. Rose, oh Rose.

Minutes later, I sat up and forced myself to read the letter.

Dear Christi,

OH MY GOSH! YOU GOT YOUR BOOK HAS BEEN PUBLISHED! I knew it would happen! I never doubted it! Congratulations. The publishing company is lucky to have come across you and definitely won't regret it.

I know you're scared that people won't like your book. Don't be. I can see it now! Little Suzie Jones is wondering through the shelves in Barnes and Noble. Curious, Suzie picks up the newest book. The author is non other then Christine Jackson. Suzie opens the book and reads the first sentence of the first page. Gasping with awe and captivation, Suzie walks, while still reading, over to her mother.

"Mommy! We have to buy this book! It's amazing!" she cries. Sadly, Suzie's mother shakes her head. Suzie throws a massive fit, claiming she would die if she didn't finish it!

That's how beyond awesome I know you're book is. I just regret that I can't be there to read. But I'll be watching when you sign the conformation forms. I'll be the one pressing your pen to the paper and surging your heart with the upmost of pride.

Congratulations, Christi. Miss and love.

Rose Thomas

I pressed the letter to my chest and felt cool tears slip down my cheeks. I missed her so much. I haven't had a best friend for seven years. I don't want to get attached.

I glanced at the mirror, accessing the slim, white dress Hazel had loaned me. It was a bit more tight then I would have wanted and it put more curves in my waist then I had. I stood to the side, puffing out my chest and smoothing my hair behind my ears.

Today was the big day and I wasn't going to mess it up. My dark brown hair was set in long curls that swung loosely on my back. I wore buckle boots and a touch of makeup.

"Christi!" called Mom, from downstairs. "Let's go, honey!"

I nodded at the mirror once more and grabbed my bag of the rail of my bed. I slid downstairs and into the garage where Mom's white minivan awaited. I climbed into the passenger seat and double checked the things I had placed in my bag; a pad of paper, three pens, the conformation forms, a packet of Spearmint gum, Gone With The Wind novel and the letter from Rose.

"Alright," I whispered to my mother. "I'm ready."

Mom squeezed my hand, sending warmth down my arm. She smiled at me, curly blonde hair framing her face. Her grey eyes intently studied my face. "Christi. Everything will flow smoothly. We're just going to meet with the publisher and discuss cover art." "I know," I replied, heart thumping. "Thanks, Mom." Mom nodded, knowing she hadn't gotten through to me and started the car. Ten minutes later, we were seated in the Narrow office, waiting for our publisher.

I tapped my toes on the plain, black carpeting. Mom and I were seated in uncomfortable dark oak chairs with a navy frame. In the right corner, a matching couch was pressed to the mocha wall. We were facing a dark oak desk, plated with the plaque reading: Wanda Murray, Narrow Housing Publisher; Trista Mackerel, Cover Art Operative; Harold Daniels, Manager of Editing.

Mom squeezed my hand again. Suddenly, the door swung open. Three people walked in. One woman was squat and plump, with frizzled gray hair, a prim black dress and tiny feet squished into black high heels. The other woman was tall and extremely thin. Half of her head was shaved and the other half was covered with thick, blood red hair. She wore a baggy hot pink dress with a sag collar and black high tops. The man wore square glasses and a grey suit. His head was bald and he fidgeted constantly.

They sat down and the plump woman extended a hand. "Hello," she said dully. "My name is Wanda Murray and I am the Narrow Housing Publisher. I seal deals and make sure everything turns out right. These are my associates: Trista Mackerel and Harold Daniels." "Hi!" exclaimed Trista. When we shook hands, she pumped her arm up and down enthusiastically. "I'll be designing your cover, today. How are you?" "Good-" I began, but was interrupted by Harold.

In a wheezing, thickly nazeled voice, he croaked, "I'm Harold Daniels and I make sure each page is printed correctly."

Mom raised her eyebrows at him and chuckled nervously. "How…lovely! I'm Annabeth Jackson and this is my daughter, Christi."

Wanda smiled. The smile didn't travel to her brown eyes. "'A Rose That Never Withers'?" she wanted to know.

I nodded sheepishly. "Yes, mam."

"Ahhh! We all loved reading that. Truly an inspirational novel, my dear. And how old are you? Twelve?" Wanda asked.

"Four-"

"Fourteen," ended Harold. "Yes, I agree. The book was both tasteful and definitely tugged at my heart strings!"

"Thank you," I said quickly, hoping not to get cut off again.

Trista laid a hand over her chest. "That was so touching! How on earth did you get the inspiration?" I blushed deeply. "Um, actually, it really happened. When I was seven…" I couldn't finish.

Wanda waved it off. "It's alright. Onto the topic of the cover."

"Ooh! I was thinking something classy. You know, an up-close shot of a perfect rose. Or…Oh, my gosh! I just got it! A rose lying on a table with a neon beanie hat, a Romeo and Juliet hat and….oh! A hospital bracelet! Perfect! I am a genius!" squealed Trista.

Mom nudged me. "Well, Christi? What do you think?"

I nodded slowly, liking the idea more by the minute. "Oh, I think it's wonderful."

"Great!" Trista jumped up. "I'll run this by my peers and then begin the photography. Nice meeting you, Mrs. Jackson. And you, too, Christi."

Trista left, saluting playfully and shutting the door. Wanda smiled again. "That's our Trista!" she chuckled. "Always getting things done."************************************************************************ It was time. Time to open the package. The package that contained the first copy of my book. I slid my finger underneath the yellow wrapping and gently tore it.

I inhaled and dumped the book into the palm of my hand. It was thick, yet slender. The cover felt waxy and the pages were soft and easy to turn. I cracked open my eyes, peeking through the lids.

I shrieked with delight! My book was phenomenal. The six by four novel's cover was just as Trista had foretold. A blood red rose lay angelically upon a black table. To the left, a neon orange beanie hat was folded limply. To the right, a torn, pale blue hospital bracelet and a playbook copy of Romeo and Juliet. At the top, in black cursive, 'A Rose That Never Withers' was written. And at the bottom, in matching lettering, was 'A Novel By: Christine A. Jackson'.

It was perfect.

Sorry for not updating sooner! I got a lot of requests for Christi, so here she is! The next chapter is going to be about Hazel. Thank you so much for the genuine ideas! I plan to incorporate many!