Don't own, never will. This is one dream that won't come true no matter how many times I wish on a shooting star.
Chapter Four
"Di immortals Annie! You're place is smaller than my bedroom!" Thalia exclaimed as she pushed open the door to Annabeth's new loft without even knocking. She put down the present and put her hands on her hips looking around.
"Thalia!" Annabeth squealed from her small alcove where her small mattress had been stuffed. "I'm not all the way dressed!" She knew Thalia couldn't see her but she nervously grabbed a sweater and pressed it against her chest even though she was wearing a camisole.
"Really Annie, you think I care? I'm a girl, you're a girl. I don't think you have anything I don't. Well except-"
"Thalia I don't need to know!" Annabeth screeched, cutting her best friend off. Thalia gave her a funny smile as she sat down on the small, rundown couch Annabeth had managed to push into the corner of her loft.
Annabeth pulled on her sweater over her tank top and then climbed down the small ladder which was built into the wall. "How the heck did you even get in here in the first place?" She asked.
"You forgot to lock your doors, which you don't do in New York Annie, you'd think you'd remember that little detail. You never know who could come knocking at the weird hours of the night when you're up late," Thalia said suggestively raising an eyebrow at her best friend.
"Oh drat, I did forget about that," Annabeth muttered. "I knew I forgot something." She reached up and pulled her messy blond curls up into a bun with the stray ponytail that was always on her wrist.
"Well don't worry, you lived to tell the tale. But seriously what the heck! Why is your house so small!" Thalia demanded.
"First of all Thals, it's not a house, it's a loft. Second of all not all of us are trust fund kids and can live in penthouses that are worth millions," Annabeth huffed. "And it looks bigger… when it's cleaned."
"You mean when there's not a bunch of random books lying all over the place," Thalia criticized as she picked up a random book and examined it. "A Picture of Dorian Gray? Who reads this stuff?" She asked looking at the dark background with a raised eyebrow.
"I do!" Annabeth said defensively as she snatched the book away and placed it on her desk which was just as bad as her coffee table. Books were piled everywhere. They were overflowing from the bookshelves, peeking out under couches, on top of the small television. She had only been here two days and her books were already overtaking her life.
But she liked it that way.
"What are you doing here anyway Thalia? I mean other than criticizing my decorating skills?" Annabeth questioned.
"Annie, honey, you can't call it decorating when you just randomly pile books everywhere," Thalia grinned. "And I came with a Welcome to the Neighborhood gift!" She said pointing at the brightly colored present on the table.
"Thals you don't even live in my neighborhood," Annabeth said, rolling her eyes. Thalia lived in one of the high end apartments in New York: Hestia's Hearth. Annabeth had stayed with her and her brother Jason for two weeks while she hunted for an apartment. The apartment she found was a bit on the smaller side and was run down but with a bit of TLC… which Annabeth didn't have at all… it would be livable. Or at least that's what the man who ran the apartments, Janus, had told her.
Annabeth loved the little loft though, it was the perfect area for an aspiring writer, she had decided. Small and compact. Which made it easier to clean. She actually was a neatfreak… when it came to the important things. But she could never keep her books organized or her desk clear of papers no matter how hard she tried.
"Oh whatever, minor details," Thalia said waving her hands in the air. "Will you open it all ready?" She asked, grinning and bouncing up and down.
"Careful with your bouncing Thals, the couch is old and it could break at any moment," Annabeth said without looking up from the books she was stacking up in what she hoped looked like an organized fashion.
Thalia stopped bouncing.
"Will you open the present already? Please Annie?" Annabeth sighed.
"Give me," she said, holding out her hands. Thalia grinned and handed her the bag over filling with wrapping paper. Annabeth took it and carefully pulled the wrapping paper out. Maybe she could reuse it, she didn't have that much money to spare on wrapping paper.
Annabeth pulled out a bundle of movies. She laughed. Only Thalia would give her movies. She always claimed that movies were better than books anyway.
"They're all your favorites! But in movie form which makes them so much better!" She said eagerly. "Jason and I had a blast trying to find them all."
"How many are there?" She asked, sorting through them.
"About twenty, but really we have money to spare. Why not use it on my best friend?" Thalia asked. Annabeth gave her a hug.
"You're amazing!" She said. "And now I don't have the twins to ruin them all." She looked at the first one which was the Phantom of the Opera, one of her favorite books and musicals of all time. Underneath that was Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights, and Howl's Moving Castle, one of her favorite movies based off of one of her favorite books she read when she was a kid.
"And we can watch them together!" Thalia said.
"I don't get you Thals, you'll watch the movies but you won't even touch the books," Annabeth said.
Thalia shrugged. "I read Harry Potter for you," she argued. "I even went with you to the Midnight release of the last one. I felt like such a nerd," she muttered.
"Thanks," Annabeth said. "So why are you really here? Other than to give me a boat load of movies and complain about the size of my loft," Annabeth asked as she curled up in her rocking chair which she had found at a Thrift Store. Thrift Stores were very helpful for girls in her case. Girls who needed a job.
Badly.
"I was wondering if you'd go to a party with me next week. I thought I should tell you know so that you have time to plan," Thalia said eagerly.
"A party? Come on Thals, I hate parties and you know it," Annabeth said, holding her shabby pillow to her chest. Parties meant people and people meant annoying, pointless chatter where people didn't care about the words they used. It annoyed her. Why couldn't people care? Parties meant people just pursuing their pleasures.
Hmm, decent alliteration Annabeth, good job she thought to herself. She'd have to write that one down.
"Come on Annabeth, for me." Oh great, she was using the Annabeth card, she only called her Annabeth when she wanted something. "There'll be all these people from highschool there!"
"And that will make it so much better," Annabeth said, rolling her stormy grey eyes. Honestly she wanted to forget all about highschool, not relive it all.
"Please Annabeth," Thalia begged. "It will be good experience for your book."
Ah yes, her book. Annabeth looked out of the corner of her eye to her laptop, still in the same place where she left it last night after continually banging her head against the keys. Her book was driving her insane. It wasn't just writer's block. It was writer's run into a cement wall. Her characters weren't working for her, they seemed just as deep as the piece of paper she worked on. Which wasn't very deep at all. Her villain was shallow and had no depth which was something Annabeth strongly believed against. Her hero was weak and she couldn't stand her main female role. She made Annabeth cringe every time she spoke. And she was the one writing her. Imagine what the people who read about her would think.
She'd be a laughing stalk.
She'd be the new Stephanie Meyers, god forbid that to happen.
She was willing to try anything to not be thrown into that boat. Anything. Her book would not become like Twilight.
"Fine," she sighed.
"Great, I'll email you the details," Thalia squealed. "Now where's your bathroom, I had a 20 ounce Carmel Mocha Frappe before coming here."
Annabeth pointed to her kitchen where the bathroom was nestled in the corner, barely big enough for a shower, toilet and sink. She didn't even think that it was physically possible to fit all those pieces into one bathroom.
Thalia stood up, stretched and then sauntered in, making comments about the size of her loft. When she entered into the bathroom, Annabeth heard her let out a groan. "Annie do you seriously have a stack of books in your bathroom?" Thalia yelled.
Annabeth grinned.
Annabeth sat down at her laptop with a steaming mug of Spiced Tea. She had finally kicked Thalia out after agreeing to watch Beauty and the Beast with her (Annabeth's favorite Disney movie) and that led to them watching the Lion King (Thalia's favorite).
She opened her laptop up and powered in on. She sat there for a moment drumming her fingertips on the wooden desk, trying to think. Thalia's words a few weeks ago had given her idea, something to distract her from her novel yet still keep her writing. She better start it now.
W4W: Putting something off only makes it worse, you think it makes it better but in reality you're only hurting yourself. So tell someone you love them, kiss the girl of your dreams, go and travel the world. Or else you'll spend your whole life wondering about what could have been.
She logged onto Writer's Corner, a website which allowed aspiring authors to publish their books, their poetry, plays, songs, anything and other writers could read it and critique it. She had been working on the website since she was fourteen and she had gained minor fame on the internet for her stories and her poetry.
WiseGirl36. The girl who seemed to always have witty phrases, quotes to live by, and stories that made you cry. Or at least that was what one of her "fans" said about her. Annabeth snorted. They would all be so disappointed if they could see her now, banging her head against her keyboard. Why was it so damn hard to write?
Deep breathes Annabeth, deep breathes. Freaking out will only get you one step closer to a heart attack and grey hairs she warned herself.
Annabeth clicked the link to publish a new story. She took a deep breath again and then typed in her title for her new story: The Letter Writer.
She thought for a minute before writing her synopsis. A lonely girl leaves letters in her school's library books, hoping that someone will hear her with a voice she never thought she had. A boy finds them and begins to fall in love with the mysterious girl behind the ink and paper. But then the letters all of a sudden stop. And he can't help but wonder what happened to her. So begins a journey of love, passions, words, music, pain, beauty, truth, and letters as the boy tries to discover the mysteries and the magic behind the Letter Writer.
Annabeth nodded to herself. Sometimes the best things to write about were the things closest to home. She clicked on the button for the first chapter. She thought for another moment. Thinking was good, planning was good, randomly spewing words on a piece of paper was bad. She learned that very early. You lost interest that way.
The girl stood in front of the library book shelves which seemed bigger now, a letter clutched in her hands…
She woke up with the sun. Jerking up from where she was laying, her cheek now imprinted with fresh markings of the keyboard, she rubbed her eyes. She must have fallen asleep while typing. It wasn't something new or anything. She did it quite often when she was trying to type. Her tea was cold. Yep she'd fallen asleep.
Yawning, Annabeth looked at her computer which was on its sleep monitor. She clicked a button and it woke up. Her screen popped up with the home page for her new story she had published: The Letter Writer.
She nearly fell out of her seat.
18,000 views in six hours, 344 reviews, 478 favorites, and 394 follows. All in six hours. She nearly screamed. Annabeth knew that people followed her but she had no idea this many people would read her story.
She squealed as she clicked on the reviews and began to read them all. To her reviews were like trophies, each one another trophy for her bookshelf. Of course there were all the flames and everything. But that came with the territory of being a writer.
One caught her eye from a certain: GreenEyes&BlueCoke: Your words seem to haunt me as I read them. There's passion behind each word and it captivates me. Your writing is familiar, your story is familiar. I feel like I already know you. I want to read more, I need to read more.
And that was all.
They found her story familiar? Who were they?