Текст книги "Naked"

Автор книги: Stacey Trombley

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Forty

Sometimes being interviewed is a chance to stop playing games. It’s just you, them, and the truth.

My palms sweat as I shift in the metal chair.

The room is quiet. Just me and a gray-haired woman in a blazer, sitting at her desk as she flips through my portfolio.

Why doesn’t she speak? Say something! I want to scream at her.

“You’ve had quite a life, Miss Rodriguez,” the woman says, monotone. I can’t tell if this is good or bad. She knows about my past. Will this mean she won’t want me in her school?

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

She finally looks up, and I see a tiny spark of life in her brown eyes. “Will you tell me about it?”

I swallow. “I was a teenage prostitute,” I say. It still sounds so strange to say, to admit out loud, but it’s no secret anymore.

She looks down at one of my paintings. One I keep in my portfolio just because I know how many people find it interesting. It’s of a girl sitting on the curb in a dark city, her arms curled around her legs, dark hair covering her face. She’s hiding, even from the view of the painting.

She flips the page to another, one I like much better than the street picture.

It’s a girl’s face, screaming while the world whizzes by around her. Everything is blurry except the girl.

“Tell me about this.”

“That’s always how I felt before and after my time on the streets. Like I was screaming for help, but no one would stop to help me. Like no one cared.”

“But you got out of that life.”

“Yes, ma’am. There are hopeful pictures in there, too. I use both the light and the dark of my past as inspiration.”

She nods. “You have quite a perspective, that’s for sure.” She pauses. “Tell me why you want to go to my school.”

My heart hammers, head pounds.

“Art is my outlet. It’s the way to express myself, the way I communicate with the world. I want to go to your school because I feel you can teach me the skills I need. Make me better. There’s nothing else I want more than to be an artist.”

The woman smiles. She actually smiles. I wasn’t sure she was capable for a second.

“Anna, it takes a lot more than skill to be an artist.” She folds her hands in front of her. “That being said, I’m hopeful that you have what it takes. I’d love an opportunity to see what else you have in you.”

My heart stops. “Does that mean I’m in?”

“I can’t make that call alone. It has to be decided by a committee. But they listen to my recommendations.” She chuckles. “So while I can’t guarantee anything, I’d be very surprised if we don’t see you this summer.”

She stands, and I stand, and she shakes my hand.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Good luck, Anna. You’ll hear from us soon.”

My head’s spinning, and I walk slowly toward the door. Once it’s shut behind me, I turn to my mother and Jackson, who are sitting on a bench outside the room, waiting for me.

They both jump up and hug me. It’s just a summer art school. Even if I get in, it probably won’t mean that much in the long run, but to me, it means everything. It’s a step toward a new future.

“I knew they’d love you,” Jackson says as we leave the building side by side, my mother behind us, smiling.

“I don’t have a yes yet. I won’t find out for sure for a few more weeks.”

“They’re crazy if they don’t let you in.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, but you’re always optimistic. I’m a realist.”

“A realist who was totally wrong.”

I shrug. “They’ll just hate me once I start taking classes,” I say, but I can’t hide my huge grin.

“Probably,” he says.

I punch him in the arm, and he laughs.

Once we’re outside, my mom says, “Anna? Where’s the best sushi place around here?”

I stop at the corner of the street and think. Taxis fly by us; crowds of people walk past. I know New York better than my mother ever will. All of these places have memories connected to them. Not all of them the best memories. But today, the entire city feels like the place I always dreamed it could be. A city of hope.

“How about we try someplace new?” I ask. Then I remember one place I’d always wanted to try. “What about some Indian food?”

“Ooh! Sounds delicious,” my mom says.

I’m not afraid of the past anymore, and I’ve opened up to Jackson and my mom more than I ever thought I could, but now I’m all about moving on. All about the new.

I have no idea what will happen now. If I’ll get my GED and go to college in the next year. If I’ll make it into this art school for the summer. But I’m not really worried about it.

I’m not perfect. I never will be. But I’m okay with that.

For once, I’m actually happy just being me.

Anna.

Acknowledgments

I am incredibly blessed to have my name, my words, in print. So many people had a hand in helping me to get here, some more direct than others, but they all deserve a huge thank you!

First, I have to thank my amazing and supportive husband, Sean…who I will never forget to thank again! ;) You were my very first fan and biggest supporter! I love you!

Plus the rest of my insane family! Love you guys!

A big, huge, massive thanks to my editor Stephen. Without you, this book might never have seen the light of day. Thank you for seeing its amazing potential and being willing to do whatever it took to get it where it needed to be! Thank you for all your hard work and thank you thank you for believing in me!

Thank you to all the writing friends I’ve made along the way. Each and every one of you has made an impact on me and my writing. Some specific thanks go to: Stacey Nash—you’re so giving and rarely ask for anything in return. Thank you! Naomi Hughes—thank you for your encouraging words and helpful critique when I was still just starting out on this crazy road to publication. Rebecca Yarros—I didn’t know you personally when you helped a little newbie writer back in the day, but now that I do I know you are even more incredible than I thought back then (which is saying something!). Laura Timms—thank you for your encouragement and reading my revision before it went off to the acquisitions board. Thank you to all my friends involved in Unborn Writers, my old writing group. It was an awesome time with all of you. And of course, thanks to all the friendly folks who helped me with my query and pitch. You guys rock!

Thank you to everyone involved in the online writing community. You all amaze me every day. Thank you to Brenda Drake and Erica Chapman for seeing something in this crazy little story during Pitch Madness. You sincerely gave me the confidence I needed. Thank you to the folks at Query Kombat– Michelle, SC, and Michael, for involving me and being so supportive ever since! Thank you to Tamara and Jessa for running Pitchmas. Without you, Stephen may have never stumbled upon my pitch for NAKED. I owe you much, ladies!

I already mentioned this person, but she deserves a double thanks for all that she does. She is so incredibly modest about the impact that she has had on so many writers. The online writing community would not be the same without you! Brenda Drake—you are truly incredible!!

Thank you to the folks at Absolute Write. It’s a roller coaster ride there sometimes, but I’ve grown exponentially by being a part of your totally insane community. And thank you to Victoria Strauss for being so giving to writers everywhere!

Lastly, I owe the thanks of all thanks to my God. This passion has been the most incredible gift I’ve ever been given. So THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!! You are truly amazing.

About the Author

Stacey Trombley lives in Ohio with her husband, her new baby boy, and the sweetest Rottweiler you’ll ever meet. She thinks people are fascinating and any chance she has, she’s off doing or learning something new. She went on her first mission trip to Haiti at age twelve and is still dying to go back. Her “places to travel” list is almost as long as her “books to read” list.

She wants to bring something new to the world through her writing, but just giving a little piece of herself is more than enough.

www.staceytrombley.com

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