DAY #15: [supposed to be] Halfway Point

I should be at 25,000. I'm 5,000 words behind. 10 freaking pages. No biggie. I love how I can write 8 page papers in 2 hours but it takes so long to write 10 pages of a novel. What happened to the days where I could sprint through 5 chapters a day, clearing several thousand words at a time? Upsetting, but at least these past few chapters have been moving the plot along, instead of that one random chapter in which literally NOTHING HAPPENS except pointless (but nevertheless really cute) dialogue.

Anyway. Here's some of what I've accomplished today (from chapter 6)

“Shhh,” Allie hushes. “Let her finish.”

Emma smiles slightly and keeps talking as if nothing had interrupted her. “The day I left, he came over with a box of brownies that his mom made…”

Livy smiles and croons a sincere and heartfelt “awwwwww,” ignoring the side glances from her other friends.

“… some flowers, and a giant packet,” Emma continues. “He gave me the brownies and flowers first, told me to put them in the car, and then took me by the hand and led me around to the backyard, under our tree.”

“Now how can you say things like that and then claim that you guys weren’t in a relationship?” Reina accuses in exasperation.

Emma shrugs. “I don’t know. We were really close friends. He was always grabbing me by the hand; that was normal for us.”

Reina lets out an impatient sigh; Livy pats her gently on the shoulder and tells her to be quiet so Emma can finish the story. “You guys were standing under your tree,” Livy prompts.

“Yea. And he handed me the packet. It was freaking huge, and all wrapped up with a huge ribbon. I asked him what it was. He didn’t answer my question. He just gave me a really long hug and said, ‘good luck in New York City. You’re getting the chance that the rest of us aren’t going to have. When you make it to Broadway, don’t forget us here in Clermont. And don’t look at this until you get into the car.’ He made me promise I wouldn’t look at the packet, and I promised.”

“Well what was the packet?” Reina asks.

Emma closes her eyes. The mysterious packet is sitting right now squarely in the middle of her desk. It is dusty from being hidden in a box for so long, but the conditions of the pages are pristine. She has taken such good care of it. “The first page had a note. It said ‘do you remember two summers ago, when you told me to write you a song?’

“Of course I did. I actually got kind of upset at that point, because I realized that I was going to leave and never get my song. Anyway, under the question, he wrote ‘Here’s your song, plus interest.’

“I flipped the page, and the next page was a title page.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. Tears collect onto the edges of her eyelids, quivering, threatening.

“What was the title?” Livy asks quietly, her voice full of expressive concern.

Emma takes another deep breath. “It was a script. For a musical titled Emma’s Play. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read.”