Tag: Sam

Professional Progress Report

Posted on by Betsey Horton

Just stopping by to update anyone who cares about my progress in becoming a professional writer/digital nomad. Someday I will be financially and location independent. For now, I remain trapped in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Alas.

Novel

Several weeks have passed since I started working on my novel again. Things have progressed well. I’ve been reading through my website archives and pulling out what I need for my narrative. It’s so much easier with the new outline I made. The new outline is allowing me to mercilessly cut out all of the extra crap that has accumulated over time. Killing my darlings has never been so easy.

It’s trucking along well. I’ve been trying to do a little bit every day. Reading my blog from the beginning can be a challenge for me sometimes. It makes me very emotional given everything that has happened since I started. I constantly find myself frustrated by the fact that I established several things up-front (ig: I’m a writer, I’m writing a memoir about my life, I struggle with depression/anxiety, I have a bad history with relationships, and I’m trying to work through my issues), yet so many people refuse to acknowledge any of this. I’m tired of intentionally being misunderstood.

It’s also clear from the early blogs what those people from Bloody Mary’s were trying to do to me. There were clearly coordinated efforts to gaslight me, bait me into reacting, and instigate arguments. It’s really pathetic and sad. It’s also glaring obvious what a sociopath the owner really is.

Ah yes, this character. This character I never planned to write, who snuck up on me out of nowhere, took over the narrative, and used everything I wrote against me. What a snake. It’s depressing to read knowing there is now an unpublishable manuscript dedicated entirely to this character and his sexy ways. It’s crazy. I still can’t believe it. So that’s something I constantly have to deal with. Fun!

The good news is, most of the stuff I wrote about him won’t be making it into the final version. The stuff that does remain doesn’t paint a very nice picture of him, mostly because he is not a very nice person. It is what it is.

I’m super nervous to meet with the agent next week, so I signed up for a pitching workshop at the conference to guide me through the most important ten minutes of my life. No pressure or anything, lol. But seriously, I can’t even think about it or I will totally fucking freak out. I don’t have Xanax to help me with panic attacks, so I’m just avoiding thoughts about it altogether.

Overall, I’m very confident in the current version. I believe in the character arc. I really think the flow of the plot makes sense now and that this character’s journey is relatable to people (mainly women) who struggle with mental health and bad relationships. I’m glad I took time away from it. It really allowed me to see the forest from the trees. Thanks again for everything, Paris Writing Workshop. I never would have made it this far without you!

Blog

As I’ve stated before, I am currently in the process of transforming my blog into a profitable business venture. It’s hard. It’s take a long time. I overthink everything and constantly compare myself to the other bloggers and influencers I’ve been studying. I’ve learned to turn the jealousy into motivation, but it can still be a struggle. The grand vision doesn’t line up with the day-to-day yet.

I’ve been developing content plans, which is good, but I’m still falling short on my posting goals. A lot of it has to do with anxiety and general feelings of worthlessness. It’s pretty common in this world to compare yourself to the false perfection promised by Instagram. I am no different. I fall victim to it every day, especially because I go out of my way to study other blogs and websites.

One thing I remind myself is that I’m just not there… yet. I will be someday, but not yet. It doesn’t happen overnight. A solid, high-quality blog takes time to build. These bloggers didn’t do it overnight either. A lot of them struggled for years and constantly moved in and out of their parents’ houses. It’s part of the journey. I can’t fault myself for generally being on the right track.

Courses & Job Hunting

I’m finally starting to make significant headway on this. There’s a lot to learn. I’m transitioning from gig-hopping in the service industry to full-time digital nomad. There’s a lot to learn in terms of practical skills. I’m exploring a lot of different options, such as digital marketing, copywriting, UX writing, and web development. I want to cover all my bases so I have more options.

I’ve worked may way through quite a few of the courses now. I’m developing more of coherent plan as I go along. I look at remote job boards every day to get some idea of what they’re looking for. My anxiety is still preventing me from actually applying, so I’m focusing all my energy on my courses for now. I think once I round out my skillset and build a solid portfolio, I will feel more confident in myself. As they say on FDS, develop the confidence of a mediocre white man.

I was seriously considering signing up for a TEFL certification course, but it’s financially out-of-reach for me at the moment. It’s always something I can do later on when I’m in a stronger financial position. It’s just not in the cards right now. That’s why I decided to focus my energy on the skills I’m learning from Udemy for $12 a course. The projected salaries for these jobs are also much higher, which is better for my champagne lifestyle.

Networking & Social Life

This is going poorly, as per usual. I tried to put myself out there with the Paris International Film Festival and managed to fall spectacularly on my face. My anxiety is high and my confidence is low. However, it’s not really about me at the end of the day. We are here to watch movies and celebrate up-and-coming filmmakers. In life, you don’t always get to walk the red carpet. Sometimes you’re just in the audience, and that’s okay too. I’m just happy to be here supporting other creatives.

I’m still lurking more than commenting in all of the Facebook groups and reddit subs I’ve joined. Every once in awhile, I pose a question. I always get good, helpful responses, whether it’s about job hunting, traveling, digital nomad life, mental health issues, or “leveling up.” Joining online communities is helping me ease back into a social life, which has been really hard for me to do.

I’ve taken a couple communications courses to help me with this ongoing issue. I’m also seeking out CBT workbooks to aid me in my quest to develop meaningful relationships with other people. I’ve never been the most popular person. After everything that happened with Bloody Mary’s, my trust in most people is gone. I’m struggling to learn how to embrace relationships instead of fear them. The pandemic doesn’t help. Neither does the crap that happened with my cousin. Alas, I remain hopeful that someday this will change for the better and I can finally host the fantastic dinner party of my dreams.

Routine

I’m back in a pretty solid routine. I wake up every day at 8am, come to the cafe, write for a few hours, and then spend the afternoon doing whatever I want. I’ve figured out a nice, comfortable way to work from home. I have a little lap desk I use in bed while wearing sweatpants. Yes, I know, I should set up my home office again and I won’t feel so scatterbrained. I’m not there yet. Besides, it’s the middle of the SD winter. It’s dark and cold and my bed is so soft and warm. I don’t want to leave it.

Mental Health

I’m fighting back against the depression and anxiety pretty hard. It’s ruined my life for so many years now. I’m tired of it. I want to be a different person now. A better person. It’s a lot of hard work. Being in this town really doesn’t help. It seems to drag me back down to where I was before in spite of my best efforts.

I’ve had a couple of minor episodes since I got back. The last few days have been particularly hard. That’s why I’m writing this progress report. I feel like I’m about to jump off a cliff, so I need to spell out everything I’m working on to remind myself that it’s a process and I’m just not there yet. Don’t give up now, Betsey! You’re almost there!

I will get there someday. I’m just not there yet. It’s a process. It takes time. It’s okay. I don’t have to justify it to anyone else. All I can do is live my truth.

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SCRIPT: Mad Dog’s Associations

Posted on by Betsey Horton

INT: BLOODY MARY’S BAR – DAY

Mad Dog is sitting at the end of the bar having a drink when Sam comes over to wash the dishes.

Mad Dog: So… about that Super Bowl Party…

Sam: Oh sorry, Pup, but you’re not allowed to come anymore.

Mad Dog: Why not?

Sam: Because of your “associations.”

Mad Dog: Associations? What associations?

Sam: You know… your associations.

Mad Dog gives Sam a weird look and thinks it over for a moment. Finally, he has a realization.

Mad Dog: It was Billy the Biker Guy, wasn’t it?

Sam: What?

Mad Dog: I used to roll with the Bandidos, you know. That was back when I went to Barber College in Sioux City.

Sam: Um… no. Your other associations.

Mad Dog: [thinks it over again] Oh, you mean Doug. Doug the Drug Dealer. I used to sell mattresses for him back in the day. He still owes me money.

Sam: No.

Mad Dog: It was that damn Indian, wasn’t it? Joe Three Deer! He’s always getting me into trouble. He’s the reason I’ll never go back to the Rez. It’s been thirty years and he’s still trying to kill me!

Sam: No, no, no. I meant your OTHER associations.

Mad Dog: Ohhhh… now I see. It was that set of blonde twins I married in Vegas.

Sam: What?

Mad Dog: Yeah, they were my cousins.

Sam: Huh?

Mad Dog: It was a fast wedding.

Sam: Uhhh… no.

Mad Dog: Well then, I have no idea who you’re talking about.

Sam: I’m talking about Betsey. Betsey Horton. The Writer Extraordinaire. You’re guilty by association. Therefore, you’re disinvited to the party. I don’t want you passing information to her about what goes on here, which is a really dumb thing to say because literally nothing is going on here at all. I know that because I’m bored. So bored. So, so, so, so, so bored. That’s why I’m using you to start this shit with her again. Because I’m bored.

Mad Dog: Really?

Sam: Yeah, really.

Mad Dog: [staring at him in disbelief] We don’t talk about you like that.

Sam: It doesn’t matter. You’re guilty by association. Also, I am bored. Did I mention the fact that I’m bored? Because I am really bored.

Mad Dog gives Sam the once over and shakes his head. Then he finishes his drink and gets up to leave.

Mad Dog: You know, this bar used to be a really great place. Now it’s just a bunch of fucking yuppies.

Mad Dog leaves the bar and wanders over to Betsey’s house, where he finds her writing about a bunch of people who have nothing to do with South Dakota at all.

Mad Dog: You’re not gonna believe what just happened to me at Bloody Mary’s.

Betsey: Let me guess. Someone was a douchebag to you because you have the nerve to be seen out in public with me.

Mad Dog: Yeah.

Betsey rolls her eyes, yawns, and goes back to her writing.

Betsey: Well, if they don’t want me writing about them like they’re a bunch of petty assholes, then they should really stop acting like a bunch of petty assholes. Maybe try apologizing instead?

Mad Dog: Ehhh… fuck ’em. Let’s go to a dive bar in some random small town nearby. I’ll introduce you to some real people.

Betsey: I’m already there, fam.

They hop in the car and drive over the bridge to Nebraska.

The End

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STORY: Place Your Bets

Posted on by Betsey Horton

One not so special afternoon, Sam and The Line of Death are all huddled around the end of the bar pouring over pages of stats. Betsey is sitting on the opposite side of the bar watching them with mild interest.

In spite of her better judgment, her curiosity ultimately gets the better of her. She wanders over to the opposite side of the room where all of them are sitting and takes a seat beside Jaimie. All of the old men turn around and look at her suspiciously.

“What’s up, guys?” Betsey asks pleasantly. “I thought I’d stop being anti-social for once and come join the party.”

The Line of Death continues to glare at her in silence. Betsey flips her hair back and smiles cheerfully, determined to make herself some new friends.

“What are you guys working on so diligently over here?”

“It’s stats,” Sam says quickly, holding up a sheet with multiple rows and columns. “For baseball.”

Betsey looks at the sheet of paper and rolls her eyes with disinterest.

“Numbers,” she grumbles. “I’m not so good at those. I’m much better with words, as I’m sure you all have noticed. I still like baseball anyway, especially with the amount of hot beefcakes out there playing the field.”

Sam scoffs and tosses his head back. The expression on his face is that of pure jealousy.

“Beefcakes,” he mutters under his breath. “I’ll show you a hot beefcake…”

“What?”

Sam snaps his head back to attention.

“Huh?”

Betsey shakes her head and turns back to the Line of Death. Their ice cold stares are unwavering.

“So…” she asks casually, “Are you guys taking bets, or what?”

“It’s a one hundred dollar buy-in,” Howard suddenly pipes up. He is short, bald man with a loud, raucous, unforgettable laugh. “We’re betting on whose going to win the game on that TV right over there.”

Betsey turns around and looks at the TV he is pointing to. Then she shrugs to herself and takes out her wallet.

“I’ll give you ten dollars,” she says, slapping her money on the counter. “I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.”

“You can’t join the game if you can’t afford the buy-in,” Harold says very matter-of-factly. He is a tall, skinny man with a penchant for Hawaiian shirts. He pushes up his glasses and clears his throat. “No buy-in, no bets.”

Sam looks back and forth between the group of cranky old men and the spirited young woman who doesn’t quite seem to understand her place. He suddenly sees a major opportunity sitting right in front of him.

“I can always lend you the money for the buy-in,” Sam says casually. He takes out a roll of cash from his pocket and waves it in Betsey’s face. She looks down at it and raises her eyebrow. She too can suddenly see the obvious opportunity there.

“I’m not in the business of borrowing money,” she says, looking back up at Sam. “But I’d be more than happy to work for it.”

“And just what to do you plan to do to earn it?” he asks.

“Whatever you want me to do.”

Sam puts his hands on the counter and leans in closer to her. He looks her up and down with a sneaky little smirk on his face. Betsey sits up straight and leans in too. When their eyes meet, everyone can feel the heat of the spark passing between them. Howard and Harold roll their eyes as Jaimie shifts in his chair uncomfortably.

“In that case, you can meet me in my office later for a private meeting,” Sam says. “We can discuss your future at the company. Perhaps work out some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement?”

“A private meeting, huh? I think I like the sound of that.”

“And I think you’re really gonna like working for me.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. You’ll find that my employees always get treated very well around here. Especially when they behave themselves, listen carefully, and obey all of my orders. Do you understand me?”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” Betsey says in her most flirtatious voice.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Sam’s eyes sparkle down at her. She is just about to respond when Howard clears his throat loudly.

“Can we can get back to the game, please?” he asks in his grumpiest voice.

Betsey looks back at the Line of Death as Harold holds out his hand expectantly.

“Your buy-in, please.”

Sam takes a wad of cash from the money clip and slaps it down on the counter. He looks back at Betsey with a devilish grin on his face. Harold takes the money and puts it in a little bag. Howard makes a quick note on the spreadsheet.

“Team, please.”

Betsey turns around and looks up at the TV. She thinks about it for just a moment before deciding to go with her gut instinct.

“The blue one,” she says confidently.

All of the men around her look at each other and immediately burst out laughing. Sam shakes his head and chuckles softly at her.

“But they’re the worst team in the league!” Jaimie exclaims. “They haven’t won a single game all season!”

“Something tells me their luck is about to change.”

Jaimie folds his arms and looks at Betsey in disgust.

“Look, you can do whatever you want. You have the right to lose. I’m just saying they’re not going to win. It’s statistically impossible. All of us have been pouring over this stuff for years. None of us placed their bets on them. You’re making a big mistake if that’s what your decision is. Sam’s gonna be out a lot of money now because of you.”

“It’s not that much money,” Sam says calmly, watching the exchange with amusement.

“I don’t care about a bunch of spreadsheets,” Betsey snaps. “My gut instinct tells me they’re going to win.”

“Final answer?” Howard asks.

“Final answer.”

The Line of Death chatter quietly among themselves as Howard writes down the bet. Everyone takes a shot a LeRoux to seal the deal and promptly return to watching the game.

Sometime in the bottom of the ninth, a rookie wild card batter hits a home run with all the bases loaded. The four-point run immediately puts them in the lead. The opposing team has no chance to win their lead back.

The Line of Death stare at the TV in shock as the crowd goes wild and the team rushes the field to celebrate their first win of the season. They slowly turn their chairs to see Betsey’s reaction. Much to the their chagrin, she isn’t even watching the game at all. She is simply there writing in her notebook, lost in her own little world. Sam chuckles at the sight as he stands there on one leg and takes it all in.

“Your team won,” Howard says loudly.

Betsey looks up from her notebook and looks around the room in confusion.

“What team?” she asks obliviously, as if she has already forgotten the exchange from just a few hours prior.

“The team you bet on,” Sam reminds her. “The one we all said was going to lose.”

“Oh!” Betsey sits up and smiles in surprise. “See? I told you their luck was about to change! So how much did I win?”

Sam takes the envelope from Harold and counts the cash inside. He sets aside two hundred dollars for himself and hands the rest to Betsey.

“Looks like a thousand dollars,” he says pleasantly. “Congratulations.”

“Wow!” Betsey says, looking down at the envelope in delight. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve had this much money to my name. I think I’m going to go get my nails done to celebrate!”

She promptly stands up and shoves her notebook back into her bag. She motions for Sam to pour them all another shot of LeRoux and raises her glass high above her head.

“Nice doing business with you, boys!” Betsey says cheerfully, slamming down the shot and skipping out of the bar. “See you all tomorrow!”

The Line of Death glares after her as the front door slowly closes behind her.

“She can’t do that!” says one. “That’s unfair!”

“Yeah! She swindled us!” says another. “She must have had some kind of information beforehand that we didn’t.”

“We’ve been robbed!” says the third.

Sam shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“A bet’s a bet,” he says. “She won that money fair and square. Besides, she’s a penniless Writer Extraordinaire. She doesn’t have a steady cash flow like we do. Just let her go out and enjoy herself for once.”

All of the old men grumble and go back to their spreadsheets, annoyed that they’ve been bested by a woman once again.

The End

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SCRIPT: Commercial Break

Posted on by Betsey Horton

Everyone is sitting at Bloody Mary’s Bar minding their own business, except for Betsey. Suddenly, she looks up from her notebook and right into the camera at the audience.

Betsey: We interrupt this episode of Betsey at the Bar to bring you a special message from our sponsors.

The scene changes to a shot of Andrew lounging on his couch watching tv in a PBR t-shirt and a ratty old pair of basketball shorts. His hair is messy and sticking out from the side of his head. Lying on the couch next to him a cute little golden retriever puppy named Sam.

Andrew: Hey Sam-Sam! Do you want a treat?

Sam jumps off the couch and wags his tail enthusiastically.

Andrew: Can you do the special trick I taught you? Can you go get Daddy a beer?

Sam barks enthusiastically and runs out of the room. The camera follows him into the kitchen, where he opens the door to the refrigerator and picks up a pounder of PBR with his mouth. He shuts the door again and carries it back into the living room where Andrew is sitting.

Andrew: Good boy, Sam-Sam! You get a treat!

Andrew takes the beer, tosses Sam a piece of peanut-butter flavored bacon, and smiles at the camera.

Andrew: It’s PBR, the Official Sponsor of Bloody Mary’s Bar!

Sam: Bark bark!

The commercial ends.

The scene changes to an old gas station where Teen Angel is fixing up a car. He is covered in grease and dirt. After working steadily-but-unsuccessfully for a long time, he sighs heavily, puts down his tools, and walks over to a mini-cooler nearby. He pulls out a bottle of Miller High Life, pops the cap, and looks at the camera.

Teen Angel: Miller High Life. The only REAL beer for REAL, hardworking, American men like me.

The commercial ends.

The scene changes to a 1950’s-style suburban kitchen with a cute little brunette housewife setting the table for dinner. She is wearing a nice dress, a frilly apron, and high heels. Her hair is perfectly done up and she has on a full face of makeup. Duke comes home wearing a suit and tie. He hangs his hat up by the door and walks into the kitchen.

Duke: Honey, I’m home!

Duke’s Wife: You’re just in time for dinner, darling. I made your favourite: meat and potatoes with a can of Schlitz on the side.

Duke: Where are the children?

Duke’s Wife: They’re already in bed. I know how you feel about children, honey. They should be neither seen nor heard. That’s why I wanted it to be just us for tonight. I even bought a brand new set of lingerie.

Duke takes the beer and sits down the table. He takes a sip of his Schlitz and smiles happily.

Duke: Ahh, this is the life for me.

Suddenly, he hears somebody calling his name off in the distance. The scene goes blurry as Duke’s daydream dissipates into reality. He finds himself standing in a modern-day suburban kitchen wearing a frilly pink apron. The children are screaming loudly and running around everywhere. He looks down at the pan in front of him and realizes it’s on fire. Suddenly, his wife appears behind him wearing a designer pant suit.

Duke’s Wife: Let me guess. You burned our dinner. Again.

Duke: I’m sorry. It was an accident!

Duke’s Wife: Here I am, out there in the world, working hard, slaving away all day so we can have a good life, and you can’t even have dinner ready when I come home?! What good are you?!

Duke rolls his eyes and goes to the refrigerator to get a can of Schlitz. He raises it up in an imaginary toast as his wife stands there staring at him in utter disbelief.

Duke: Don’t worry, darling. I didn’t burn the beer!

The commercial ends.

The scene changes to Betsey sitting in the bar with a glass of champagne and her notebook. She pours one out for Dubs and orders a Miller High Life instead. Teen Angel serves it to her with a smile on his face. Betsey looks at the camera and winks.

Betsey: I don’t always drink champagne, by when I do, I drink the Champagne of Beers.

Teen Angel: That’s what I’m saying!

The commercial ends.

Betsey: And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Betsey returns to writing in her notebook while her characters return to tending after the bar.

The End


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STORY: Sam’s Little Sister

Posted on by Betsey Horton

Sam’s Mom arrives at Coyote University to help her daughter Vicky move into her freshman dorm. Vicky, who was hoping to go to college somewhere much further away from her family members, is not exactly thrilled at the prospect of once again spending the next four years of her life as “Sam’s Little Sister.”

Her worst fear is immediately confirmed when she goes to pick up her room keys. A set of blonde twins wearing lanyards around their necks are running the check-in table.

“Hi there! Welcome to the dorms! First and last name, please.”

“Vicky Shepherd.”

“Oh, are you Sam’s little sister?”

“Yeah,” Vicky says dryly. She frowns at her Mom. The twins look at each other and giggle.

“Yeah… we know Shep.”

Sam’s Mom raises her eyebrow. The twins hand Vicky her keys and start giggling again. They smile brightly at her.

“Welcome to the dorms!” they say in unison.

When they go upstairs, Vicky meets her new RA.

“Are you Sam’s little sister?” she asks excitedly.

“I sure am,” Vicky says, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess… you know him too.”

“Yeah, I know Shep,” she says with a laugh. “I know Shep very well. I see him around here all the time.”

Sam’s Mom’s mouth drops open.

“Welcome to the floor!” the RA says, showing Vicky to her room.

Sometime later, they go over to pick up Vicky’s class schedule. To the surprise of absolutely no one, the secretary recognizes her last name immediately.

“Are you Sam’s little sister?” she asks with a smile on her face.

“I see you’ve met him before too.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, flipping her hair back. “I know Shep.”

Sam’s Mom shakes her head in disbelief.

“Welcome to Coyote University!”

Vicky storms out of the office angrily. When they go to the book store to pick up Vicky’s books, the same thing happens all over again.

“Are you Sam’s little sister?” asks the girl behind the counter.

“Maybe,” Vicky snaps.

“Yeah, I know Shep,” she says with a sneaky little smile. “We study together in the library.”

“Study?” asks Sam’s Mom.

“Yeah,” she sighs dreamily. “Study…”

Finally, they decide to stop at the student center for a coffee.

“Oh! You’re not Sam’s little sister, are you?”

Vicky is so upset she can’t even respond at this point.

“Yeah, I know Shep too,” says the barista, crossing her arms and frowning. “All the girls around here know who he is.”

Vicky and her Mom walk back to Vicky’s dorm together.

“What’s my son been doing that all these girls know who he is?” their Mom wonders aloud.

“Come on, Mom,” Vicky says, rolling her eyes. “It’s pretty obvious what he’s been doing.”

All of a sudden, Sam walks in carrying a box of Vicky’s stuff. His shirt is notably absent. All of the women in the hallway stop what they’re doing to watch him walk by.

“Hey Vicky,” he says. “I brought in the last of your stuff for ya.”

All of the women’s eyes shift to Vicky. She looks around the hall nervously.

“Can’t wait to have my little sis at school with me again!” Sam says cheerfully.

Vicky scowls at him.

“Yeah.”

“So,” Sam says just loud enough so everyone can hear. “We’re having a party over at the Basketball House tonight. You can come if you want to. Maybe you can even bring some of your new friends.”

All of the freshman girls let out a collective gasp. Vicky’s scowl turns into a glare.

“We’ll see.”

“Yeah, just let me know whenever.”

Vicky turns around and goes back into her room in a huff. A moment later, Sam’s Mom calls out to him.

“Sam, can you come in here for a minute, please?”

“Yeah, sure. Just let me put my shirt back on.”

When Sam walks into Vicky’s dorm room, their Mom is standing there with her arms crossed.

“What?” he asks innocently. “It was hot outside.”

“It’s her first day of college,” she says in a low voice. “She wants to make her own friends. Can you just… cool it down, please?”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“Can I have my car keys back now, please?”

“Sure,” Sam says, tossing her the keys. “I parked it right out front for ya.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“See you later, Vicky!”

Sam winks at her and saunters off down the hall.

“I can’t do this,” Vicky says. “I want to go home right now.”

Her Mom shakes her head.

“Just look on the bright side, sweetie,” she says. “At least you’ll never have any shortage of new friends.”

Sometime later, after their Mom has finally left, Vicky hears a knock at the door. When she opens it, a group of girls is standing outside in the hall.

“Hey,” says the leader girl. “Your name is Vicky, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Was that guy who was here earlier your older brother?”

“Maybe. Who wants to know?”

“Well, we heard him mention something about a party later, and we were just wondering if you were still planning on going. We wouldn’t want you to go alone or anything. It’s better if a group of girls all go together. You know, for safety reasons.”

“Yeah,” pipes up a second girl. “Safety reasons.”

Vicky looks at the girls hesitantly.

“I don’t know…” she says half-heartedly.

“Come on,” says the leader girl. “I bet it will be fun! It’s our first big college party! We can all go down to the dining hall first and then get ready in our rooms later. Then we can all go together.”

“Well…”

“Please?” all the girls say in unison.

Vicky lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay. We can go to the stupid basketball party, but don’t ask me to introduce you to my brother. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to take care of that himself.”

All the girls smile together. As they walk down to the dining hall, Vicky decides to take her Mom’s advice. Maybe it’s better to look on the bright side after all.

The End


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