Another journal

Well, that’s done. I wrote a pretty-close-to-novel-length book in a year and serialised it here. I’m not super sure as to what I’m going to do with it now, but here’s the plan:

• Sometime after my birthday in April, re-read it as a whole and edit it. That should be enough time to give my brain some distance to look at the thing more objectively.

And yeah, that’s all the plan I got. Did you read The Audacity Gambit? Did you like it? Hate it? Could you tell me?

I mean, for realsies folks. I wrote this thing to get it out of my head, but now what. I don’t know if I should go the self-publishing route or if something serialised online like this is worth shopping around to real book people. Or should I just leave it sit here and call it good?

So what do I do next? No idea.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

You can find all the sections here.

Even the Terrin’s double-wide trailer was too small for everyone and their kids. A loose group milled in the common yard around the arbour, exhaling visible puffs of breath in the chilling air. Lawn torches were staked around the edges of the grassy area, adding a hellish tiki light to the gathering.

Emily realised she’d instinctively ushered the others before her, counting heads. She spotted the two younger girls, Mathilde and Hannah, looking small and concerned. As soon as Hannah saw Ian, she rushed over, starting in on a barrage of words before her brother was fully in earshot. Mathilde, who Emily had last seen toddling, was now one of those sturdy middle school children that have no hint of the adult they’d start to look like in five years. She wore her bulky headphones with an unconcerned air, but Emily remembered the tiny wrinkle between the eyebrows that meant she was worrying.

Grabbing her hand, Hannah dragged a reluctant Mathilde up to Emily. “Gosh dammit, I knew something was up. Matty, do you remember Emily?”

The younger girl shrugged and shifted her headphones to expose an ear. “I was a baby, Hannah. And I mean, like, you were too. You just remember her from pictures.”

Janice spotted Emily and motioned her over. Smiling wanly, Emily excused herself from the now-arguing girls and moved to her aunt’s side.

“Go drop your bag off at the trailer. And get your knife.” She saw Emily’s panic. “Hon, just for show and just in case, don’t be squeamish, just do it. Mrs. Hill is going to start soon”.

Emily jogged to their trailer. In her room, she dropped her backpack next to the lumpy bags of things she’d outgrown. The ache of worry growing beneath her ribs settled as she buckled on her knife belt. There was a glimmer of guilt. She still hadn’t cleaned it. Not that it really mattered, it wasn’t as if it was some named blade that had saved her life in a fairy book. Though it had become a sword again when she confronted the court. Emily wondered where it got the magic to do that. On a hunch, she checked the envelope of cash.

Her mouth went dry and she tried to swallow, as she counted the bills a second time. The amount she’d given Michael had been replaced. Checking the tobacco pouch, she couldn’t tell if the level was the same as when she’d arrived or not. With a deep breath, she replaced the envelope of money in her backpack and decided that right now was a very good time not to think about it.

Mrs. Hill was calling everyone to attention as Emily slipped back into the crowd next to her aunt. Brusquely, Mrs. Hill outlined the basics—the Sidhe, fairy-kind, thanks to Amelia for opening the way back. She directed her words at the court’s children, who stood in a tight huddle off to the side of the yard. Emily exchanged glances with a couple of them, but most of the teens were trying in vain to make eye contact with their parents All of the adults were looking to the arbour, their faces masks in the torchlight.

“Amelia has bound us to provide for you children, in return for what she’s done. You’ll find that in each of your homes is a packet of documents; bank information, the paperwork for the trailer, that sort of thing. You’ve each been added to your parent’s bank accounts. Those of us with no children have deposited our money into the Royal Oak Court common fund. As Amelia will be the only one legally of age once we leave, the information for that account has been left for her as well.”

The old woman grimaced. “We forged your signatures and from now on you’ll have to forge ours. We’ve voted. Our half of the bargain is fulfilled. The rest of your lives are yours to make.”

Moving as a group, the adults walked up to the arbour while their children stared after them, open-mouthed.

“Mom?” Hannah started after Mrs. Terrin, but Ian caught her by the arm. The girl’s shoulders fell when her mother didn’t look back.

One by one, the court walked into the arbour and didn’t walk out the other side. Janice and Becky were the last to go. They faced the court’s children. Mathilde was quietly sobbing, her headphones still askew. Becky leaned in to hug her and the girl hit her in the face.

Rocking back, Becky rubbed her cheek. She looked at Emily. “I left you a lot of documents and information. I was the treasurer, you know. Anyway,” her hands fumbled blindly, searching for words. “You guys will be fine. And I have this for you.” She handed Emily a folded slip of paper.

Janice pulled her niece in for a hug, but Emily was stiff against her arms.

“I’m sorry.” Janice was crying, tears smearing through her makeup. “Honey, I did what I could.”

Emily shrugged, feeling empty except for a knot of anger burning in her throat. “Whatever. It’ll work out.”

The two women went through the arbour, leaving the group of kids and teens in silence. Emily opened the paper Becky had given her. In her round, girlish handwriting it said, “I lied. I’ve always known your name.”

Emily read it twice, then held the paper to the flame of the nearest torch. She lit a cigarette with it, feeling something between terrified and badass. She turned to look at the others. The flickering torches picked out shining tracks of tears on more faces than Mathilde, who had wound down to sniffling.

“You shouldn’t smoke.” The girl was mindlessly rubbing her wrist.

Emily exhaled, looking at Mathilde out of the corner of her eye. “And you should keep your wrist straight if you’re going to punch someone.” She touched her lightly on the shoulder.

Ian cleared his throat. “So it’s just us, we’re the court?”

Emily looked up at him and nodded. “And we’ll be fine.”

We’ve got money, she thought. And I’ve got my name.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

You can find all the sections here.

Bored and restless, Emily started cleaning her room while she waited for school to let out. She was surprised at how much detritus a person could accumulate in the short span of a childhood. Most things held little more than hollow twinges of nostalgia for her, which was more surprising.

She’d sorted out a couple bags of toys and clothes in good enough condition to donate and was picking faded posters off the wall when her alarm went off at three. She grabbed a notebook threw it and a pen in her backpack with the envelope of the king’s money and headed to the coffee shop.

Dawn was with the group this time, homework on the table. Emily smiled at the pair she and Tank made. Where he was all hair-in-eyes surfer affecting a punk toughness, Dawn emanated a slicked-back ponytail competency of perfect grades and varsity sports. Emily still felt awkward around the group, but the happy swiftness with which Ian grabbed a chair for her helped somewhat.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

You can find all the sections here.

The trailer park was deserted again, everyone at work or school. Emily kicked through fallen leaves to the arbour, smoking one of her aunt’s cigarettes.

Charred, with the withered remains of flowers clinging to it, the latticed arch looked like an abandoned roadside memorial. Which, Emily mused, it pretty much was. She walked around it, wondering if it was active as a jump point already. Looking around self-consciously, Emily stuck an arm through. It vanished up to the elbow. Swallowing hard, she jerked back. Her hand tingled.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

You can find all the sections here.

Despite her worry, Emily fell asleep easily and woke at her aunt’s clock stereo blaring the static between stations. She tried to make coffee while her aunt was in the shower, but the stained, capable coffee maker had been replaced by something all shiny metal and clean glass. Emily was still staring at it when Janice emerged in a cloud of steam, towelling her hair.

“It’s a French press.”

“Okay.”

“It seemed silly to have something that made so much coffee when it was just me drinking it. Besides, it tastes better.” She flicked the towel at Emily. “Go wash and I’ll make it.”

Laughing, Emily complied.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

You can find all the sections here.

Emily fell onto the couch, grimaced, then removed the knife sheath from the back of her pants. “I didn’t see Becky there.” Emily felt weirdly calm. “What I did wasn’t stupid, was it?”

“No.” Janice hung up her coat and crossed the short space to the kitchen. “Dangerous, maybe, but not stupid. Do you want something to eat?”

“Sure.” Emily’s stomach leapt to life. “I’m starving, actually.” She joined her aunt, opening cupboards full of unfamiliar packaging.

They talked about the kids while they ate. From what Janice could tell, they more or less kept out of mischief. The coffee shop had opened just in time to give them somewhere to hang out.

“With a place to go and each other, they’ve got something to occupy their time and keep them from inventing trouble.” Janice spoke around her sandwich. “Not all kids are as good as you were, hanging around home and making your own fun.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” Emily tried to take the edge off her words. “Of course, you were a good influence, enjoying the results of the sexual revolution as only an ex-Victorian could.”

Janice laughed, full and hard.

Finally unpacking her backpack later that evening, Emily found the envelope of money from the king. She’d forgotten about the film she was supposed to get for the hare. Light snores from the next room told Emily that her aunt was already asleep. She’d have to figure out where to pick up the film in the morning.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

You can find all the sections here.

The meeting was at the Terrin’s house. Emotions warred in Emily, it wasn’t very long ago to her that Becky had sat on the porch and told her about the Sidhe while the children slept inside. Janice opened the door for Emily, who tried to keep her expression firm as she faced the crowded room.

As with Janice and Becky, the years she’d been gone could be seen in the bodies and faces of the court with grey hair, wrinkles and age’s softening and sharpening of features. Emily was glad for her aunt’s protective presence at her back. It was going to be hard to forget a lifetime of deference to adults. Janice leaned against the door frame, but Emily stayed standing, hands loose at her sides.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

You can find all the sections here.

The whole of her body balked at going to the meeting. Emily was still uncertain what she was going to say to these people. Arm around her shoulders, Janice walked Emily to a car she didn’t recognise. It made sense, her aunt’s old car wouldn’t have lasted another five years, let alone ten.

“The hatchback finally gave out. I was using your bike for a while, until I got a deal on this.” Janice proudly slapped the roof of the car. When she unlocked the driver’s side, it triggered all the other doors to unlock with a satisfying clunk. Emily slid inside, gasping a little at the interior.

“This is nice!”

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

You can find all the sections here.

When Emily had them settled down again, she got Abby to let Janice know where she was. Watching the girl text, Emily shook her head in disbelief.

“There were toys like this, but they were just plastic and coloured lights.”

Abby shrugged. “Tech moves fast, it’s nothing if you grew up with it.”

Emily ran them through what had happened. The other four were full of questions and kept interrupting. Emily had to explain that the Folk didn’t perform magic constantly, that it seemed like they were magic, more or less.

“I wasn’t there to observe, really, so yes Michael, it is possible that there are people I didn’t see who do magic all the time like in your books.” Emily gestured searchingly. “The impression I got was that if you’re immortal you eventually get bored with doing things the easy way.”

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

You can find all the sections here.

Like most of the businesses on the three-block main street of the town, the coffee shop was new to Emily. When she’d left it had been a dusty junk shop. Bright paint, high-backed booths and large framed prints from some local artist transformed the space and were the backdrop to the chatter of teens and the whine of an espresso machine.

Julian guided Emily to a booth near the back, where some of the other kids from the court were already seated. He nodded at her reassuringly and went to the counter to order. She tried to guess who each kid was. The girl who slid out so Emily could sit next to the wall had to be Abigail, her red hair was a give away. She was taller than Emily, but she’d always been all legs and arms at seven. Emily sat nervously, unsure what to do with her hands. She’d never been social within her age group and her awkwardness was compounded by facing people she’d known as babies.

One of the boys peered at her through a thick tangle of hair. “It’s you alright, Julian wasn’t being crazy.”

“How did you know already?”

“Ian texted us on your way here, duh.” The other boy rolled his eyes. Emily remembered that Julian—Ian, now—had fiddled with his phone as they walked, Emily trying to look casual while gawking at the town’s changes.

She tilted her head. “Texting. It’s not—it’s new to me, y’know? I’ve been gone awhile.”

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.