Chapter 4
"What the heck."
Posy stood with her hands on her hips, her bottom lip jutted out and eyes wider than usual in her fury.
"Sorry," I said.
"'Sorry'?" Posy repeated, "'Sorry'? You'll be sorry you were ever born when I'm through with you!"
I crossed my arms and looked at her. She stood there, breathing hard from her anger, her flower crown nowhere in sight and her hair was messy, but other than that she looked fine.
"Okay."
She blinked. "'Okay'?" she said, "'Okay'?"
"Yes, 'okay'," I was getting mildly annoyed. "Stop repeating what I say. We're not Hazel and Augustus."
"What do you mean, 'Okay'?" she asked, completely ignoring what I'd just said.
"I mean, okay!" I said, "Okay, you're angry with me, as you have every right to be. Okay, you can yell at me or whatever. Okay. Go ahead. I'm ready."
For a minute, she didn't seem to know what to do. I waited patiently, wondering if she'd just disappear in a huff. Instead, she took a deep breath and began her rant.
"I had a two parents and a brother and a beautiful bedroom and a house on a farm and new neighbours who had a dog and I was about to meet the love of my life and everything was going perfectly."
I sighed. "I know."
"Oh, do you? Because I thought things were going well. I thought Skye had approved of me and Ava liked me and you and I were getting along splendidly, but then what? What happened then, Ivy?"
"I stopped writing about you," I said, rubbing my eyes.
"You—you stopped—"
Posy could barely speak from all her contained fury.
"What am I to you?" she finally asked, "Am I just some character you made up one time? One amongst hundreds? So easily forgettable out of all your stories? Easily left out because my story is so small? Meant only for the internet? Not part of some four book series like Skye Chase? Am I too plain? Not enough superpowers for you? Am I too pretentious with all this vintage and lace and poetry? Is there too much icing on top of the fires you made me from?"
I sat there in silence, letting her get it all out.
"It's been seven months," she said, and by now her anger had melted away, leaving only hurt.
"I know, I'm sorry," I told her.
"Why did you stop writing me?"
Even with the fire I instilled in her, it wasn't enough to evaporate the tears which gathered in the corners of her eyes.
I shrugged. "No one was reading it."
Apparently it was the wrong thing to say, because Posy exploded then.
"WHAT KIND OF WRITER ARE YOU TO STOP WRITING WHEN NO ONE READS YOUR WORK? YOU DIDN'T EVEN REACH THE INITIAL INCIDENT OF THE STORY AND YOU QUIT BECAUSE NO ONE WAS INTERESTED IN YOUR SUCKY FIRST DRAFT OF A STORY YOU MADE UP SPECIFICALLY FOR THE INTERNET? ARE YOU SERIOUS???"
She took a few seconds to breathe. I decided not to tell her that after the initial pause from writing, I completely forgot about her until I came across the story on Wattpad again. The beginning, I thought, was boring. Nothing interested me about this old story, until Posy appeared. Up until then I had completely forgotten about her, but today I found her again and read everything I had written about her. She was good, I decided. I didn't want to give up on her. She deserved to be a main character.
"That last chapter only had one page!" she was complaining now. "All the other chapters had three pages, even the prologue! I didn't even get to eat the cucumber sandwich!"
"I'm sorry." I said again, "I'll try to write more. I'm pretty busy, but I'll try, okay?"
She looked at me with narrowed eyes, wondering whether she could trust me anymore.
"I wrote about you now, didn't I?"
She nodded slowly. It wasn't like she could take her story to someone else to have written anyway.
"I have to go. I have homework for tomorrow. But I'll come back. I'll continue your story."
"You'd better," she said.
"I will," I promised, "Bye."
"Bye."