Chasing Zero

Thirty-Three

Receiving the call from Dakota caused reality to feel distorted. It was as if I could pinch myself while in a dream and still feel it, despite being asleep. But I wasn't asleep. My ringtone would have woken me up.

"You changed the book a lot," Dakota commented. "Like, a lot a lot."

"Is it bad?"

"No, no, just the opposite! I love it. But why did you change it when you already had such a beautiful story to begin with?"

"I hurt someone with what I wrote, and I knew that if this book was going to be based on us, I needed to make it more about the journey of self-discovery and not the romance I was led to believe would lead me to Zero."

"Ah, like in the book?" she sang, and I could just hear her smirk on the other line.

"No, like in real life. It's how I've always viewed the world," I responded. I explained the world of numbers I lived in and how I used it to write out my essay for Northwestern. She loved it.

"That should be the name of the book! Chasing Zero. Everyone has their own Zero, and people should learn to search for it instead of their positive numbers. The message is so beautiful. I knew what you were telling me in class that day, but I never understood it until I read your book. People need to know it's okay to not want to be in a romantic relationship, because not enough people know that. Especially the fact that it's okay to feel sexual feelings for people and still be aromantic. This book could teach people," she rambled.

"Yeah, alright," I snickered.

"Which is a good thing too, because my boss loves it and wants to get the next revised draft."

The phone almost slipped from my hands. If I weren't already sitting, I certainly would have collapsed, possibly falling and hitting my head and dying and never being able to see the lives I touched. Dramatic like usual.

"She does?" I whispered. It was a miracle I could say anything at all.

"The team wants to meet you, go over a few things for the book before its published. They are quite excited to have you join them at Northwestern in the fall," she responded. That time I couldn't say anything. "Well, I have eighty essays to grade, so I will see you in class tomorrow. Be sure to hand in your assignment to me, okay?"

"Okay," I replied and hung up.

I let out a loud, joyful scream that sent my mom running into my room. "What's wrong? Why are you screaming bloody murder?"

"I got into Northwestern."

"Honey, that's great!"

"And Dakota loved the book, and so did her boss."

"Wait," she gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

I squealed, jumping up and down as my mom joined in. I was going to be published. My dream came true. All the hard work I placed into my writing finally paid off.

And the book did surprisingly well on the young adult charts, peaking at number four and remaining in the top one hundred for thirty-two straight weeks. People loved it, and my fans were waiting for more from me. I wound up writing a book about how jealousy could consume a person into insanity and a book about a person who was able to heal people just by touching them and learned to use their powers for good rather than greed. Plus, a lot of my other work was published as well. I had four volumes of classic Spencer Reynolds short stories and poems.

Five years down the line, and I was a famous author. People may have known my name, but they didn't know my face. People would claim I had the same name as the author, but a lot of people couldn't connect the dots. It wasn't as though I was complaining. I merely wanted to touch lives, and no one needed to know my face to do that.