The Truths Behind the Life of Maeve Sun Lively

6

MAX TEXTED AND CALLED ME at least a thousand times. And I actually feel kind of bad for not answering.

Where the hell have u been? Did u forget to charge ur phone or something??? He texts me now after I texted him back that I'm alive.

I've now opened my laptop to continue that article I started just yesterday for Mr. Reed. Or was it the day before that? So much has happened in the last probably forty-eight hours, am I even still Izzy Adams? Or am I supposed to be Izzy Sun Lively now?

I stare at the photo I had taken of Rosalie that's been uploaded from my camera to my laptop. When I took that, I never thought in a million years I'd see Rosalie, face to face. And nor did I predict that my parents would tell me Maeve Sun Lively has been my birth mother ever since. And what? They've been sending pictures of me, videos of me, my grades even? To her this whole time. She knew me. At least partly. And now she has left her life story for me to write. Not ghostwrite, but like write write. Like my name will be on the cover and it will definitely boost start my career.

Don't get me wrong, I do feel grateful. But it's just that...I didn't exactly want this. What I wanted was that beautiful reunion with my biological parents, where they'll hug me into their arms and tell me they love me more than anything else. I don't even know who the hell my father is. Cameron Li? Or some other random guy Maeve possibly had an affair with? I wanted a happy reunion. Except I don't think this world, or reality, really care about what anyone wants. You get what you get, and you got to deal with it and make the best out of things. Well really, fuck that.

I shut the article I'm writing down. If I'm going to write Maeve's story, it'll earn me the money I probably never thought I'd see in this lifetime. And if I'm going to write it, I'm going to write it good.

I pull out a clean doc and I start summarizing Maeve's life into it. Well, from what I already know of it, which is most definitely everything. But I'm not even that far into it when my phone rings with more text messages. Right, I forgot about Max.

Max: Hellooooo? Where did u go???

Me: Max, I'm going to need a favor.

Max: Izzy Adams is finally asking for a favor? Uh-hum uh-hum *just clearing my throat* how many times exactly have I asked u if you needed a favor? About time!

I laugh but he's right. I actually haven't ever asked him for a favor, and never did I accept the times he offered them.

Me: So have u talked to Mr. Reed for me?

Max: Yeah, and sorry kiddo, he's not going for that online turn in for the article or payment.

I sigh, and text back: Well that's fine I guess. But I have a feeling my landlord might kick out my things from my apartment. If u don't mind, do u think you can take my stuff and keep it at ur place for a while?

Max: Sure thing. But Izzy, what do u mean fine? U need that article, and if u don't give it soon, Mr. Reed could fire u.

He's definitely right. But what am I supposed to do? I'm definitely not going to ask Max to help me pay for a whole one month rent for that apartment I don't even know when I'll be going back to.

To take a little risk, and in doing so, you might just get better off what you already have.

The line pops up in my head. Back in middle school, there would be these mysterious notes/letters left in our mailbox, and it would be to me. At first it was "To: Isabella Adams" but then after a while, it started to say "To: Izzy Adams". And every time, none of the notes would say who it was from. My parents didn't seem concerned about the mysterious notes though, they said it seemed sweet and could've been from a secret admirer. But I don't think it was. The notes happened all the way to high school until I graduated and went off to college. I think those notes and letters might have also been my confident booster. I was let down after they stopped coming.