Leah Konen - Happy Messy Scary Love

This book is dedicated to anyone whos ever nerded out in secretheres to not being afraid to be who we are

JIMMY

You know, they say you miss a hundred percent of the shots you dont take.

ONYX

Would you mind sparing me the basketball metaphors until after weve made it out of here alive?

The Bad Decision Handbook by O. Knight

What are you doing this summer, Olivia?

Theyre the words I dread, scarier than any of the movies I watch at night, any of the Stephen King novels I read, or even that true crime documentary I watched in April.

Were sitting in the gym at Xaverian High School in Brooklynme and Katie, and the other girls from French class, waiting for the final assembly, one little event that stands between us and the gloriesor pitfallsof summer vacation. Our French teacher, Ms. Padma, let us out of class early, and now the five of us are surrounded by a plethora of chairs waiting to be filled. The air in the gym is stale, wood floors dusty, metal chairs screechy, as if the school is ready for us to get out of here more than anyone.

I scratch underneath my collar as Tessa stares, waiting for an answer. My uniform is itchy and the thought of my sad little secret makes it itchier. I already told you, I say, plastering on a smile in lieu of a real answer, and then quicklyoh so quicklylooking away.

If I were in a horror movie, if we were trapped in this school with some crazed killer or monster on the loose, this is where Id suggest to the crew it would be a good idea to split up. Of course, thats a total trope and never a good idea, but then I wouldnt have to answer Tessas questionor look at any of their eager eyes. The ins and outs of everyday high school are way worse than anything waiting for you in a horror flick, that I know for sure.

Tessa cocks her head to the side, her glossy hair cascading across her shoulders. No, you didnt.

I know what each of them is doing, since theyve all been talking about it, ad nauseam, for the last few weeks:

My best friend, Katie, is going to the acting program at the New School that shes been dreaming of for years.

Tessa and her family are doing a house swap, trading their tiny Brooklyn apartment for a pied--terre, whatever the hell that means, one block from the Eiffel Tower.

Fatima is interning at an NGO in Africa.

Eloise is leading meditation workshops at a mindfulness sleepaway camp in Vermont.

And me, well...

Im keeping busy, I say, tugging at a particularly unruly curl and scratching at my chin. Since I found out I didnt get into NYU, Ive mainly kept the questions at bay by saying how things were still up in the air, but its evidently too late for that now.

Busy? Tessa asks with a laugh, and I realize its exactly what my uncle says, the one in Iowa whose schedule revolves around telemarketing work and feeding his four cats. Keeping busy. What you say when you have nothing to keep you busy at all.

Wait, werent you going to that NYU screenwriting program? Eloise asks. Her voice is even-keeled, calming. Of course shes going to be a meditation instructor. Its a perfect fit.

Jealous, Fatima says. I was in the Village last weekend, and the dudes there are just... She brings her fingers to her lips. Mwah!

They laugh, but internally I cringe. I wont be anywhere near Greenwich Village this summer, thats for sure.

Back in January, when the future had seemed all bright and glowy; when I had twenty-seven words written and at the top of my Google Doc, titled The Bad Decision Handbook; when the pulsing of the cursor was encouraging, not chastisingId told everyone who would listen: Im applying to NYUs screenwriting program this summer! I want to write horror movies! I swear, theyre more freeing and feminist and just... awesome... than any other genre. Forget Wes Craven, George A. Romero, and all the dudes whove dominated the genre. Theres a new crew of ladies in town, and Im going to be one of them!

Id had big plans, plans so large and daunting that it somehow became impossible to get past word number twenty-seven. Its not that I didnt want to write. Its more that I didnt want to write anything bad. So I spent a lot of time doing researcher, watching horror movies.

And then suddenly, without even realizing it, it was March, and the deadline was quickly approaching. The fifteen-page sample I needed to submit was no more than a couple of FADE INs and INTERIOR CABIN DAYs and one line of voice-overI didnt believe in monsters until I visited Shadow Lakewhich even I knew was just about the worst way to open anything on earth. Hello, heavy-handedness! On top of that, it felt like my one bad line of dialogue had become an actual monster, reminding me that no way, no how, was I cut out for this.

Even worse, I couldnt help but think about freshman year, my heart thumping wildly as I stood on that stage, stumbling over my lines for my audition for the schools production of Dracula, and of the cast list posted outside the drama room.

It didnt matter that I had a screenplay idea that had been bouncing around in my head for monthsI didnt have a single thing to show for it. When March 15 came along, I did submit my applicationmy parents had written the check and everythingbut I can hardly even remember what I wrote. Run-on sentences, things jotted down way too fast, racing against the clock of a deadline. I pushed it off so much, I didnt even give myself a shot.

The girls are still waiting for an answer, and Katie, blond hair stick-straight and skin clear as anything, shoots me an understanding look with her gray-blue eyes. Shes the only one who knows the truth about what Im doing this summer. And it is, drumroll, please... a big fat pile of nothing in the big fat middle of nowhere!

Ill be up in the Catskill Mountains with my mom and dad, at this little cottage in the middle of the woods, where my parents and I spent six weeks last summer, right after they bought the place. Even though the internet is hardly fast enough to handle my very full queue on Netflix, Amazon Prime, and HBO Now, Im secretly kind of relieved. Its nothing compared to what my friends are doing, but at least Ill be away from the pressure of Brooklyn. Maybe Ill even actually make progress on the screenplay that wouldnt be.

Besides, the internet isnt too slow to get on Reddit. I snap at the elastic band on my wrist, pushing down the anticipation of a new Reddit message Im awaiting from a certain someone, and I look at Eloise. Theyve got a really strict admissions process... I let the words hang in the air.

Then, just in case: I didnt get in. Im going upstate with my parents.

A shuffle as the gym doors open and students pile in, and yet there is an excruciating quiet as my confession hits these girls, my friends.

Katie, as per usual, saves me. She laughs, mouth wide-open, voice bubbly and light. Who needs a stupid program to write? Last I checked youve got a computer like the rest of usand a place to get away from it all. Im pretty sure Greta Gerwig didnt write Lady Bird in an NYU program. No joke, she only turned to acting when a bunch of stupid playwriting programs wouldnt take her. And look how she turned out!

The girls laugh, a chorus of yeahs and youre totally rights. Then the seats fill up, and our principal takes the stage, and Im off the chopping block for the moment. Except I have to admit to myself that if I couldnt even manage fifteen cohesive pages for the application, I probably wont get very far on my own.

Still, Ive got to hand it to Katie. As usual, shes saved the day, evaded the awkwardness, made it all okay... for a little bit at least. Katie, the natural star, the one who always knows the right thing to say and do. Shes the