Free Fall Semester by Stephanie Fournet Page B

Tuesday, and the Deep South Writers Conference would consume the entire weekend, starting Thursday evening with a reading at Barnes & Noble. One of the guest writers, David Solomon, a novelist, was the featured reader for the evening, and there was a lot of buzz about him reading an excerpt from his next book which wouldn’t come out until October. But following his reading would be an Open Mike session, and Maren had planned to read two of her poems.
    She felt a heady excitement about this. She had really only done one other public reading in Denver last year, and the only people here who had read her work—besides the admissions committee—were Dr. St. Martin, Dr. MacIntosh, and the seven other students in their poetry workshop. So far, their feedback about the few poems she had workshopped had been encouraging, but she was still nervous about laying herself out there for such a big audience. Which is why she knew she had to try it.
    But she still had a paper to write for Dr. Sheridan, which would mean a late night at the library if she wanted to finish it before Thursday. Maren walked back up to the bullpen with Helene to make sure that the coast was clear. Luckily, there was no Jess Dalton sighting, so Helene settled in at her desk to grade papers, and Maren grabbed her book bag and headed for the library.

    Thursday evening, Barnes & Noble was packed. Maren felt an icy rush when she walked beyond the diet and cookbook shelves to the open space where readings were held. Except it wasn’t an open space at all. Folding chairs covered the carpet, and nearly each one was full. And dozens of people stood in the periphery, clustered in conversations.
    Holy crap.
    There must have been 50 or 60 people there—and none waiting to hear her read.
    Avery Cohen rushed towards her, frantic.
    “You’re still reading tonight, right, Maren?” Avery had a near pleading look in her brown eyes as she ran her fingers through her tight brown curls, grabbing handfuls.
    “Yes....? Is that okay, Avery?” Maren’s nerves tripled as Avery’s shoulders sagged with relief.
    “Oh, Thank God! There needs to be at least three Open Mike readers to follow Mr. Solomon, and I had you, Dennis Guidry, and Amy Bell, but Amy got called into work at the last minute. I can find one last minute reader, but that’s my limit.”
    “Who’s going to do it?” Maren asked, growing more apprehensive about following a well-known—and damned funny—novelist as only one of a pair of grad student readers. She would have felt much safer if half a dozen of her peers were stepping up to the mike tonight.
    “Well, I might have do it if I can’t find someone else,” Avery grimaced. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I could read a few poems that no one’s heard yet. They’re on my iPad.”
    Just then, Helene broke through the crowd, chin high, mouth set, eyes blazing, and blond ponytail bouncing. Jess, wearing a shit-eating grin, was on her heels.
    “I’ll see if I can find someone else who’ll read,” Maren offered. Avery looked genuinely relieved.
    “Thanks, Maren, that would be great.” She looked around the room. “Now I’ve got to find Dr. Wilson. He’s introducing David Solomon in five minutes.” Avery stepped away just as Helene, fuming, stood next to Maren, deliberately turning away from Jess.
    “Maren. Hello. How are you?” Helene’s tone was wooden, but an I’ll-tell-you-later look filled her eyes. Maren touched her friend’s elbow in sympathy. What was Jess up to? He stood behind Helene and tucked a stray lock of his dark brown hair behind his ear, smiling in mischief. He was too gorgeous. And just plain evil.
    “To be honest, I’m terrified,” Maren confessed to them both. “Not only am I reading after The David Solomon, but it looks like I’m one of the only ones doing it.”
    Helene’s eyes widened, and she seemed to forget the ire she was busy directing at Jess.
    “Oh dear!” This time, she grabbed Maren’s elbow in