The controlled silence of a college library contained the excitement as Evan Taylor eagerly searched for books to check out. His eyes scanned from left to right through each shelf, finding the yellow cover just beyond his reach. The tattered and dirty gray sneakers stepped onto the edge of the first shelf, giving him a boost to his barely average height. His fingers grazed the spine of the book, knocking it from its place on the shelf. With another gust of momentum, Evan pushed himself up and grabbed the bottom of the cover, removing it from the shelf. Thumbing through the first few pages, Evan decided having a book about not writing an effective mystery novel would be a key component to his literary arsenal. Before bringing it back to his table, he scanned the shelves once more. As he reached the fourth shelf, he could hear a book sliding from its place. Evan looked up and found a similar paperback tumbling towards him. His instinct told him to move, but his feet did not respond quickly enough. The top of the book collided with his forehead, knocking his glasses off his face.

“Ah damn it.” Evan knelt down, using his hands to search for his thick black rimmed glasses. Once he located them, he grabbed the book and returned to the table where he stacked five other books on how to write. The topmost book was thinner, and was designed to give potential authors the inspiration and dedication to write like a pro. Feeling that it would be the quickest read, Evan sat down and dove right into the first chapter.

Students slowly trickled down to the first floor, passing Evan’s desk. Their animated discussion peaked his interest, forcing him to listen in on them.

“This was so cool,” one boy said. “I can’t believe he’s actually here and he signed my book too.”

“Dude, that’s nothing. I got a signed book and my picture with him.”

Curiosity was ringing through Evan as he inched closer to the guys talking about some author’s book signing. The way they were talking, it sounded like it happened on campus.

“Man, I’m glad we got here when we did. We would’ve missed out on all the fun.”

“See, aren’t you glad I talked you into cutting class?”

Evan was now completely convinced the book signing happened on campus. He just didn’t know who it was and if they were still there. He stepped out from shelves and tapped one of the boys on the shoulder.

“Hey, who are you talking about?” They looked at Evan as if he had five heads. “Come on; I heard you talking about a signing. Who was it?”

They looked at each other and shrugged. “P. J. Anderson, you know, the guy who co-wrote that government conspiracy series.”

The color in Evan’s face dropped. P.J. Anderson was one of his favorite authors. He co-wrote the Project Justice, a government conspiracy series that depicted vigilantes in their twenties traveling the country killing in the name of justice at the government’s command.

“What-what was he doing here?”

“I don’t know. There’s a rumor he used to go to college here and wanted to visit some old professors.”

“I can’t believe I missed him. When did he leave?”

The boys laughed at him. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch buddy. I think he’s still around here somewhere.”

“Yeah, there was still a few people on line waiting to meet him.”

Hope filled Evan’s eyes. “Where? Where was the signing?”

“Relax dude; he should still be upstairs signing books.”

Evan raced back to the table and grabbed the books he wanted to check out. A set of stairs sat in the middle of the library, permitting the access to the second floor. Evan flew up the stairs, taking two steps at a time until his eyes latched onto the small line of students. He couldn’t believe his luck. Here he was trying to find books about becoming a writer, when one of his favorites was upstairs signing books and taking pictures with students. Evan hurried to the line and took his spot on the end.

Evan placed the library books on the floor and dug through his backpack, searching for his copy of Project Justice. He pushed papers, folders and notebooks aside until he came across the book with a phoenix plastered across a grass background. Evan breathed a sigh of relief as he closed his bag and picked up the library books. The line seemed to move quicker than he thought. Soon, Evan reached the front of the line. He was also the last one waiting to get a book signed. His idol sat before him wearing an orange polo and blue jeans. When he was done taking pictures with the female student that practically drooled on him as he hugged, Evan walked up to the table.

Evan nervously placed the book in front of the author. P.J. smiled at him. The pages were worn, unlike many of the other students that brought him books with the pages still stuck together. “How many times have you read it,” P.J. asked.

Evan was speechless. He didn’t know what to tell him. “I-um read it about five or six times.”

P.J. laughed and reached into his bag. He pulled out a brand new copy of the book and placed it on top of Evan’s. “How do you want me to sign it?”

The pent up excitement deflated like an untied blown up balloon that was released. “I-I can’t afford to buy another one.”

“Tell me; what characters did you like the most?”

Most people who read the story always pulled for Andrew Lancaster and Lilly Henderson. They enjoyed the chemistry of the characters and hoped they would have a happy ending, but not Evan. “The Benefactor,” he replied.

P.J. picked up his head and stared at Evan. “Why do you like him? He’s the villain?”

“Because without him there wouldn’t be a Project Justice. He put the group together, and he made sure the group got through their missions safely.”

“But at the end of the book…”

“I know, but despite his flaws as a person, he had the best interest of the country at heart. He was doing what he thought was best to protect the country.”

Evan saw the look on P.J.’s face. It was the look one gets when they were given a new perspective. “I like it.” P.J. replied. It makes the villain appear more as an anti-hero.” He took a marker and signed the pristine white cover. “It’s on me kid.”

“Are you sure?” P.J. nodded yes. “Thanks.” He stared at the two books as they lay on top of each other. “I’m Evan by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Evan.” P.J. looked around and noticed there were no more students in line to request his autograph. He cleared off the desk he sat at and grabbed his bag. “You know; I could use some coffee right about now. What do you say about hitting up the Starbucks down the block? Maybe you can tell me more about what you think of my characters.”

Evan smiled and walked with P.J. as they exited campus. It was a brisk spring day, perfect for being outside. As they approached the science buildings, Evan decided it was time to push his luck and pick P.J.’s brain.

“So, what made you decide to become an author?”

“I started writing because I had a story idea that just wouldn’t go away. I kept thinking it would be a cool movie idea and that if I wrote the book first, it would be the path to getting a movie deal.” He paused and stared at the Lecture Hall before continuing. “When I left here, it took a few years for me to get started. I thought everything I wrote was the best thing out there and I would be a millionaire in a few years. Then I submitted the work to literary agents, and found out the hard way that I wasn’t nearly as good as I thought.”

“Yeah, but you landed one that got you a book deal; right?”

“No, not at first. It took me a long time before I found someone willing to give me the time of day. I chose to go the self-publishing route for a little while and get a few books out there, like Project Justice.”

“So how did you get your name out there? And how did you get an agent? And how much did you make while self-publishing?”

P.J. stopped at the edge of the crosswalk and glanced at Evan. “Are you asking because you’re curious, or are you asking because this is something you want to do with your life?”

Evan shyly smiled. “I want to be an author.”

P.J. clapped him on the back. “Then there’s a lot you should know about the industry before jumping in with both feet. Come on; I’ll tell you what I can over coffee.”

Evan and P.J. entered Starbucks, ordered their drinks and began discussing life as an author. P.J. tried to tell him what to expect; what to look for in literary agents; how he preps himself before writing a book with research and outlines; even a few websites and books to check out. They spent two hours discussing the best route for Evan to take if he was serious about becoming an author. When they were done, Evan said goodbye to P.J. and returned to campus in search of his girlfriend.

The dorms were quiet that day. Most of the students were either in class or tucked away in their rooms or lounges studying for their exams. Evan used the phone in the lobby to call his girlfriend, Molly’s room.

“Hey babe, I’m here. Can you come down and let me in?”

“Ugh, can’t you just find someone to let you in?”

“There’s no one around. And the last time I did that, the R.A. busted me and told me you needed to escort me inside the building.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, I’ll be down there in a few minutes.” Molly pulled the phone away from her face, but a few words still found their mark on the receiver as she hung it up. “Lousy, good for nothing asshole.”

Evan heard her. The words stung as if someone slapped him in his chest. He hung up the phone, trying his best to repress his anger. He waited five minutes before seeing Molly’s long dark brown hair, and resentful eyes as she stepped off the elevator. Her arms swung violently back and forth as she approached the front door. Her hands slammed against the push bar, allowing Evan access to the dorm.

“Well, don’t just stand there looking like an idiot.” She pushed the door again, the force of which drove it into the wall. The anger he felt minutes ago was overridden with a bit of fear.

They entered the elevator and took it to the third floor before walking the lengthy corridor to Molly’s room. Once they were inside, a smile swept across Evan’s face.

“So I have a bit of good news for us.”

Molly, always the skeptic, cast a side glance at him. “What kind of good news?” She raised an eyebrow and faked excitement. “Did you finally get that promotion at the video store?”

Evan missed the sarcasm of her question. “No; better.” He rubbed his hands together excitedly and placed them on Molly’s shoulders, directing her to the bed. “So I was in the library taking out books on writing.” Molly rolled her eyes instantly. “And I ran into P.J. Anderson.” Molly shook her head from side to side while turning the palms of her hands up. “Come on; you know him. He’s one of my favorite authors.”

“Evan, I don’t have time for this right now. Is there a point to your little story?”

“Yes there’s a point. I met with P.J. and had coffee together. We talked for the last couple of hours about becoming a writer and what I need to do to become an author.”

Molly shot up from the bed and stared deep into Evan’s eyes. “What do you mean you were talking for the last couple of hours? What about class?”

“Well…I…uh…kind of missed it.”

“So let me get this straight. You ditched class so you can talk to some hack author about throwing your life away to follow in his footsteps?”

“He’s not a hack. He’s written several books, has an agent, and does pretty well for himself. P.J. told me what to expect.”

“Oh, so he told you that you’re going to fail miserably at being a writer and leech off of your girlfriend for the rest of your life?”

“What the hell is with you? Why are you so against me being an author? What’s so wrong with it?”

Molly shoved a stiff pointed finger at Evan’s chest. “Because you are throwing away your potential on a kid’s dream. You think you’re going to be rich and famous from doing it, but all you’re going to do is flunking out of college and doing nothing with your life.” She turned to her side and returned with a loud slap across his face. “Wake the fuck up. It’s a dream and nothing more. You need to get your head out of the clouds, finish your degree and get a great paying job so I can stay home and raise our future children.”

In Evan’s mind, it was bad enough Molly didn’t support his dream, but physical aggression was a new low for her. He rubbed the side of his face, which now had a large red mark on it.

“You know what; I’m done.”

“Done? Done with what?”

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