Work of Fiction

“So, I’ve been thinking…”
Those were the words I hated to hear most. Well, not hated, exactly, but those words held only one meaning for me: Alex, my main character, had a new idea.
“What is it this time, Alex?” I asked him as I typed “Chapter 17” onto Microsoft Word. “A mystical portal that transports you to South Africa so you can save Jane?”
Jane was his love interest in the story, but in real life, they hated each other.
Alex made a face. “Gross. Why would I save her if I had a choice?”
“That’s mean.”
“You’re the one who made me this way.”
I groaned and rested my head on my desk. “Alex, just get on with it, please.”
He grumbled something that sounded like, “You’re so pushy,” and then cleared his throat. “Alright, my most powerful creator, listen to this.” He walked over and lifted my head up from the desk, his pale green eyes drilling into me. “I think I should have an evil twin.”
I laughed at him. “Oh, Lord, you’ve lost your mind.”
“I have not,” he argued.
“Have so,” I said. “I can barely handle you. The last thing I need is an Alex-clone running around.”
“It won’t be like having two me’s,” he said. “It’s going to be an evil twin, remember?”
“I’ll write the idea down. Maybe you’ll get one in book five.” I scribbled “Evil twin for Alex” down on my handy-dandy-notepad.
“Book five?” He sounded annoyed. “You’re only on book one!”
“Maybe if someone would stop interrupting me, I’d be farther along.”
“Right, Char.” His nickname for me sounded like “shard” without the “d.” “You procrastinate worse than a sloth.” Alex tugged on a piece of my hair and grinned.
I rolled my eyes and smiled back at him. “You are the most obnoxious character I’ve ever created.”
“But I’m your favorite, right?”
I turned back to the computer screen. “I don’t have favorites, Alex. It goes strictly against the Author Code.”
“What Author Code?”
“The Code, Alex. Extremely confidential stuff.”
“That’s just your mysterious way of saying, ‘Alex, you’re my favorite,’ right?”
I took a sip of my coffee and leaned back in my chair, stretching my fingers. Carpel Tunnel, here I come.
Alex crossed his arms and sighed. “Great. Now I get the silent treatment?”
I nodded and smirked at him.
“I think I’m going to leave now. I feel hated.”
I shook my head. “Fine, Mr. Melodramatic.”
“Again, you’re the one who made me the way I am.”
“I refuse to take responsibility for that.”
“Aren’t you a little proud of me? I mean, in chapter sixteen, I was the one who delivered the total smack down just outside of New York.” Alex kneeled down next to me and spun the chair around so I faced him.
“I am proud of you, Alex.” I patted his head. “You’re a good little character.”
“You mean it?”
“Yes.”
He smiled. “You better. I have to head back into la computadora now, but I’ll be back.”
“Of course you will.” I sighed and laughed at his Spanglish.
“Catch ya later, creator.” He chuckled, clearly cracked up at himself and his little rhyme.
A moment later, my mom called my name from the other side of my closed bedroom door.
“Charlotte, who are you talking to?”
Alex and I exchanged a look.
“Katy called,” I said lamely. I didn’t even know a Katy.
“Make her a character,” Alex whispered before he disappeared.
Sure, I thought, because another imaginary friend was just what I needed. Well, I wouldn’t call Alex imaginary. He was too real both in and outside of my head to ever be just another work of fiction.





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