Travis looked at the menu, relieved to see hamburgers, wishing he could order a bourbon instead of a Coke. He'd probably end up knocking the damn Coke over...
"And Christopher is a darling. Do you visit them often?"
"Naw, this is the first time." He didn't know how to explain that, so he shut up again. The waiter came and took their order.
"So," he said. "You gonna buy the book?"
Ms. Carmichael looked slightly startled at his directness, and he squirmed a little. There was probably some complicated bunch of rules to business lunches, and he didn't know them. But he'd stick with what he did know, and he wasn't going to sit here and chat about Ken, Chris, and the nice weather we're having.
After a moment she said, "Travis, who do you think would like to read your book?"
"Teenagers. Kids like me." He was sure they would because he'd read it and loved it.
"I agree. We have an extensive young-adult line, books we market directly to young people."
"Yeah, I know." Travis paused while the waiter set his hamburger in front of him. "That's why I sent it to you guys."
"Oh, so you're aware of marketing?"
Travis wasn't sure what that meant, so he didn't say anything. He'd just thought if you had a book about teenagers, you'd try a publisher who did books about teenagers. They sat in silence a minute while she poked at her salad and he put ketchup on his burger.
"Do you hang out in bookstores a lot? Do your friends?"
"Well, I do, but most of my friends don't."
"How do they get introduced to books?"
"I don't know--school, I guess. We have to do book reports. The library. Sometimes if we see a movie and there's a book ... You ever see Rambo?"
"Travis, you mentioned schools. Schools are a very large part of the young-adult market. Teachers and librarians are some of our best salespeople. I think word of mouth will be fantastic on your book, but we'll have to get it to the kids initially."
Travis could barely sit still, he was getting so excited. She was talking about his book, like it really was a book, a book out there, selling!
"Yeah," he said.
"Well, frankly, no teacher or librarian wants to lose his job. And recommending your book, as it is now, could cost someone his job."
It dawned on Travis what she was getting around to: "You want me to clean up the language? Hell, I'll clean up the language. No sweat."
"You don't have a problem with that?"
She was so relieved, Travis realized she didn't know he would have promised anything to get her to publish it. Almost.
"Naw, I can fix it. Everybody's going to know what they're saying, anyway."
"That point aside, we still have a few problems--no major girl characters, for instance, and the majority of book buyers your age are girls."
Travis's eyebrows met over his nose. "I'll clean up the language some, but I ain't going to turn it into a romance. Let the guys read it--there's nothing for guys to read anyway, if you're not into sci-fi."
She might as well get clear on this now. "I don't know what girls do, so I don't write about them. And that junk they like to read makes me barf."
"What do you like to read?"
"Some nonfiction, like biographies. Stephen King. Hemingway. I think I'm going to like Fitzgerald sometime, but not now."
"Not now?"
"Well, I tried to read one of his books once, the one where everybody is hanging out on the beach sippin' sherry, but I didn't get it. I figured if I read it now I wouldn't like it, so I'll give it another try when I get older."
"What makes you think you'll like it at all?"
Travis stopped, trying to define it. "I like the way his sentences feel," he said finally. "Smooth and cool like Laddie pencils."
"Are you a mystery fan?"
"No," Travis said flatly. "I hate it when the only reason to read something is to know what happens next."
"But that is a good reason to read something."
"Yeah. But it shouldn't be the only one."
It was amazing, to be talking about reading. He never talked about reading with anyone. And it was such a major part of his life. Sometime, he thought, someday, he'd get Ms. Carmichael to split a bottle of bourbon with him and they'd sit up all night and talk about books...
She was talking about his book right now, and he focused back on the conversation.
"...more style than you know what to do with. It's so full of energy, so sincere, you'll be able to get away with the melodramatics. But not twice, Travis. The critics won't be indulgent twice. You'll have to use some discipline on the next one."
Critics. Markets. Styles. This was really book talk! He tried to stay intent on her every word, but his mind was racing so fast it was hard to hear.
Grammar. His grammar could really stand some improvement, although stylistically it was right for the dialogue. His spelling was, well, imaginative. But the narrative flowed, there was a strong sense of place, and his characters--well, his characters were wonderfully realized human beings, everyone would come away from this book convinced that these people really existed. He'd have to cut some description, he really didn't have to describe everyone again in each chapter--
"Are any of these characters based on real people?"
"No," Travis said slowly. "Not exactly ... but like, they're real to me. You know Dusty?"
"The one that gets killed in the car crash."
"Yeah. Well, he's made up, totally, but sometimes I think about him, sometimes he even shows up in my dreams, like a real person. It's weird. I just forget he's not real."
"Shouldn't there be at least one sympathetic adult, though? Surely you know some sympathetic adults..." She paused. "Or any adults, for that matter."
"Yeah." He shrugged. "But this is about kids. What have adults got to do with it?"
Finally, the waiter brought the check. Travis felt a little funny about letting her buy lunch, but Ken, who knew about business lunches, said she should. To cover his awkwardness he spoke up. "So. You can fix up the spelling, huh?"
She smiled up at him and slipped her credit card back into her billfold. "You know, when we first met, I couldn't believe you had written that book. Your speaking style is so different from the way you write."
"I got two languages." He realized he meant "vocabularies." "One in my head and one in my mouth."
"Interesting. Save it for interviews. Think you'll be able to do interviews?"
"Oh, yeah. I'll figure it out."
"You should photograph beautifully--"
"Ms. Carmichael?"
"Yes."
"Will my mom have to sign the contract, since I'm not eighteen?"
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
"No. No problem."
They paused in the airport hallway to shake hands again; she was going to her next flight, he was going to meet Ken at the baggage claim.
"Are you working on anything now?"
Travis shook his head.
"Start something new, right now, get it going before this one comes out. First-novel block is a very real phenomenon. You know," she said carefully, "this is going to change your life."
Travis shrugged. "It was changing anyway."
Chapter 9
Casey was getting ready for the last big show of the season. She was out on the Star Runner when Travis caught the bus in the morning for school, and usually rode him again following the afternoon lessons. Travis worried about her, at school. If something happened, out there alone during the day, it'd be hours before anyone found her.
Once, on the weekend, when Ken had drifted down to watch, they nearly witnessed a major crash when the Star Runner threw a bucking fit in the corner and Casey put him over a four-foot fence anyway; she'd lost both her stirrups and nearly went over his head as he landed.
"I don't see why she does damn stupid stuff like that," he'd said. Ken answered, "It's her life, isn't it?" Travis wanted to slug him. But when Casey rode up laughing, they laughed too
.
If only the Star Runner were just, just, well, normal. A normal horse. Jennifer's horse, Sandman, was high-strung, apt to spook at things and occasionally run out at a jump; Travis learned to watch it when he haltered him because he would bite.
But that was normal. Travis had always liked animals, had no trouble liking most of the horses. He'd been embarrassed once while brushing a pony, to realize he was listening for a purr. The signals the horses used weren't as blatant as cats' or dogs', but they were there.
The Star Runner ... Travis and Jennifer were watching him trot up and down in the paddock, and Jennifer shivered.
"He's so creepy," she said. "You ever noticed his eyes? There's white showing all the way around. That's supposed to mean he's crazy."