Page 14 of His Small Town Girl


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Sometimes if he hadn’t gotten enough footage while we were stopped in a city, he would record additional interviews with Dad, but those usually resulted in fewer answers from Dad and more arguments between Will and me. Will joked that he was going to make it a recurring segment on the show called “Big Thoughts with STG”, but usually he edited most of it out and only kept a few snippets of us barking at each other. Those couple of seconds of us arguing in the vlogs always made me smile, though. While all the montages of us enjoying the landmarks, showing off our sponsor’s hotels, and meeting the Susans was fun, Will and me arguing over the simplest of ideas captured the essence of this trip the best. It was pure us, two polar opposites refusing to agree on anything.

Will already had two of the vlogs up and I had watched them with Dad. I may have also lurked in the comments section when I was alone. There hadn’t been many comments before, but now that three vlogs were up, they were gaining traction, and a lot of that attention was from girls my age. Girls like me who found a certain aspiring author to be handsome and girls who, like a certain aspiring author, found me annoying. I decided to stay out of the comments section after that. You can only have so many teenage girls insult your intelligence while using incorrect grammar before you wanted to hurl yourself out of a moving car.

Today Will is writing. Curious, I covertly position myself, so I can read his screen. So far, it seemed like he was recounting our last Susan visit, but the text starts to change tone as I read.

Hannah stood in the corner, but she stole the show. I could hardly focus on Susan and David when she stood there glistening in the afternoon sun, as if she had just slipped out of the waters of a swamp.

“A swamp, really?” I laugh, realizing he has caught me snooping and is teasing me.

He deletes the sentence and retypes a new one.

Like a swamp princess, Hannah stood regally, her head slightly tilted, as she listened to the conversation she could not participate in because her drawl was thicker than the peach shake her grandma would make her growing up.

“I do not have a drawl and grandma didn’t make peach shakes.” Immediately wincing when I hear myself. There was a twang to my words.

“You do when you are angry.” Will smiled victoriously, and I just shook my head as my cheeks flamed. Will typed again.

It’s cute.

Thoughts fled my mind as I comprehend what I read and so I say the only words I can find. “Grandma made raspberry shakes.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he corrects the shake type. “Any other corrections?” he asks, a slight smile pulling at the right side of his mouth.

“I prefer backwater princess. It is more PC.” I say, struggling to keep my voice and expression serious.

“Miss Backwater USA.” Will says, giving me a look over.

“She sounds like a good time.” I comment.

“She is. Even if she is a little judgmental.” Will replies, and that stupidly handsome smirk pulls at his mouth again.

“So says the all-knowing city slicker.” I say, with partially mock and partially real outrage.

“Well, like you said, I am all-knowing.” Will answers easily, this time resisting his smirk.

“Hah.” I laugh, unconvinced.

“What have I gotten wrong so far?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“Me.” I answer indignantly, pointing at my chest.

“Nah, I think I got you all figured out STG, though I’m not opposed to learning more.” He says with a wink and again I find myself unable to speak. He only chuckles at my flabbergasted expression and turns back to his work.

The next door we walk up to is open before Will can land the first knock. A vibrantly dressed woman with bright red hair stands in the doorway, smiling at us. She looks like the stereotypical eccentric middle-aged woman, bedecked in large chunky jewelry and wearing a scarf despite the balmy eighty-degree weather.

“That was quick.” Dad comments with an awkward laugh.

“I saw you coming.” The woman says, which makes me raise my brows in suspicion, considering her door is on the inside hall of an apartment complex and has no peephole. “I’m a psychic.” She clarifies, handing Will a tie-dye business card that reads ‘Foresight: Psychic Services’.

“Oh.” My dad says after a pause, since both Will and I are too caught off guard to speak.

“Well, come on in, David. I understand you want to talk to me.” She says, waving us into her equally colorful apartment, which is decorated in bookcases, candles, crystals, and quite a few cats. Susan gestures to the coffee table where three cans of soda sit unopened. “I got some drinks out while I waited for you three to arrive.”

“Do you know why we are here, Susan?” Will asks at last and his voice is equally amused and confused.

“Not exactly. My sight isn’t exactly crystal clear as the future is shifty, but I knew David and his two companions would stop by today.” She says, as if she is telling us what the weather forecast is and not that she believes she can see the future.

Will goes on to explain my dad’s search, the vlog, and the future book. Susan says the book will be highly rated, to which Will smiles widely while smothering a chuckle. We were all pretty sure upon arrival that this is not the Susan Smith we were looking for, but Susan confirms it as well, though she does let us know the Susan we are looking for isn’t trying to be found. Will continues with his questions about this Susan’s life, which is reflective of both her style and personality. Her life story is day time television wild.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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