Page 18
Story: Better Than Revenge
“That’s it for today,” I said. Her exit might’ve been abrupt for me, but I needed to make it a little less so for my audience. “Thanks for listening. If you have any questions you’d like to ask my grandma, feel free to DM me on my linked socials.” I almost felt stupid saying that. My family could text me if they wanted Grandma to answer specific questions. They’d yet to do that.
I stopped the recording, then went back and listened to it from the beginning to make edits. The episode was about ten minutes. Keep them short to match people’s attention spans was my thinking. But that strategy obviously hadn’t helped. No new listeners were adding my podcast to their queues. Nobody was stumbling upon it. Not that I thought my grandma’s story was a gripping tale, but I did think, even by accident, that it might get a few more listens.
My stats hadn’t budged, though. Two whole listeners had heard the last episode.
I sighed as my recorded voice said anotheruh.I needed to curb my use of filler words. And when had I started laughing like that?
There was a knock at my door followed by my mom stepping into my room. “What’s so funny in here?” she asked, obviously having heard my attempts to rerecord the perfect laugh.
“How come nobody told me I laugh like a hyena?”
“What?”
I pointed to my recording equipment.
“I love your laugh. It’s cute.” She kissed the top of my head.
“Real-life cute, not on-air cute.”
“Not sure what that means,” she said. “But Dad made dinner. It’s ready.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
She walked back to the door. “Don’t fake your laugh,” she said, and then was gone.
I listened one more time to the replacement laughs I had recorded. I decided on one, then meticulously blended it into the existing dialogue. “Yes, better,” I said when I listened this time.
I stared at the publish button, ready to release the episode into the world, but I paused. What was the point? I could just email it tomy mom and brother. They were the only ones who cared.
I closed my computer without pushing publish.
Chapter
seven
“A PARTY,” I SAID THEnext day as I intercepted Deja getting out of her white Honda in the school parking lot.
“What?” she asked. “It’s too early to read your mind.”
Lee and Maxwell had parked close as well, and Maxwell called out while heading our way, “You better not be discussing plans without us!”
“We need to find or throw or be at a party where all the football players are,” I said when they reached us.
“Why?” Lee asked.
“Oh!” Maxwell said. “So you can look hot and Jensen can see you and you can make out with another guy?”
“No.” I sighed, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder. “I told you I’m not going to use someone else to punish Jensen.”
“Just be up front with said other person. Say,Can I make out with you because of what Jensen did to me?I guarantee anyone would say yes.”
“Youcannotmake that guarantee.”
“Then why the party?” Lee asked, bringing us back to the point.
“I need to infiltrate the team, somehow turn them against Jensen.”
“Can the team vote him out?” Lee asked.
I stopped the recording, then went back and listened to it from the beginning to make edits. The episode was about ten minutes. Keep them short to match people’s attention spans was my thinking. But that strategy obviously hadn’t helped. No new listeners were adding my podcast to their queues. Nobody was stumbling upon it. Not that I thought my grandma’s story was a gripping tale, but I did think, even by accident, that it might get a few more listens.
My stats hadn’t budged, though. Two whole listeners had heard the last episode.
I sighed as my recorded voice said anotheruh.I needed to curb my use of filler words. And when had I started laughing like that?
There was a knock at my door followed by my mom stepping into my room. “What’s so funny in here?” she asked, obviously having heard my attempts to rerecord the perfect laugh.
“How come nobody told me I laugh like a hyena?”
“What?”
I pointed to my recording equipment.
“I love your laugh. It’s cute.” She kissed the top of my head.
“Real-life cute, not on-air cute.”
“Not sure what that means,” she said. “But Dad made dinner. It’s ready.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
She walked back to the door. “Don’t fake your laugh,” she said, and then was gone.
I listened one more time to the replacement laughs I had recorded. I decided on one, then meticulously blended it into the existing dialogue. “Yes, better,” I said when I listened this time.
I stared at the publish button, ready to release the episode into the world, but I paused. What was the point? I could just email it tomy mom and brother. They were the only ones who cared.
I closed my computer without pushing publish.
Chapter
seven
“A PARTY,” I SAID THEnext day as I intercepted Deja getting out of her white Honda in the school parking lot.
“What?” she asked. “It’s too early to read your mind.”
Lee and Maxwell had parked close as well, and Maxwell called out while heading our way, “You better not be discussing plans without us!”
“We need to find or throw or be at a party where all the football players are,” I said when they reached us.
“Why?” Lee asked.
“Oh!” Maxwell said. “So you can look hot and Jensen can see you and you can make out with another guy?”
“No.” I sighed, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder. “I told you I’m not going to use someone else to punish Jensen.”
“Just be up front with said other person. Say,Can I make out with you because of what Jensen did to me?I guarantee anyone would say yes.”
“Youcannotmake that guarantee.”
“Then why the party?” Lee asked, bringing us back to the point.
“I need to infiltrate the team, somehow turn them against Jensen.”
“Can the team vote him out?” Lee asked.
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