Genesis walked into her second day of writing camp, and a flyer on the bulletin board greeted her. As she scanned it, she realized it was details for the Annual Writing Summer Competition.

COME ENTER OUR CONTEST!

Entries must be works of short fiction, 5,000 to 7,000 words long. Our judges this year are looking for three things:

• Authenticity
• Courage
• Faith

Your entry should show us your definition of each of these words. If you are in the top three, a top fiction author from the state will choose your work and tutor you for July and August.

Good luck to all who enter, and may your pen be forever filled with ink.

Genesis snorted. What kind of a catch phrase was that?

“The sign-up sheet is there.”

Genesis yelped and whirled, almost sideswiping Daina and one of her friends. Was this girl determined to make her existence known?

Daina raised an eyebrow. “Are you entering?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Genesis admitted.

She scrambled away, then thought about it. Tutoring from an author would be great, but…what were the chances that that author would be Christian? Still, did it matter if they were only teaching her prose? She bit her lip. God was pulling at her heart and telling her that it did matter.

She got up and walked to the table anyways.

“Hello,” she said to the teacher there.

“Hello,” he smiled kindly. “Genesis, correct? Do you wish to enter?”

“Maybe,” Genesis admitted, glancing quickly at the sheet.

“Scholarship students typically have better chances,” the teacher was quick to inform her.

“Yeah, uh, I would just like to know who the authors are,” Genesis explained.

The teacher handed her a printout, and she looked at it. One person especially caught her eye…

Heather Fairchild. Heather is the author of Beauty Is Comparative, Parish Public School, and Handling Henry. She is known for her wit, relatability, and deep psychological themes.

Genesis gaped. Heather Fairchild was one of her favorite authors! There was no guarantee that Heather would choose hers even if she did place third or above, but if she did…

“I’ll enter,” she said as she skimmed quickly over the agreements on the tutoring.

She signed her name, then walked away, already brainstorming killer fiction works. She at first wondered what would impress Heather, then stopped short. Why was she trying to write like Heaher? If she was going to win anything, she needed to write like Genesis Yates.

Suddenly, her phone rang. Looking at the number, then relieved when she saw the name, she accepted it and held the phone up to her ear.

“Jazzy, hey,” she grinned. “Just found out what that competition is. Decided to enter.”

“Great,” Jazzy said. “Listen, I have a, um, doctor’s appointment today so I…can’t make it. Would you please enter me?”

“Sure,” Genesis nodded. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

“No,” Jazzy chuckled, “just a little fender-bender. Hey, don’t let D-D give you any trouble.”

“Not sure who you’re referring to, but okay,” Genesis raised her eyebrows.

“You know, Dante and Daina!” Jazzy exclaimed. “Just give as good as you get.” There was a pause, then, “Okay, we just pulled up. Good luck today. Bye.”

“Thanks. Bye,” Genesis nodded and hung up.

She turned tail and headed back to the sign-up sheet, but this time she had to go up to one of the female teachers.

“Hi, Jazzy isn’t going to be here today, so she asked me to register her,” Genesis explained.

“Oh, yes,” the teacher nodded, suddenly looking sad, “I’m sorry about that. No, her mom already told us, and she’s registered.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Genesis stammered. “Well, uh, thank you.”

She glided through the rest of the day with ease, but she missed Jazzy for all of it.

Lord, she prayed, please help her with the doctor.

Throughout the morning, her mind was also filled with fantasies of getting tutored by Heather Fairchild. Imagine!

“Did you enter the competition?” someone suddenly asked her in the hallway.

Genesis hadn’t noticed him, but it was Dante leaning against the wall.

“Yeah,” she admitted, nodding. “You?”

“Um, I’m not really competitive yet,” Dante admitted sheepishly. “I kinda just prefer to doodle-write some random stuff. Nothing too serious yet, but everyone tells me it’s good.”

Genesis smiled kindly. “I love doodle-writing,” she offered. “Sometimes I feel like I’ll go mad if I can’t write.”

“Same!” Dante exclaimed. “And why can’t school just be all literature and stuff like that?”

“I know!” Genesis agreed. “And, like, essays and grammar and reading and stuff. I guess what about the poor mathematicians and scientists, but maybe we should just have different schools for different people,” she suggested with a chuckle.

Dante laughed. “Maybe that’s the way you know you’re a writer: when you think you’re gonna got nutso if you can’t do it or when you just love it so much.”

Genesis nodded her agreement. Suddenly looking at her watch, she realized that the crowd in the hallway had thinned and that she needed to move.

“Well, nice talking to you,” she said quickly, “but we’ve gotta go.”

Dante checked his watch and nodded, and they both walked off in the same direction, Genesis quickly outdistancing him. Finally, when she was alone enough, she laughed softly. A school with only words. Now that sounded amazing. Of course, what was algebra but a ton of letters?