Being friends with a narcissist for over ten years has made me realize that language barriers exist within languages too. Not that I could tell Charlie that--she wouldn't understand what a language barrier is.

Let me lay it out for you. I think 70% of conversations occur in my mind and the other 30% in real time. I project what other people are thinking without saying, to the point where I have visceral reactions to situations that haven't actually happened. I'll highlight it for you using the following scenario.

Charlie: age 27, blonde, about 5' 10", athletic build, dim-witted, kind, remarkably in awe of ordinary things

Me: age 26, brunette, 5' 0", cynical about everything

Place: Coffee shop - this is where I imagine adult interactions outside of college take place.

For the sake of the scenario you may imagine the two women on adjacent treadmills at the gym, or at a bar, or at a bookstore, etc. I'm going with a coffee shop. Charlie got an oreo frappuccino with whip (calories don't stick to her) and I got a skinny latte no whip. These details are trivial.

"...or are they, loba?" Sorry, Alejandro loves to pop in. You can decide whether the details are trivial or not.

Time: Tuesday 6:00 p.m.

"Jen, you know I never want that sonofabitch back, but..." Charlie said, as she took a perfunctory sip of her oreo frap. Her downturned lips revealed her displeasure, and mid-sentence she stood up and marched back up to the counter with her disappointing frap in hand. I watched as she berated the poor barista, and thought,

"But you do want that sonofabitch back." Once she was satisfied with the espresso to whip to oreo ratio in her frappuccino, she returned to the table with her glorified milkshake and a complimentary chocolate croissant, her expression smug. She took a long draw of her perfect beverage, sighed contentedly, dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin, and placed her hands on her lap.

"So, as I was saying, I’m glad the sonofabitch is gone, but living alone is an absolute nightmare! The house creeks at night, and I've been sleeping with a super sharp pencil under my pillow just in case..." She planted her hands on the table on either side of her drink, and began to look around wildly, her eyes dashing from one corner of the room to the other.

"In case what?" I stifled a laugh at her manic expression, and took a measured sip of my latte to hide my smirk. She drew her hands up on either side of her face to make sure that no one could read her lips.

"In case someone tries to break in and murder-rape me!"

"Oh I see...what the hell is a pencil going to do? No one will murder you in freaking Ann Arbor! A kitchen knife would be a better solution. No doubt, you’re afraid of rolling over in your sleep the wrong way, and getting stabbed in the neck or something. Ha." I nodded my head. Recognizing where this conversation was headed, I wracked my brain for a way to disrupt her from the ultimate proposition. Nothing came.

"Yeah, so I was thinking since you're living alone...in your shitty little apartment that smells like polygamy and cat piss." The chocolate croissant, which Charlie had nestled at the edge of the table with no intention of eating, appeared at my fingertips. Charlie caught my eye as she finished nudging the delicious treat my way, and tilted her head toward me with a smile. Blueberry scones were her baked good of choice; I should have known.

Absentmindedly, I broke off a small piece of the croissant, and let the chocolate dissolve on my tongue before giving her the cue to continue.

"Mmhmm...Please don't ask me. I can't say no." I took another bite of the croissant, and another, as Charlie propped her elbows on the table and laced her fingers together. The proposal was coming.

"And I'm sure you're pretty lonely too. You've never had an adult relationship in the time I've known you, your cat died from boredom and neglect (you probably didn't feed him for weeks while you were off on a series of romantic trysts), and your mother never visits since she moved to New Mexico with some devilish but not handsome Latino man."

"I get it! Sometimes I guess, I was thinking of getting another cat." I glanced down at the empty plate, and licked my thumb to sop up the rest of the remaining chocolate. Attractive, I know. Anything to avoid eye contact with Charlie, plus it’s chocolate!

"I don't know if that's a good idea. You remember what happened to Toby. That would be nice. Get another cat and move in with me!" There it was, hanging out there like a dead raccoon on the barn door. Suddenly, my throat constricted, and I couldn’t get enough air. I breathed in shallow, unsatisfying breaths –four in and four out like they teach you therapy, but not long enough to slow my heart rate and not deep enough from my diaphragm to make me feel grounded –for a moment before responding.

"You've been alone for two months, suck it up! I've been alone my whole life. Let me think about it." Sensing my hesitancy, she leaned across the table to hold my hands, and looked up at me, eyes glinting.

"Please Jen, you know I'm the only one in the universe who can put up with you. Also, if you get a haircut or a boyfriend before me, I will throw a fit until you apologize and give you the silent treatment for weeks." I wrestled free from her hands, and crossed my arms across my chest. Not to refuse, but to comfort myself.

"Man, we are in our mid 20’s! Can’t we be done with the petty bullshit? Alright, fine."

"You mean it?" Her smile widened, and she feigned clapping. There was no turning back. I tightened my lips into a straight line, and shrugged my shoulders, deciding that it was easier to yield than argue.

"Sure. No, this is a terrible idea.” Charlie ignored my reluctance, pulled out her iPhone, and started generating plans. Her first decision as Zeus to my Hades was to hire movers for me "as a thank you." You may think, “Jen you’re such a pessimist, that’s quite a friendly gesture!” In reality though, this courtesy was the first of many ways she’d exercise control over me in the coming months.

...

I'm not going to lie. That conversation, at least the part not in italics, went on two months ago. I spent the next month enjoying what was left of my lease, and dreading moving day. Every weekend, I laid in bed, memorizing the lilac and fuchsia colored paisley wallpaper on the accent wall in my room, periodically trembling at the thought of scraping it off and repainting with bland Chantilly lace. The last weekend before the move, I took a picture of the pattern, created a background for my phone, and spent an afternoon removing the print. As I watched the putty knife peel back the layers of my life, I felt a cavity start to form in my chest. The wallpaper did not come off easily, and tore into thin, jagged strips as I worked. When I realized there was no salvaging it, I was indifferent; I surrendered. At least I’d have the memory of freedom.

Title: Wicked Wolverines

Genre: Romantic Fiction

Age Range: Adults, target ages 20-39

Word Count: ≈100,000 words

Author Name: Jessica Highfield

Why my project is a good fit: My project offers an innovative take on the structure and character development of traditional romantic narratives. Additionally this novel centers on issues that broadly appeal to women including love, anxiety, depression, self-acceptance, and self-actualization.

The Hook: Jen is a cynical, reclusive, intelligent substance abuse counselor in her mid-20s who has crippling anxiety particularly about conflict and relationships. Charming Charlie is her best friend, an effortlessly beautiful, blonde, Zumba instructor who has always gotten everything that she wants. That is, until her longterm boyfriend leaves her without any real marketable skills and a house she can't afford. Charlie asks Jen to move in with her, and although Jen realizes that they are completely incompatible roommates, she agrees to avoid an uncomfortable argument. Shortly after moving in with one another, these incompatibilities become glaringly obvious, and Jen turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms to survive (which includes somewhat unintentionally casting a legit spell on Charlie!). Through a series of real and imaginary events, Jen and Charlie simultaneously fall in love with the same man, Jack Barker, a devilishly handsome UM grad and dance instructor. Jen must learn to accept herself and face conflict in order to become the main character in her own life.

Synopsis: Jennifer Kelly and Charming Charlie became unlikely best friends in high school when the effortlessly popular and talented Charlie decided to make the socially inept Jen her pet project. As adults both attend University of Michigan where Charlie pursues her goal of becoming a trophy wife, while Jen becomes a successful substance abuse counselor. When Charlie gives her longterm boyfriend, the Chemical Engineer, the marriage ultimatum, he flees. Charlie realizes that she is not able to afford the lifestyle she's accustomed to, and asks Jen to move in with her. Crippled by anxiety over the conflict that would inevitably ensue if she refused, Jen agrees. Charlie is a woman who gets what she wants.

Jen and Charlie's lifestyles and ideas on morality are incompatible, particularly when it comes to love. Very shortly after moving in together, Charlie comes home early from an evening out to find Jen shamelessly having sex with a Starbuck's barista she'd met that evening. They argue about Jen's depravity and lack of self-respect, and Charlie insists that Jen sanitize the kitchen the following day. Jen, who has made a habit of creating imaginary characters to help her cope with her anxiety and her ineptitude with real life relationships, calls on her character Katerina (a Scottish witch) to cast a spell on Charlie. This exercise proves to be cathartic, and Jen goes on with life not thinking too much about it. However, as the events that follow unfold, Jen realizes that her "imaginary" spell may not be so imaginary after all, and it may have backfired!

The lonely Charlie decides to start online dating, and goes out with a bunch of duds before meeting Jack Barker at her dance studio. She was teaching a Zumba class, and one shake of her tush was all it took to entice this devilishly handsome, womanizing, alcoholic in denial. When Charlie brings Barker home for the first time, Jen recognizes him immediately as an obstinate client she saw in her office recently who refused to admit that he had been referred to her legitimately by law enforcement. He is charming, crass, self-absorbed --everything that Jen loves about male love interests in books/movies, but is dangerous and toxic in real life. Despite Barker's insistence that he and Charlie maintain an open relationship, Charlie develops a plan to trap him, which involves Jen playing her wing-woman. Unfortunately, getting closer to Jack, only causes Jen to fall deeply in love with him. At Shakespeare in the Park, after Charlie storms off in a huff, Jack confesses his feelings for Jen who is at once delighted and terrified by how her body comes alive when they kiss. Although Charlie is self-absorbed, and an awful friend in Jen's eyes, Jen's guilt and the characters that she creates to manifest her anxiety, convince her to turn Jack down.

Shortly thereafter, Jen leaves on a trip to Florida for a conference where she meets Tom. She is distrusting at first, but once they save a pilot whale from breeching together, she is hooked! Tom happens to also be from Ann Arbor, and Jen returns from the trip really feeling the feels for this guy. He seems perfect! She even agrees to go on a double date with Charlie and Barker. At the date, Barker displays some possessive behavior, which raises red flags for Charlie. Charlie decides to enact the final step in her plan to trap Barker which includes giving him the "boyfriend" ultimatum at the upcoming benefit at her dance studio. Jen goes along with the plan despite having some lingering feelings for Barker. To Charlie's disappointment, Jack refuses her proposition, and it becomes clear that he has true feelings for Jen and had been using Charlie all along to get a job at her dance studio. Jen realizes that her spell to ruin Charlie's life has come to fruition, and she is regretful, but not so regretful that she doesn't dump Tom (who was dating another girl as it turns out), and pursue Jack. Jen's relationship with Jack is fraught with problems, but by accepting herself, Jen chooses to end one toxic relationship and enter another that brings her joy despite the struggles.

Target Audience: Women, ages 20-39

Author Bio: I am a 30 year old woman from southeast Michigan. I am a newly emerging author, with an interest in writing realistic fiction and portraying the extraordinary and often humorous aspects of seemingly ordinary characters and situations. I have a BA from University of Michigan in English and Spanish, as well as an MA in Educational Studies. I have spent the last six years teaching English and Spanish courses to high school students, and have a passion for helping students find humor and express themselves in writing.

I used to feel like I could win a pie-eating contest, 

but in my quest to look my best  

that feeling, I actively repressed 

Until I convinced myself that eventually I will feel like--

I can run a marathon. 

I used to clog my arteries twice a day,

With McNuggets and fries: my gourmet.

I'd eat pancakes and waffles with real butter, syrup and whipped cream,

I'd drink Coke, sweet tea, and Hawaiian punch slurpees to seem, 

Like I didn't care that it took effort to bend over 

And tie my shoes.

Now they tell me I look like I run marathons. 

I do run 15 miles a week, but only to make cheating on

The diet of a person too tiny to really be Jessica--

Acceptable. 

Now, instead of McNuggets and Fries, 

I have a salad--light dressing on the side.

Instead of waffles with all the real toppings

I have oatmeal with skim milk, but stop me 

before adding half a tablespoon of brown sugar

that would be madness! 

I used to look in the mirror and see 

a big girl who feels guilty about everything she eats,

Now I look into the mirror and see

a big girl who feels guilty about everything she eats. 

My body changed; 

I feel the same. 

Prima Donna, 

I only

Regret

Not

Ending it

Sooner. 

Your former Fat Sidekick

So it happens that we come to this--

A standstill.

Floating between earth and heaven, 

Prompted to lurch forth--

Into a destiny not of our own inclining;

No less manifest, but--

dispossessed, 

Of the freedom to tramp on the weak 

With impunity. 

Freedom is a gift, 

That the guilty oppress, 

But the spirit is a fortress:

Limitless, self-possessed--

The attack on terrain is not a new tale, 

Just remember--

Independence is a bloody business.