June Hayward isn’t a bad person. She’s sure of it.
The fact is, the events that took place on the way to her becoming a bestselling author were almost, well, happenstance.
It started when she and Athena Liu were out—admittedly drinking a little too heavily—in celebration of Athena’s just-settled deal with Netflix. OK, yeah, June was drinking a bit less out of celebration for her friend and a bit-more out of self-pity. But hey, wouldn’t you?
I mean, she and Athena had gone to college together. They were supposed to be blossoming young writers who rose to fame together. But the beautiful Asian wunderkind, Athena Liu, had found publishing glory while the average-looking white girl, June Hayward, got zip-a-dee-do-dah.
Anyway, back to the heavy drinking.
The girls were both pretty well greased by the time they went back to Athena’s apartment. That’s when June caught sight of the finished first draft of Athena’s next big book: a historical novel about the unsung contributions of Chinese laborers during World War I.
Athena was famously secretive about her projects before she created the first rough draft. So, when she let June read the opening pages, June was the first person to know anything about it. And even with too many drinks under her belt, June could tell the book was brilliant.
Then Athena died.
It was a complete accident! Really. June went to great lengths to save her friend. But by the time the paramedics arrived, Athena was gone. June weepingly spoke with the police. And with tears still flowing, she stumbled home with Athena’s manuscript in her bag.
June dealt with grief.
June dealt with guilt.
Then she dealt with responsibility.
Shouldn’t a great piece of important writing be finished so it could uplift a needy public? she reasoned. And by the time June did all the necessary research and rewrites—weeks of it—she also had to deal with a growing sense of ownership. She asked herself, Wasn’t this much-improved piece of literature just as much hers as it was Athena’s?
June followed her publisher’s advice and used her actual first and middle names, “Juniper Song,” as her published moniker. In a way, that choice marked a new beginning for her. She could start her heretofore mediocre writing career over. She could even sound potentially more ethnic and avoid accusations of cultural misappropriation.
You see it now, right? Everything just sort of fell together, almost all on its own. It just shows that June’s trip to publishing glory was always meant to happen.
Too bad about Athena, though.