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and hide in my bed. Pull the covers over my head, and just die.
    My father just watches me. Patiently. Waiting. I sigh. It's weird. It's almost because my dad is so willing to let me sulk that I can never do that around him. It makes me feel childish. So I look up. "I need a plan. I can't do nothing for a year."
    He nods in agreement.
    "But what?" I slump all over again. I scowl at nothing. "I hate the idea of Marv selling my art to Harrowgate. God! It makes my blood boil."
    "Well," says my father. "Why don't you call them? You're the artist. Maybe they'll listen to you."
    I blink. Could it be that easy? My dad smiles and gets up. "Don't take too long, though. Your mother's bread is waiting."
    I find the Harrowgate website, locate their contact page, and dial their main number. It rings, and I quickly navigate their phone menu till finally a receptionist answers. I identify myself and am asked to wait as I'm connected to the right person.
    Finally, an older woman answers the phone. "This is Julia Castle. Can I help you?"
    "Hi. My name's Kiera Jones. I'm the artist behind Iron and Roses - the company whose work you've agreed to distribute internationally?"
    "Ah, yes. A pleasure to meet you, Kiera. Let me clarify, however: we haven't yet agreed to distribute your work. You first need to be selected out of the finalists by our acquisitions committee."
    I sit bolt upright. "This isn't a done deal? Oh! What a relief!"
    There's a confused pause, and then Julia says, "A... relief?"
    "Oh, yes. I've been forced out of Iron and Roses through fraud, and my - my business partner is now in sole control. I'm taking him to court, but I was terrified that my art was going to be sold against my will."
    "Oh, dear. Well." I can practically hear the wheels spinning in Julia's mind. "I'm sorry to hear that. But no, Iron and Roses, while a very strong contender, has not yet definitively been selected."
    "Is there a chance I can ask for our application to be withdrawn?"
    "No, I'm afraid not. Such a request would have to come from Iron and Roses itself. I'm sorry."
    "Oh." My hope scrunches up like a paper ball and goes flying into the trashcan of despair. "Of course. I understand."
    There's a pregnant pause. I don't know what else to say.
    "Miss Jones." I hear hesitation in Julia's voice. "As the artist behind the pieces we so admire at Iron and Roses, I hate to see you in this position. I cannot interfere in any way with the selection process, but I could perhaps allow you to submit a new collection of work to be entered in the running."
    "You could?" I sit bolt upright all over again. My paper ball bounces out of the trashcan of despair, and floats up onto the pedestal of supreme hope. "Really?"
    "Yes. You're obviously qualified. If you can submit a sample that's clearly superior to the art we received from Iron and Roses, there's no reason your new line wouldn't be chosen over your old."
    "Oh, thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!" I want to squeal and clap my hands, but force myself to remain professional. "By when do I have to send you the pieces?"
    "I can delay the selection process, but not by much. The most I can give you is... let's see. Two weeks."
    "Two weeks?" My god, I can't handle this roller coaster of emotion. Marv no doubt submitted the best pieces from my entire career, the pieces I worked on for months on end with the help of my assistants. Two weeks? I want to laugh bitterly. What can I do in two weeks? "Thank you. I'll send you my best pieces within that time frame." My voice is wooden and hollow.
    "I'm sorry, Miss Jones. That's the best I can do."
    "Oh, no, you've been wonderful. Thank you. I'll - I'll be in touch." I hang up, and stare at the phone. Two weeks. I fight back the desire to throw in the towel before the fight's even begun, but then I scowl. No. I'll do my best. Even if I only send in one piece. If it's the only chance I have of beating Marv, then I'll take it.
    Though, to be fair, I'm not fighting Marv. I'm