Read The Problem With Crazy Online
Authors: Lauren McKellar
The Problem With Crazy (38 page)
“Are you having fun?”
I cringed.
Really, Mum? Fun?
My fumbling finally resulted in success and I shook the bra off, quickly shrugging my normal one over my shoulders and throwing my T-shirt on top of that. It hung loosely over my hips, the grey speckled material suiting my mood to a tee.
Ha. See what I did there?
Making bad jokes to yourself: a potential symptom of heartache. Thankfully, not a symptom of Huntington’s disease.
I grabbed my purse from the little seat the staff at the lingerie store so kindly provided its change room patrons, and walked to the front of the store to the checkout area, sports bra in hand, ready to make the purchase.
The guy in front of me at the counter was taking a really long time. He had six different sets of lingerie to put through. I couldn’t help but check around his arm to see what. Black lace, red silk, black pleather … and was that something with fur I could see?
“Stop stickybeaking.” Mum slapped my arm, and I snapped my head back to my chest.
“It’s a public place,” I whispered. The transaction in front of me continued. Hopefully, underwear-fetish guy hadn’t heard.
“People don’t like you to look at their knickers, Kate.” Mum tutted quietly, shaking her head.
“Well maybe
people
shouldn’t buy quite so many pairs. And besides,” I hissed, raising my eyebrows at her. “We don’t know that he’s going to wear them all at once.”
“Ahem.”
Of course. You whisper three fairly innocent sentences, but the one about the guy in front of you being a cross-dressing lingerie wearer, he hears.
“Sorry.” I studied the ground.
The man turned around to face me. He had maroon leather shoes, scuffed, like they’d seen better days. My gaze travelled up his black jeans, over his red-chequered shirt with the triangular collar, the black scarf around his chin, covering his lips, his nose—but not his eyes.
Holy hell, did the man have eyes.
“Kate.”
I blinked.
What?
How did this guy know my name?
“Yes?” Mum replied, and I jabbed an elbow to her ribs.
“That’s me.” I smiled brightly. “Sorry about the panties-wearing comment.”
“To be fair, this does look a little weird,” the guy said.
You can say that again …
“We just have this film clip tomorrow, and the stupid wardrobe guy said the models won’t fit any of the … you know …” The man jerked his thumb toward the counter, indicating the underwear the checkout chick had now finished ringing up.
Cogs clicked in my head. This wasn’t—
“Lee?” I silently added
freaking-Collins
. If he was going to the trouble of wearing a bad scarf by way of disguise, I doubted he’d be keen on me screaming his full name in a crowded shopping centre.
“Yeah?”
Silence.
“Kate’s just so happy to see you, is all,” Mum said. She took a step closer. “Hard to recognise, behind that scarf there.”
“That’s kind of the point.” Lee gave her a wink. I swear, my mother blushed.
“Well, we’d love to have you over for dinner sometime, since you’re in town,” Mum was saying, her hands clasped together. She opened her mouth to continue speaking.
“But being a really busy guy, we wouldn’t actually expect you to come.” I overlapped.
“Well, if we invited you formally, we would,” Mum said, giving me a strange look.
“I mean, I could.” Lee spoke the words softly, taking a step closer. “So long as you don’t tell anyone about my secret identity.”
Mum giggled like a schoolgirl.
Help me, God
.
I looked past her. Two men in dark jackets stood at the entrance to the store, no doubt Lee’s security. He’d get mobbed if anyone figured out who he was. One of them was fiddling with some flimsy looking bra on a stand out front, and the other observing people who walked past in the shopping centre, and—
Him
.
I dropped the sports bra and ran, shouldering Mum as I surged forward, out the doors of the shop.
Left?
Right
.
I could just make out the brown hair bobbing in the distance.
I bolted, as fast as my legs could carry me, darting around mothers with prams, old people supported by walking frames, and teenagers making their way to the food court in an achingly slow fashion.
Turning the corner, I could see the hair again, but it was still too far away. My knees raised higher, my feet hit the ground harder, and I gave it all I had. I couldn’t let this opportunity get away. I had to take it. I had to
make
it.
This time when I turned the corner, he was almost within arm’s reach. Ignoring the stares I was getting from the lunchtime food-court crowd, I dove, reaching out and grabbing onto the denim of his jeans as I fell.
I hit the ground, hard. Tiles smashed into my ribs, my knee, the side of my jaw. Everything went black for a few moments, and I blinked, trying to clear my vision.
When I could focus again, I looked up. Faces hovered over me, voices yelling things, asking things that I couldn’t quite make out.
I need you.
Then I saw him. The blue jeans, the white shirt. The brown floppy hair.
I blinked, and concentrated all my brainpower on focusing on his face.
His face, Kate. Look at his face
.
“Lachlan?”
I blinked again. An old man wearing a chocolate-coloured beret stared back at me.
Shit.
Read other books by Lauren K. McKellar
Huntington’s disease is a genetic, neurodegenerative disease that causes brain cell death. While the author has endeavoured to portray the suffering of real patients in this book, she understands that no fictionalised story can really grasp the pain and the difficulty these people and their families go through in everyday life.
Victims of Huntington’s disease can suffer from involuntary movement, memory difficulties, mood disorders, hindered coordination, difficulty with problem solving, some issues with swallowing, and personality changes.
Following the onset of symptoms, the average life expectancy of a Huntington’s disease sufferer is between fifteen and twenty-five years.
There are many great support bodies out there for those affected by this horrible illness. The author would encourage you to contact your state organisation or body, should you wish to learn more.
Discussion topics and educational questions on themes, structure and characterisation are available for school groups studying this novel. Please contact Lauren K. McKellar for more information via her website at
laurenkmckellar.com
.
As writers, we’re often our own worst critics. It’s not often I put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, in this case, and don’t hit the delete button straight away.
The Problem With Crazy
, though, is the story I just haven’t been able to quit. I started it more than a year and a half ago, when I met someone who suffered from Huntington’s, and wasn’t able to let the idea go that such an unfair disease can receive such little attention in the media.
This story wouldn’t have ever left my computer if it weren’t for the help of four very special beta readers. Rebecca Berto, you snapped me out of it. You told me to cut the crap, and you were right. Thanks for sticking with me. Anabel Gonzalez, you picked up on those little things I wouldn’t in a million years have ever noticed. Stacey Nash, you read, you reread, and then you reread again; your patience knows no bounds, and you made me believe in myself as a writer. And Emily Tippetts, you gave me clarity in the changes I needed to make, when I most needed to make them. Thank you all.
My fabulous cover designer, Rebecca Berto of Berto Designs, you are a gem, and I love what you’ve created. E. M. Tippetts, you have done a fabulous job with my formatting, and I can’t thank you enough. Also, thanks to Kylie from Give Me Books for helping out with my promotion, and all the lovely bloggers I’ve met along the way—you guys
rock
, and I want to send you all virtual cupcakes for the support I’ve received.
I also need to thank my lovely family and friends who put up with me always being late for everything, for waking up too early, and going to bed too late, and for understanding that my Saturday nights are often me, my laptop and my puppies—no socialising allowed.
When it comes to thanking people, I couldn’t go without thanking Peter. You’re the one person who leaves me lost for words. You laugh with me, you support me, you feed and water me—and for some crazy reason, you love me. Thanks, lover.
Last, but by no means least, thank
YOU
for reading this book. Thanks for sticking with Kate and hearing her story. If you enjoyed this, I’d love it if you left a review on Amazon or Goodreads, and, if you’d like to know more about Huntington’s disease, I’d highly encourage you to contact your nearest organisation. Thanks so much for making my dream a reality.
Lauren K. McKellar is a writer and editor of fact and fiction. She has worked in publishing for more than eight years, and recently returned to her first love: writing books that make you feel.
Lauren loves to write for the Young and New Adult markets, and blogs with Aussie Owned and Read, as well as vlogging with the YA Rebels.
In her free time, Lauren enjoys long walks on the beach with her two super-cute dogs and her partner-in-crime/fiancé.
Connect with Lauren
This ebook was designed and formatted by
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Copyright © 2014 Lauren K. McKellar
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No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-9924524-0-7
Cover copyright © Rebecca Berto of
Berto Designs
Editing by Danielle Poiesz of
Double Vision Editorial
Formatting by
E.M. Tippetts Book Designs
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