Kelsey Anne Lovelady was born in Billings, Montana and grew up in Bozeman. At fifteen her family moved to Shawnee Mission, Kansas. She stayed there from her Junior year of high school up until she graduated from Johnson County Community College with her Associate of Arts Degree in Arts and Science. She graduated from the University of Wyoming with her B.F.A. in Musical Theatre and her Minor in Writing. She published her first book, "STAFROGED: Orion" on the day she graduated, and is in the process of rewriting it. She has also dabbled in writing for the theatre with her 10-Minute Play "How Are You?", which was produced by the True Troupe of Cheyenne as part of their 2019 Wrights of Wyoming Playwrighting Festival.
“Eros!” I roared as I flipped the coffee table, spilling my broken laptop onto the floor. “I needed that! Do you have any idea…my files…my calendar!” My rage and dread were making it impossible for me to speak. “I’m gonna kill you!”
I sighed. I was tired. No. I was exhausted in every way one could be. I was emotionally spent from dealing with Atë. I was physically tired from my fight with Sergai. I was mentally exhausted, trying to understand why everyone was so…blind to my intentions. I flopped onto my back next to Eros. This was comfortable. It was our childhood.
“Rough day, cupcake?” Of. Fucking. Course. It wasn’t enough to get caught by anyone who hadn’t been present during my mental breakdown. It wasn’t enough for me to be caught by someone who had been there. I just had to be caught by the traitor herself.
The world stilled for me in that moment, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Persephone swept all of the glasses out of the bar cabinet to get our attention. It was the sting of betrayal that got to me. “How could you?” I asked, my voice the quietest it had been since I had arrived. “Eros, you and Din nearly died because of her actions. How can you defend her?”
Why would you waste your shot like that? How could the world have been different if you had taken it?
I never found or received an answer to either question in the two centuries that had passed. I knew I ever would.
The only thing I knew was that I couldn’t ever make the same mistake that Alexander Hamilton made. Ever.
If you cannot convince Alexander Hamilton to be your right-hand man, the war for freedom will be all but lost. Even if America wins the war on Great Britain, it will crumble in on itself if Hamilton should die in battle. The country’s future is in its hand. We cannot allow him to die, lest he take all of us with him.
Mr. Weis looked up at me in surprised confusion from behind his glasses, which now sat crooked on his face. It took him a second to realize what had happened. There wasn’t a trace of anger or irritation on his face. In fact, his eyes were filled with nothing but respect.
Hell, I was the Revolt House’s secret benefactor who allowed all of them to live in the house, pursue their education and careers, fight for what they believed in, and for a greatly discounted rental price. Honestly, the only appeal about the paycheck was that it would help enforce the persona and history that I presented. And that was beyond valuable to me.
“I thought we were trying to find Representative Abbot’s table. You said you found pictures of her eating here on the dark web.” Best lie I had told. I couldn’t really tell her that I was, by mortal standards, psychic.
I tiptoed up the stairs, utilizing the stealth skills I had learned from all the years of battle strategy I was taught. When I wasn’t using this talent to sneak past my housemates, I was using it to scare them. Accidentally, of course.