Against the odds

1# the dreamer

Emily Carter stood in her small, cluttered bedroom, staring at the glowing screen of her phone. She blinked once, twice, before rereading the email that had just landed in her inbox.

Congratulations, Emily! You’ve won a backstage pass to meet Jack Steele!

Her heart thudded against her ribcage. For a moment, she thought this had to be a prank—a cruel joke to toy with her dreams. But there it was, the logo of the contest she’d entered a month ago, stamped clearly at the top of the email.

She dropped onto her bed, her paint-stained hands clutching the phone as if it might disappear at any second. Jack Steele, the man whose music had carried her through so many dark moments, the global pop sensation who seemed untouchable—she was going to meet him.

“Emily! Dinner’s ready!” Her mom’s voice drifted up the stairs, snapping her out of her trance.

“Coming!” she shouted back, though her legs didn’t move. She sat there for another minute, staring at the email, her mind racing.

Jack Steele wasn’t just a celebrity to her. He was her escape. His songs, filled with raw emotion and honesty, had been her companions during late nights when the weight of her small-town life felt unbearable. She’d spent hours sketching his face, imagining what he might be like in person. But that was all it had ever been—imagination.

Now, the impossible was happening.

---

Downstairs, the scent of roasted chicken and garlic filled the air. Emily slid into her usual seat at the kitchen table, still in a daze.

“You’re quiet tonight,” her mom said, passing her a plate. “Everything okay?”

Emily hesitated, wondering if she should tell her. “I, uh, entered a contest last month. And… I won.”

Her mom raised an eyebrow. “What kind of contest?”

“To meet Jack Steele,” Emily said quickly, her cheeks flushing.

Her older brother, Ryan, snorted from across the table. “Jack Steele? The guy with the cheesy love songs?”

“They’re not cheesy,” Emily shot back, her voice sharp. “He writes about real things. Things that matter.”

Ryan smirked. “Like heartbreak and glitter?”

“Knock it off,” their mom said, though there was a hint of amusement in her tone. “That’s amazing, Emily. When do you meet him?”

“Next month. It’s during his concert in Chicago,” Emily replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She still couldn’t believe it herself.

Her mom frowned slightly. “Chicago? That’s quite a trip. How are you planning to get there?”

“I… I’ll figure it out,” Emily said quickly. She didn’t want to ruin the moment by worrying about logistics.

Her mom gave her a long look but didn’t press the issue. “Well, it sounds like an incredible opportunity. Just be careful, okay? Those celebrity worlds can be… complicated.”

Emily nodded, though she wasn’t really listening. Her mind was already spinning with what she would say to Jack Steele when they met.

---

Later that night, Emily sat at her desk, sketchbook open. She’d been working on a portrait of Jack for weeks, capturing the sharp line of his jaw, the spark in his eyes when he sang. Her pencil moved quickly, shading in the details, as if the act of drawing him could somehow prepare her for meeting him.

“You’re insane,” she muttered to herself. “This is never going to happen. Not really.”

But the email had been real. And as she stared at Jack’s face on the paper, she couldn’t help but wonder—what would he think of her?

Would he see her as just another fan? Or could he somehow, impossibly, see something more?

For the first time in years, Emily allowed herself to dream.

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