"I missed the deadline," Lexi announced, one night as we sat against the library building, in the same spot we sat for our first date, reading.

     I looked up from my book. Streetlight illuminating us just enough to see the pages in my hands and the shadows of Lexi's face, I twisted her way. She was acting nonchalant, but I saw through her. This was a lot more important than she was letting on.

     "They wouldn't accept a late submission?" I tried.

     Lexi shook her head. "They probably wouldn't read it. There are only a few spots in the program, they wouldn't waste one on someone unreliable."

     Lexi was far from unreliable. She was nervous and lacking in confidence. Those were the reasons she missed the deadline. Punctuality and reliability played no part in the scenario. I wanted to tell her that, but I saw in her eyes that she wasn't feeling up to talking it through. So, I settled for smiling sympathetically and assuring her that another opportunity would come. I'd tackled this full swing tomorrow. With great effort I convinced Lexi to send me her piece, to feed my own curiosity. She didn't need to know about the plans twirling in my head. I'd read what we were working with and go from there. Lexi may have been ready to give up, but I was far from letting this go.

     I reread Lexi's words over and over again. I had the pleasure of hearing her speak more than most did; had the pleasure of hearing her voice. Sprawled on my stomach, Laptop placed crookedly over my covers, I couldn't tear my gaze from the screen. Never had Lexi-Grace's voice shone so powerfully, so strikingly as it did in that poem. Words hitting home, I felt like I was truly seeing her. I was looking far beyond her words and into her soul; into the complex brain of which I longed to discover every secret.

     Her words could make a difference. I knew that just like I had, others would relate to her words. People would find peace and hope in her words... If only she let them be heard. I anchored in the idea that this was what my purpose would be; this would be my greatest achievement. As strange as it seemed, this was the way I would change lives. I would introduce the world to Lexi-Grace.

     "So, you liked it?" Lexi inquired apprehensively, on the other end of the phone call.

     "Are you kidding?" I laughed, slightly out of breath. When I heard my phone ring and saw her name on the screen, I lunged off my bed, towards the device on my desk. Even miles away, Lexi didn't fail to fling me into a flustered panic.

     "I loved it," I said seriously. "It was breathtaking, and I don't mean it lightly." I could practically hear the smile on her lips. I could picture the way she would shyly duck her head.

     "I'm serious," I insisted. "People need to see this."

     "I think you're a little bias."

     "Am I?"

      Lexi groaned. "I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean to sound so conceited."

      I howled with laughter. "As much as I'm glad that you've finally acknowledged that I care enough for you to be bias, the high view in which I hold you has nothing to do with my liking of your writing."

     "Well then... I'm glad you liked it."

     "Are you sure you can't submit it late?" I urged once more. "Can't they make an exception?"

     "That's not how these things work, Jaxson," she reasoned desolately. "The deadline is final. There's no second chance... And a lack of punctuality isn't the greatest first impression."

     "But—"

     "Jaxson, it's fine."

     "It's not," I asserted, sitting up in bed. "They would want to hear it." They needed to hear it. People needed to hear Lexi's experience of simultaneously loving and disliking herself. Her honest feelings of doubt and anxiety could be shared by many, I had no doubt of that.

     "Maybe next year."

     "Can you send it?" I asked firmly. "I'm not asking if you want too, but rather if you're physically capable of sending them an email."

      Lexi sighed. "Yes. But I doubt they would read it."

     "Where there's doubt, there's still a chance."

      "I appreciate—"

      "Just think of it as a normal assignment," I pushed. "If we submit something a day late, then we're docked ten percent. So, you're docked a few points. No big deal. Your piece will still stand out."

      "Again, that's not how it works." Lexi laughed half-heartedly. "And you're severely overestimating my writing."

      "I think you're severely underestimating it."

      Lexi sighed in amused exasperation. "You have no idea what other people submitted. How could you possibly know who's better?"

      "Gut feeling." I spoke with utmost conviction.

     "Did you eat something funny?"

      "Lexi!" I cried both in frustration and amusement. "You are never allowed to complain that I'm the stubborn one."

      "I'm not stubborn," Lexi muttered at the same time that I mumbled a self-assured, "I'm going to fix this for you."

      "What?" Lexi queried urgently, missing my words over hers. I heard the squeaking of a chair as if she had jaggedly adjusted her position.

       "Nothing you need to worry about," I feigned indifference. I knew she wouldn't want me to meddle. But to her misfortune, that wasn't going to stop me. I had my mind set on making this happen. I was given a second chance at life to make this happen.

      "Jaxson," she warned. "It's too late to get involved. Promise me you won't try to fix this."

      I was silent for many moments. I considered my words carefully before answering.

      "I promise I won't try to fix this," I ultimately caved. I meant my promise. I wouldn't try to fix it. I would fix it. I was going to make them listen. Whoever them was.