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Before we begin, I want to go over a few things:
You might find a lot of this preface to be familiar. It's because I've taken bits and pieces of the old previous prefaces––bits and pieces that are still relevant to the story. There is a lot that's different in here too, so I can't wait for you to read it!
Even though this is an edited draft, this is still a draft. Meaning, even as I post this, it's not 100% what I'd publish in a printed novel. But of course, you get that. It's all a process!
And finally, PREVIOUSLY ON THE FAMOUX: As you might remember, Emilee Parvenu became Emeray Essence, the newest member of the Famoux. She replaced a girl named Bree Arch, who died on camera during a Darkening. Life in the Famoux has been a whirlwind for Emeray, but it hasn't been without its danger. DEFED, the scary anonymous group that killed Bree, threatened to kill the least popular member at the next Darkening, sending all the members into a panic of trying to be the most liked. Along the way, Emeray fell in love with Chapter, but the love was squashed by Norax, who promptly set Emeray up in a dating contract with Kaytee's ex-boyfriend Cartney Kirk. At the Darkening, the members were blindsided when Foster, who seemed pretty secure in his overall public likability, ended up being the one DEFED killed. But unbeknownst to our little Famoux members, one of DEFED member's is Finley... Foster's old lover from his past life before the Famoux.
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SO WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT, YOU ASK?
LET THE GAMES BEGIN. ONWARD.
emeray
When I was younger, and unaware of the world's cruel capabilities, I never thought I'd get used to being hated. Hate isn't exactly something you anticipate having to consistently face in your everyday life. It's not something vitally present in your thoughts when you're learning how to walk, to talk, to eat without someone there to hold the spoon to your lips. Hate isn't something you hope for when you're walking into class on your first ever day of school. It's not on your radar.
When you're young, really young, all you know is the color of your parents' eyes when they look at you, and the wallpaper in your room, and the glint of your spit on chewed-up train sets. You only see hate in unpleasant little glimpses. A few arguments. A couple disagreements. A scolding or two.
