Notes | I am back from the dead and now i come as a ghost to haunt the archive.
"Again, I'm sorry. I know I said I was supposed to come home earlier." Kristen Gregory said to Massie Block over the phone, double checking her suitcase to see if she had packed everything.
"Kristen, no need to apologize," Massie reassured her, "I'm sure it was no big deal."
"Yeah, no big deal." Kristen repeated, trying to rationalize that there was nothing wrong with the fact that she delayed her own arrival not because of something important but because she took an impromptu nap while packing her belongings (might as well get it somewhere to prepare for the long week ahead of her).
It was a good thing Darrow Preparatory School had the week off at the same time as Briarwood-Octavian Country Day (the school she would have gone to if it weren't for her mother's meddling). She could come back home just in time to see her friends screwing the hell out of spring break, leaving her barely trying to catch its phone number.
For Kristen, "break" was a misnomer. Apparently to her teachers, spending a week off from school meant more time to focus on long-term assignments and projects instead of, well, relaxing. And why go through all this trouble? Turns out Darrow Preparatory School was the gateway to any college worth talking about. ("Ninety percent of students got accepted into Ivy League schools," her mother told her that one faithful morning during the summer before freshman year, "and not just Cornell or Dartmouth, I'm talking Harvard, Princeton, and Yale.")
"Whatever, it's no worries," Kristen heaved a heavy sigh. "I'll just get a taxi and I'll get there at around five."
"There is no way I'm letting you come home in one of those shitty, stale aired, sad excuses for transportation." Kristen could almost hear Massie grimacing through the phone, "Dylan offered to pick you up at three. She should be there by now." Kristen's stomach nearly jolting at the very thought of her flighty friend driving her home. After failing her road test three times, Dylan Marvil wasn't exactly the world's best driver. Kristen was recently informed about one of the redhead's most infamous journeys involving some broken speed limits, a family of deer, and a trucker with a bad case of road rage.
But on the plus side, she could save her money.
Kristen had to admit, the stress of school was partly her fault as well. Ever since she was twelve, her parents had let her in on the plans that would get her into HYP (Stanford, although part of the initialism, was too far and would add airfare to the already unaffordable expenses the family had to pay).
She would attended one of the most prestigious boarding schools in New York (boarding school to instill a feeling of independence before she turns eighteen). An eclectic number of advanced placement classes would pad her class schedules. Start prepping for standardize tests during the summer after her sophomore year. Work her body to her breaking point to earn the spot of captain of the girls' soccer team as well as making sure she has leadership positions in almost every extracurricular she participates in— all leading up to the day when the powers-that-be tell her they want her to be a part of their undergraduate class of 2020. Graduate college. Change the world. Then retire living in fancy mansion drinking martinis on a recliner.
And for the first two years of high school, achieving that goal wasn't that bad.
But then Junior Year came, the climax of her high school journey. Conversations with her mother about her future turn from hopeful to almost passive-aggressive. Classmates were more pompous and competitive than usual and phrases such as "strong extra-curricular" and "merit scholar" was all that seemed to come out of their blasé, overachieving mouths. The worst part of it was the practice tests. Each time she took one of the prep books stack high on her desk and completed a test, she would mark up her answer sheet just to end up with a mediocre score.
SAT: 1950, ACT: 28, APs: 3
It's not that they're bad scores, she would say to herself, it's just not Ivy League material.
In an attempt to redeem herself, she would take the tests again. No improvements.
This cannot be happening, she thought. This could not be her peak. After all it was Junior Year, and Junior Year was the year that all her hard work and caffeine-induced all-nighters had been leading up to. If her highest was a score that could easily get her into the same college as that ditzy Olivia Ryan then her life has simply lost all meaning, which is one of the reasons she has arrived at a decision that could change the entire direction of her future.
Her parents would kill her.
She won't even notice, they'll just poison her in her sleep.
She calmed down a bit when the familiar sight of her friend sitting on the bench by the main security desk caught her eye. She had on aviator sunglasses and a floral, silk headscarf that snuggly tucked in a mass of red ringlets. It would have created a sophisticated European kind of look if she hadn't been trying to stuff a half-eaten slice of greasy cheese pizza into her mouth with a drop of grease dripping down her hand. Classic Dyl.
There was something about seeing her favorite idiot for the first time in months that made it hard for Kristen to suppress a smile.
"I could have sworn you were in the exact same position when I left for Darrow." Kristen deadpanned, facing in front of her friend who was about to devour the last of her pizza crust. Dylan's eyes lit up as she realized who was talking to her.
After popping her last bit of crust into her mouth, Dylan wiped her hands and mouth with her napkin and disposed of it in the trash. "I could have sworn people that got accepted into big-time boarding schools knew how to tell time." She cracked a half smile and spread out her arms before embracing her, "how've you been?"
"Tired," Kristen half-closed her eyes for effect, "I didn't get any sleep because apparently my roommate decided it was a good idea to Skype her loud cousins in the middle of the night."
Dylan pouted sympathetically for her friend. "Aw, don't worry," she took some of Kristen's luggage and led her to the front of the building, "after the party, you can sleep all you want."
"Nobody told me anything about a party."
"Oh," she widened her eyes, realizing what she had told Kristen and then smirked. "Oops. Well, it's not supposed to be a legit surprise party, where everybody's hiding behind the furniture when you walk in, but still act like I haven't told you anything."
"So, we're going to drop off my stuff at my apartment then head on over to Massie's?"
"Yup," she pushed down the handles of the luggage and put her hands in a "ta-da" position, gesturing to the blue Mercedes before her.
"Cool car." Kristen mused.
"You like?" Dylan turned off the car alarm and trotted around the car, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back on the driver side with pride. "I just got it a couple of months ago. It was a belated 'Congratulations-Dylan-We-Never-Thought-You-Would-Pass-Your-Driver's-Test' Birthday present." She opened the car door and hopped into the driver's seat, putting her aviators into the glasses case at the top of the car. It took her a couple of seconds while she took off her headscarf and fluffed out her red curls to realize that Kristen was still outside by the passenger's seat looking hesitant. "Get in!" Dylan climbed over the passenger seat and stuck her head out the window. "Look, I promise, no accidents. We'll get there on time."
.
"Any plans this week?" Kristen asked Dylan once they were on the highway.
"Shopping with the girls and visiting my dad with my sisters Easter weekend."
"The uzhe?"
"Yeah, I'm kind of in a rut these days. We all are. But in other news," Dylan sing-songed, "Claire and Josh are finally together."
"About time,"
"Right? After months of Alicia, Massie, and I's constant meddling, she finally took initiative and ask him out." Dylan laughed.
Dylan's driving had actually gotten a little better (a little being the key words). Besides the occasional eye contact aversion from the road and taking her hands off the wheel whenever she talked, her turns and stops were less jerky and her swerving eased to a minimum. Taking this as a sign that maybe she could relax, Kristen gradually released her fists and knees from their tight clenches.
"So how's the glamorous life of Dylan Marvil?" Kristen purred as she crossed her legs and leaned towards her like an intrusive talk show host.
"Psssht!" Dylan scoffed. "Far from glamorous; I woke up at eleven this morning, poured myself a bowl of cereal, plopped on the couch and watched Friends on Netflix in my PJs." She took a moment to change the subject, "My mom wanted me to intern for her show?"
"Are you going to?"
"Nah, it doesn't seem like something I would do."
"Honestly, what do you want to do?" she crossed her legs. Her sudden intense interest came from the fact that she realized she was so caught up in her own drama that she never thought to ask what her friends wanted to do after high school.
Dylan shrugged, "I don't know. I always pictured myself buying an apartment on the Upper East Side and sort of just finding myself in Manhattan—whatever that means. And I don't really peg myself as the college type. I mean that's all you."
Maybe she didn't ask because she already knew what the answers were and didn't feel like hearing the words actually coming out of their mouths. Leading successful lives and travelling around the world without all the endless studying and fear of wasting money, making all of Kristen's hard work seem useless.
"How's Darrow anyway?"
"Actually, Dyl," Kristen straightened up and paused for a moment. Maybe telling one of her friends first and seeing their reaction would ease her anxiety of telling her parents, "I was thinking of dropping out."
"You what?!" Dylan's eyes bulged as she slammed the gas pedal, causing the car to accelerate.
"Shit, Dylan, look!" Kristen frantically pointed to what was happening in front of them. Dylan let out an 'Oh My God' as she saw her car quickly approaching the back of the van in front of them. Going with her first instinct, she veered onto the next three lanes, leading her to the nearby exit. Dashing onto the deceleration lane, she slammed the breaks , making them slow down just in time to halt, meeting traffic, which gave the both of them time to catch their breath and Kristen to ease her ever so rapidly pounding heart.
After a series of deep breaths, Dylan finally said, "Well… that was fun," trying to break the tension, but it was evident that Kristen was in no mood for it.
"'Promise no accidents' she said, 'we'll get there on time' she said." Kristen muttered as she grabbed half of her luggage from the trunk.
"Okay, okay, relax! We didn't actually get into any accidents." Dylan caught up to her with the other half, panting as they both entered the lobby of the Pinewood.
"We would have gotten into an accident if I hadn't said anything when you decided to hit the brakes on a highway."
"Well, I wouldn't have hit the brakes if you hadn't decided to drop the biggest bombshell in the world that you were dropping out of Darrow!"
"Shhh, could you be any louder?" Kristen chided her as they went inside the elevator, "The last thing I want is for my parents to find out I'm dropping out from you."
"Maybe that living-in-an-apartment thing won't work out. I suddenly remembered that I'm too loud for apartments."
"Trust me, if you ever lived an apartment I'd probably be the only person willing to be your neighbor."
.
"I'm home!"
"Well, there's our superstar." Kristen's dad's voice echoed through the foyer.
"Yeah, we're just going to put my stuff upstairs in my room then I'll come down and talk." The girls panted as they trudged the suitcases up the staircase. As they got to Kristen's room, they plopped everything on the ground and themselves on top of the luggage. Kristen rested her head on Dylan's shoulder as she took a second to take in the arrangement her room. Beckham, her white Persian cat was sleeping in the left-hand corner right beside her green beanbag chair. A large blue shag rug that covered the hard wood floor was spread out in the middle of the room. The best part was the empty desk to her left –not a single test prep book in sight. It reminded her of a simpler time.
Dylan spoke softly, interrupting Kristen's thoughts, "You know that feeling you get when you haven't been to a place you've known your whole life for a long time, and suddenly you come back and it feels like you never left?" she paused, giving Kristen a chance to grasp what she just said."You feeling that right now?"
She didn't answer her. Instead she got up and sat on her bed, her arms behind her back as she exhaled eight months of stress into the consoling air of her bedroom.
"I'll take that as a yes," Dylan gave a small smile. "Don't get too comfortable; your parents are still waiting for you downstairs."
"I'm glad you're home," Kristen's dad started as he heard the two girls coming downstairs. He was sitting at the table with Kristen's mom with a glass of in his hand, "when you get back from Massie's house, we need to talk about college tours. And," he averted his attention from his daughter to her friend, "Dylan, you were driving her home?"
"I sure was, Mr. G!" Dylan hooked her arm around Kristen and pulled her in closely. "And don't worry. I made sure your little Krissy here buckled her seatbelt and drove her home safely."
"Oh, you're hilarious," Kristen whispered to her, to which Dylan shushed and patted her on the shoulder.
"Speaking of colleges," Kristen's mom finally spoke up, "A lot of them require you to talk one to three SAT Subject Tests, so I registered you to take them in June."
"Ok." Kristen nodded, a little upset that her mother made a decision without consulting with her first.
"I was thinking you could take Math Level 2, Chemistry, and World History. They are your best subjects, so there is no doubt you will get anything less than a 750. Now, I know what you're thinking, you think you're going to be crunched for time because of AP Exam— you don't even have to study for it! You can just walk in and do the test cold. I mean you're taking AP Calculus BC; it would be a cinch for you."
"Really?" Kristen asked. The temperature seemed to get warmer. More tests meant more average scores.
She look at Dylan, who looked up from her texting just in time to realize there was a pause in the conversation, then looked at her mom, patiently waiting for her to say something else. Kristen cleared her throat, "I'll make sure I'll get started when I go back to Darrow."
Dylan's eyebrows furrowed, "Kristen, isn't there something—"
"Oh, yeah! Mom, Dad, I have to go. Everybody's waiting for me at Massie's." Kristen led Dylan, who had a puzzled look on her face, out the front door.
Twenty-minutes into the car ride and Kristen could no longer take the silence. Who was Dylan to be so concerned about what she told her parents?
"Are you going to give me the silent treatment the whole ride there?"
Dylan heaved a heavy sigh before pulling over to the curb. They parked in front of the lawn of an ivory colored house with a brick facade. "Why didn't you tell your parents you were dropping out?" she asked with genuine concern.
"Ted and Marsha?" Kristen scoffed. "Have you met my parents? They nearly had a heart attack when I told them I wanted to quit those summer Geometry classes I was taking the summer between 8th and 9th grade."
"I mean, I don't even know why you want to drop in the first place. That's so un-Kristen-like of you"
Something about hearing her name as an adjective really got on her nerves. "Well, sometimes I don't always want to be Kristen-like?"
She must have been thinking out loud because when she turned around she could see Dylan's sympathetic eyes looking down on her, about to give her some heartwarming advice like the concerned best friend she was. Damn her. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
"Trust me, it's nothing."
"You sure?"
Kristen gave a curt nod, "Yeah."
Dylan took one last good look Kristen before putting the car in drive again. She contorted her mouth to the side, her gaze following her lips as she exhaled heavily throw her nose, which is what she usually did when she had something to say but refrained from speaking to not start a fight.
"So, what's the point of this party anyway? Massie knows I come home every year." Kristen asked steps away from Massie's front door.
"Well, Kristen, you know Massie. She hears you're coming home and—"
"And she just wanted an excuse to throw a party?"
"Exactly!" she grinned, "Now work on your surprise face."
.
"WE'RE HERE!" Dylan bellowed as Alicia and Claire raced from the kitchen to embrace Kristen.
"Welcome back!" Massie, arms crossed, being the last to join the group hug. After several seconds, they all broke away and went into the kitchen, where Kristen could see all of the festivities happening in the backyard. Booming music that no one could resist dancing to blasted from the speakers on the deck, an assortment of pizzas, sandwiches, fruit, and vegetable platters sat on a white cloth covered table, it was pretty grand for a party that's allegedly for Kristen.
She thought back to what Dylan had asked her earlier back at her apartment. Coming back home for the first time in months, it actually does feel like she hasn't been here in a while. Between Alicia, Massie, and Dylan cracking up at some funny antidote Cam had told them, Kemp and Plovert in awe, seeing how many cups of "apple juice" Derrick could chug without getting "dizzy", and Claire awkwardly trying to flirt with Josh (who nevertheless found it endearing), Kristen couldn't help but feel that a certain part of her life was missing. After all, don't people always say that high school was supposed to be the best years of your life? Well, they are the best years if you don't anticipate a bright future ahead of you, but there is no doubt that the most hardworking person took a break to have a social life.
Yeah right.
"Hey, Kristen!" Massie broke away from her little group in the middle of hearing about Cam's encounter with a hitchhiker, "You come back home for the first time in months, don't you want to catch up with your friends?"
"Yeah, in a minute." She took a seat on the couch in the Block's living room, flipping the channels with the remote, looking for something good to watch. When she realized there was nothing good to watch, her body compelled her to lie down on the couch and her upper eyelids drooped to meet the bottom ones.
I'll just rest my eyes for a while, and then I'll go back home.
so, this is my first non-oneshot story, and i just wanted to "test the waters" and keep it short and manageable.
reviews are nice, i guess.