In a small town by a river, in a small white house on the south side of town, lived a small family. An average family, the father worked as a mechanic, the mother worked as a waitress, trying to provide the best for their 3 blonde haired children. The oldest two, both boys, had graduated from college and moved away, leaving only the youngest, a daughter, behind. From the outside, they appeared to be like any other family, loving and kind. On the inside, the family was like any other family, loving and kind.
The town was different than what most would think, small enough to only have one high school, but large enough that the tracks created an unspoken barrier between both sides of town. Plagued as all small towns are, not much ever happened. Every day, the townspeople woke up, went to their jobs, and came back to their houses. There hadn't been a murder in over 15 years, and the biggest problem that the police department faced was keeping the local teens out of the woods by the river after dark- the local high school kids liked to use the area for bonfires and underaged drinking. Quiet and peaceful, some would call it the ideal place to grow up, to raise a family, to grow old.
But our story is not about the ideal town, or the average family. Our story is about a girl, who is sleeping peacefully in her bedroom at the top of the stairs, in the small white house, on the south side of town, in the small town by the river. In her closest, hung an array of satin spaghetti strap dresses, crop top's, and plaid skirts, but the crown jewel of her closet was the blue and gold cheerleading uniform- a prized possession as this year, she would sit atop the pyramid at Riverdale High. Her vanity was covered in small hair clips and modest makeup, her favorite a soft pink lip stain. The walls of her bedroom were covered in CD sleeves, magazine cut outs, posters of her favorite rock bands and her favorite pop stars. The small desk that sat by the window was littered in magazine cut outs and articles, her diary lay open to an entry from the day before.
Only one more year. I keep telling myself that, over and over again. Only one more year. This place is suffocating and stifling, I want a big city and bright lights, my name in a glossy print magazine. Only one more year…
Her entry had been interrupted, her mother had called her to help with dinner. After dinner meant catching the latest episode of The X Files and laying out her clothes for the next day. Around 9PM, her best friend Hermione called to coordinate their outfits and go over their schedule for the next day one more time. The first day of their senior year of high school, and Hermione was insisting that everything was perfect. She had lost track of time, and fallen asleep, dreaming of the day to come tomorrow, and she almost didn't hear the soft knock on her bedroom window.
Her eyes danced as she opened the window, letting the boy that lived next door into her bedroom. His dark hair flopped in his face, his brown eyes took in her bathrobe as he pulled her in close in an embrace. They had spent the first 17 years of their lives living next door to each other, and overtime, their friendship had blossomed into something more. Their days were spent in a booth at the local diner, or snuggled together in the bed of his truck at the drive in, but every night, he climbed the ladder outside of her bedroom window, and snuck into her bedroom.
Delores Smith finished her shift at Pop's Chocklite Shoppe, and checked the time as she started her car. She was almost late. It was 5:55 when she pulled into her small white house on the southside of town, and she stepped carefully up the stairs to her youngest daughter's bedroom at the top of the stairs. She listened carefully for just a moment, not hearing any sound of movement. She hesitated, almost knocked, before deciding to push her away into the room on the other side of the door. What she found on the other side, startled her. Her youngest daughter, her will-be-valedictorian daughter, that would this year sit at the top of the pyramid, her perfect long blonde hair, splayed across the chest of a dark haired boy.
"Good morning, Alice." Her voice rang out into the quiet of the room, lacking its normal cheerful tone.
Alice sat up, a look of horror on her face, her light pink negligee falling off of her shoulder, glanced up to meet her mother's face.
"Mom, knocking would be nice."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware you had company this morning. You need to get up, get ready, or you'll both be late. The first day of your senior year, you don't want to start off on the wrong foot."
The boy with the dark hair stirred slowly, his eyes fluttering to open and struggling to catch up with the conversation that was taking place before him. He sat up fast, reaching for the sweatshirt that he had discarded at the foot of the bed.
"Good morning, FP. Will you be joining us for breakfast?"