Sixteen year old Laurel Gilmore stood, anxiously bouncing, at the bottom of the staircase of the house her family had just moved into, her too-heavy school bag already hoisted over her shoulders. It had been her mother's school bag once upon a time. The yellow had faded miserably and it was covered in duct tape, but she refused to part with it. At least, not until the day it actually disintegrated in her hands and left her stranded with a pile of books too heavy to carry on her own. There was no real reason for it, other than the sentimental value that Laurel herself had applied to it on her first day of kindergarten. She had cried so hard about having to go until Rory had given her the bag, even though it was far too big for a child her size, and she hadn't let go of it since.
"Mom!" She shouted up the stairs, checking her watch and knowing, undoubtedly, that if they didn't leave in the next thirty seconds they were going to be late to her first day at her new school.
Which wouldn't have been a big deal if her new school hadn't been Chilton, her mother's alma mater. Already her mother's reputation had followed her for her entire life, but now that legacy was completely tangible. They were living in the same town that Rory had grown up in, she was going to the same school. In New York, her mother had just been a character in a book. Here, she was so much more.
As if the Gilmore legacy wasn't enough to live up to when it was just words on a page to most people.
"We're going to be late to my first day, which would be a total cliché, you know."
Laurel could have continued the rant, had a pair of ratty old cowboy boots not appeared suddenly at the top of the stairs. Her blue eyes widened as her nearly fifty year old mother came into view wearing booty shorts that exposed her long, bare legs and a pink tie dye t-shirt. It was nothing she had ever seen Rory Gilmore wear before in her entire life. "No, no way," she crossed her arms and firmly shook her head, "You can't wear that, people are going to think we're the Dukes of Hazard!"
There was a spark of mischief in her mother's eyes that Laurel immediately recognized as being reflective of her Grandma Lorelai. "Sorry kid, it's tradition. First day of Chilton calls for mom to dress like the rodeo is in town. You can thank your grandmother for this later."
Narrowing her eyes briefly at her mother, Laurel then turned towards the figure sitting in the living room behind them. "Dad, would you please talk some sense into her?"
Dark eyes peered from over the book her father had been quietly reading on the couch, staying out of everything until this moment. The corners of his lips gently tugged up into a smirk and Laurel knew she had already lost the battle. "Personally, I think she looks pretty hot."
"Gross." With an exasperated sigh, she made face at both of her parents. "Fine, let's go, but you have to stay in the car." Then, with a dramatic flair that she could only have learned from her grandmother, Laurel turned on her heels and stomped out of the house.
From across the room, Rory shared a look with her husband, a thousand words spoken between them, before she disappeared out the door after their daughter.
The kids had been staring at her all morning. Not that she wasn't used to turning heads, Laurel Gilmore had been doing it since before she hit puberty. Lorelai had once joked that she was a prodigy destined to leave more broken hearts in her wake than Liz Taylor. Laurel knew that she stood out in a crowd. She was striking, with her piercing blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. A classic beauty, Miss Patty and Babette had once called her, years ago. If only that had been the reason people were gawking at her now and not because she was fresh meat in a sea of kids who had known each other their whole lives.
Briefly, she wondered if they still used the biblical nicknames they had when her mother had been in high school and whether she would be a Virgin Mary or a Mary Magdalene.
She missed New York already, the loudness and grunginess of her old school.
When she looked up from her schedule, she immediately noticed a sharp-faced girl with dark hair taking long strides up to her. "You must be the new girl, Laurel Gilmore."
"That's the name my good mother gave me," she nodded, "Who are you?"
"Asia Tudor. I'm leading the race for valedictorian in our year, so I just thought I'd introduce myself right away." There was a heat in her gaze, a drive that wasn't hard to recognize. Laurel had seen that same look many times in her life. "I know all about your mother. I've followed her career for years. I've heard her talks, read her book, she's a legend. I admire and respect her, but don't think that things are just going to be handed to you because you think you have some kind of advantage being related to Rory Gilmore. I have skin in the game too, and I'm going to win."
Without even really meaning to, Laurel burst into the laughter at the end of the tirade. She couldn't help it. The whole thing had just been too eerily Paris Geller for her, and Laurel was not intimidated by it for one second. When you had grown up knowing the real Paris, all imitations paled in comparison.
Her reaction had obviously caught Asia off-guard. The dark-haired girl blinked, confusion etched across her face for just a second before she composed herself again. "Just watch yourself, Gilmore."
"Wait," reaching out, Laurel grabbed her arm to stop her before she walked away. Squaring her shoulders, she summoned all her bold, cool confidence. Rory insisted she got that part from her father.
"What?" the brunette snapped.
"My mom had an Asia when she went here," Laurel explained, "Except she was called Paris and they hated each other for a long time before they became best friends. Now, I'm not saying that we should be best friends, but I think we can make each other better. So, let's just call off all the crazy and agree to at least be friendly competitors?"
Looking Laurel up and down once, Asia hesitated briefly.
"Fine," she relented, sucking in a breath. Laurel quirked an eyebrow, waiting to see what followed. "Your next class is English with Mr. Lowell, you should record his lectures. He talks painfully slow so it's impossible to pay attention to him."
Then, just as suddenly as she had appeared in front of Laurel, Asia Tudor turned and stalked away down the hallway without so much as another word. Smiling to herself, Laurel slipped her phone out of her pocket and swiped to dial her mother's number.
"I just met my Paris," she announced before Rory even had a chance to say hello.
"Is she as terrifying?"
"No one could be, but her name is Asia and she's already given me the valedictorian speech."
"Asia, really?"
"Really."
"Mom is going to love this one."
Not a single thing about Luke's Diner had changed in the whole sixteen years that Laurel had been alive. It was one of the most comforting things she knew. As much as everything else could change, like moving out of the brownstone in New York she had grown up in, at least this one little corner of the world could stay the same no matter how much time passed. Even the sign that read William's Hardware out front hadn't been polished or cleaned in her lifetime, it was her favorite thing.
Slipping onto one of the stools in front of the counter, she dropped a thick text book down in front of her, opening it to the first page. Without a word, Luke pushed a plate of pie in front of her and Laurel looked up, beaming at her grandfather. "Just don't tell Lorelai," he warned, "I told her we were all out earlier." She knew without him saying it, he had saved it for her.
"Mum's the word." Laurel pretended to zip her mouth shut and throw away the key and Luke offered her a conspiratorial wink before walking away to clean tables.
As hard as it had been for her to adjust to the move over the summer, Laurel had to admit that getting to hang out at Luke's Diner after school had to be one of the few perks of the move. Sometimes she felt like the diner was the closest she could get to home, her grandfather's gruff, unapologetic behavior was the perfect backdrop for her to clear her mind and focus on her work. The diner was lively and noisy, all of the things she had loved about growing up in the city.
"You would not believe the day I had," a tall, lean brunette threw herself down on the stool next to Laurel, resting her head on the counter and interrupting any plans Laurel had of getting a head start on her new, heavy course load at Chilton.
"Did you and Ryan have another fight?" Laurel asked, pushing a fork towards the other girl as her new seatmate nodded her head and lapsed into the story of the latest tiff with her boyfriend.
Laurel and Sarah Forester had become fast friends over the summer when Laurel had first moved to Stars Hollow. The year before, Sarah had been the new girl in Stars Hollow along with her three older brothers, and had been eager to take Laurel under her wing. They had crossed paths in the past, over holidays when they would each visit their respective set of grandparents in town, but Sarah lived in Scranton and neither girl had ever had an opportunity to get to know each other before. Now, they were inseparable allies. Much to the dismay of their parents.
Apparently Sarah's father, Dean, and Laurel's mother had had quite the history. Everyone had moved on since then though, but there was a palpable tension that still existed between their fathers. Neither knew why, but they had spent many an afternoon theorizing exactly what might have happened all those years ago. Of course, Laurel knew that her mother had written about it in her book, but she hadn't been allowed to read it yet.
Once, when she had been fourteen, she had shop-lifted a copy of it from a bookstore, and attempted to read it in a park nearby. She had felt so guilty though that she immediately returned it to the store before she even got past the first chapter. After confessing her minor brush with juvenile delinquency, Rory had promised Laurel that if she really wanted to read it, she would give Laurel her own, legitimate, copy when she turned sixteen.
That birthday had come and gone, and Laurel's copy of Gilmore Girls had sat untouched on her desk for months. For years she had yearned to read it, but now that she was finally allowed to, Laurel wasn't sure she was ready to know all of her mother's secrets.
"Earth to Laurel!" Sarah waved a hand in front of her face, "Were you even listening?"
"Sorry," shaking her head, Laurel tried to snap out of her trance, "Just tired from school."
"Wish you had just come to SHH with me yet?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
They lapsed into fast-paced conversation about high school life for the next few hours, Laurel pushing the thought of her mother's book aside until later, when she was alone in her new room.
Firming shutting the door so as not to be disturbed by either of her parents, Laurel finally picked up the copy her mother had given her on her birthday. Turning to the first page, she traced the words of the personal message her mother had scrawled there, then started with the dedication.
To my mother, I owe everything to you.
And to my daughter, Laurel, the next generation.
