I grew up in a world of bitter contempt for those who were different from I. I was taught to believe all that was true, and it did not help that the only other people we "associated with" were members of the "higher society." A community filled with hate and a strong senseof exclusivity. A world of private schools, polo matches, and debutante balls. It all seemed like my whole universe, until I went to Europe.
There, I gained a whole new perspective on life. My parents thought it would refine me, with all the timeless artwork, and palaces, but little did they know. That very same artwork showed me that there are real people in the world. People who had have hearts of gold and innumerable amounts of compassion to give to the world.
What I had been living was not real, it was a world fabricated by our wealthy forefathers in order for us to shun others who were "unworthy". All the medieval tapestries, bohemian paintings, and renaissance sculptures proved to me that you could follow your passions.
I had thought for the longest time that one was supposed to do what was planned by one's parents. I soon realized where me life was headed. I was supposed to go to college, but not to learn, but to find a husband. That was a fate I was not going to stand for…
The next school year, I returned to go into my eleventh year, and it was also the year I, myself would become a debutante. I attended Hattington Academy, an exclusive boarding school where there are no girls, only ladies. I knew it would be hard to go back, andpretend to be my old shallow self, but I had to do it in order to keep the peace. The year started out fine, but while a few girls, including myself, were studying, the rest of the girls gushed over a recent announcement.
There was going to be a formal dance, and the boys from Welton would be in attendance. This was a first for both schools, and to me, it really was not a big ordeal, but I knew I was required to be there. I went into town with all the other girls, and we all piled into the little dress shop.
They were expecting us, so they laid out their most beautiful and most expensive dresses. Most of the girls wanted yellow, a delicate pink, or a powder blue dress, but to me, all those colors seemed so bland.
I looked around until something caught my eye. Way in the corner, near the back, was a patch of silk that was a very vivid shade of red. I discretely walked over to it, and pulled the dress out from under all the others. Form-wise it was not risqué, but the color was considered improper for a young lady to wear. I liked it and decided to try it on, but I told myself that if the dress did not fit perfectly, then I would not buy it.
But indeed, it fit like a dream, and told myself it had to be fate. It had a lower neckline, and the straps were of an ancient Roman styling. I quickly took it to be paid for and had it placed in garment bag.
On my wayto the shoe shop, I spotted my rebellious neighbor, Charlie Dalton. To be quite honest, I did not want him to see me, and that was because every time we would meet, he would always try to get me into his bed! I pretended not to see him, but he would not allow that, so he yelled to me from across the street. He was with a group of boys, who all seemed to be shopping as well Charlie attended Welton, but resented it with a passion.
He walked across the street grandly, and gave me his famous "hey baby" face. I rolled my eyes and wondered what cheap move he was going to put on me next. His group soon followed, and walked across the street in a miniature herd. As they stepped over the curb Charlie introduced them. Steven, Michael, Todd, Knox, and Neil. They all seemed bit nervous, except for Charlie of course.
He told them, "Boys this is my lovely neighbor Genevieve Dixon. She likes to play hard to get!" I gave him a look, and then graciously greeted them. Dalton asked if I would like to join them for coffee, and it would have been rude to refuse, so I walked with them to the corner café, and we all sat and talked. We soon got into the vast subject of literature, one of my favorite subjects.
But one boy in particular, Neil, who seemed to be a sweet boy, with nothing but good intentions, understood, and seemed to feel literature in a similar way I did. Soon, he and I were having a one on one conversation, and everyone else just seemed to observe us, but really did not pay any mind to them.
After a while, I looked up at the clock on the wall, and was distraught when I saw what time it was. I said my farewells, and right as I stood up Neil asked if I was actually going to the dance. I nodded in reply and as I turned to walk away, I was grinning from ear to ear.