"Thanks for giving up your lunch for me." I had hoped to brush in lightly and appear collected and graceful, instead I had hurried in and dropped in the chair like a harried waiter about to enjoy her five second break.
"Miss Gilmore, I've reviewd your transcripts and you have an excellant potential. You just need some...fine tuning."
An image of a Stradivarious violin popped in my head. I smiled pleasently.
"Have you seen the posters for the fall play?" My college advice counselor slid an audition call form for "Julie and R-man" across her gleamingly clean desk.
I winced. My dream bubbly erased the image of the voilin and replaced it with a screeching banjo. "Julie and R-man" was an insult to William Shakespeare. Just before coming in I'd ranted with Paris about what an insult it was.
"According to your file notes, you did a very convincing Juliet your sophomore year. A fine art credit would look exemplirary on your file, very well-rounded, very Chilton."
I struggled slightly in my chair. "I can't sing a note, ma'am."
She dismissed the notion airly. "The choir director will teach you, you'll have extensive praoctice and rehersal. I highly recommend that you audition."
I squirmed. "How about Latin club?" I detest Latin, a firm sign that I was grasping at straws.
She gave me a knowing look. "Miss...Gilmore, see, Julie and R-man is getting a lot of notoritity." She paused for effect. "Many college representitives will be present. Ivy League."
I frowned slighly. "I don't think the theatre program is for me."
She signed and moved on to my class schedule, but I wasn't listening. I was looking at the audition form in front of me.
I grinned at a girl as I got into my car. Lately I've noticed that a full-frontal grin makes them really giddy, like I noticed them individually and they made me smile. When, in reality, I don't know the chick's name and her car is a wreck. And, come on, what girl could seriously find herself "amazing" in a plaid, pleated box skirt?
"He-e-e-ey!" A group of boys were catcalling. I glanced over to see who the girl in question was.
Rory "Mary" Gilmore.
Of course.
She was walking alone, head held high in silent fury and a few books, in order of size were slung in one arm.
I started pulling out of the parking lot and watched her in amusement.
I sidled the car next to the sidewalk she was walking on and stayed by her side, looking at her. I rolled down my window even though my top was down.
"Hi Mary." I smiled.
She didn't look at me. "Afternoon, Tristan." She said icily. About mid-junior year she gave up on arguing about her nickname. I was a little disappointed actually, she'd at least face me if she wanted to bicker about her name.
"Need a ride?"
"I like the bus, thank you."
"How's Dean?" I asked in fake politeness. They had broken up a few months ago and I always pretended not to remember.
"Ask him yourself."
"Egg sale Tuesdays."
She gave me a sidelong, disgusted look. "You're pathetic."
"Mary, don't tell me that you're so rich that you buy eggs when they're not on sale!"
She stopped. I braked.
"You're impossible." She muttered.
"Mar, how about going to the Winter Waltz with me." You know what is more pathetic than me following her? I knew she was going to say no. 100. Yet somehow, the words jumped from my mouth anyway.
She opened her mouth.
I cut off whatever sharp remark she had on the edge of her tounge. "Think about it, Mar. You know you want me." I snapped and pointed lustfully at her while I drove away.
I watched his headlights buzz a firey red and disappear in the line of Mercedes, BMSs, and Jags. I swear, Chilton's parking lot is a regular car showcase.
Tristan is the very definiteion of incorrigible. He's impossible and never gives up. He's good looking and he knows it! He's so quick with a comeback! I need Mom, she'd hit him or leave him utterly tongue-tied. A feat that I myself have never been able to accomplish.
I stomped onto the bus and angrily watched the school vanish behind perfectly manicured hedges.
Chilton is so elite it doesn't have buses, especially not out of Hartford. I have to take the evil public bus, and the same driver always leers at me like the school uniform is a third eye, or a Nazi swatzika.
Finally the car got to Stars Hollow and my body found its proper resting place on the couch with my AP English novel and a Fudgesicle. I let my limbs melt into the mismatched pillows and find their happy place.
"Hey Ror, did the counselor send you any advice for your Harvard App?" Mom waltzed in with a pint carton of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey.
I frowned. "She said I needed to be more well-rounded in the fine arts department."
"Oh! Play the triangle in the school band. That's what I did!"
I gave her my most sarcastic look, "Puh-leeze." I knew I sounded like Michelle on Full House, but Mom couldn't play a kazoo.
"Well, I would have if someone hadn't been kicking my spleen at the time."
"The spleen." I looked back to War and Peace "Is the only section of your body that you can live without." I said matter-of-factually.
"Oh! Look at me! My name is Rory Gilmore, and I command immidiate recall of useless information!"
"It's not useleess, it's my essay question for Human Bio on Friday."
"Well, Miss Smarty-Pants, when is the Brady Bunch re-run where Marsha meets the enemy school's football captaion, who's a totaly babe by the way, even if he's just doing it to steal Greg's playbook?"
I ignored her.
"Sunday at seven! That's right!" She looked at her watch. "Remind me to TiVo it, won't you, my little circus freak?"
I ignored her.
"Soooo, how did she recommend you become fine with art?"
I looked over the edge of my book. "Try out for the upcoming school musical."
She laughed. "Will you."
"NO!"
She looked thoughtful. "Look hun, you're not doing all this studying and putting in all these hours just to get a rejection letter because you have stage fright are you?"
The same thought had been swimming around my head since lunch. I sighed.
"Just a thought." She put the punt down and looked at her watch again. "I'm meeting Miss Patty for Bingo."
I blinked. "What?"
"Bingo.I'm an old maid, kiddo! I've got a college kid comin'!" She smiled gaily. "Anyway, the grand prize is a toaster! A white one! So instead of cleaning the old one, we'll just replace him!"
I smiled finally.
"AH! The sun did come up." She kissed the top of my head. "Be back wtih Troy."
"Troy?"
"I've already named out new burning device."
"Of bread-scalding torture." I chimed in.
I watched her leave, then pulled ou the Julie and R-man audition form that thecounselor had thrown in between a Notre Dame and Yale brochure.
"Past experience." I mumbled as I pulled out my pen. "None."
Sorry that these updates have taken so long, but I just finished my summer job so expect faster updates. And for anyone who read "The Jerk", guess what! I PASSED MY AP TEST! wootness.
-pen
