Disclaimer: I do not own the trademarks on Gilmore Girls, they are the property of Warner Bros. Television, Dorothy Parker
Drank Here, Hofflund-Polone, and Amy Sherman-Palladino. I'm just using the characters to tell a story.
Summary: Paris writes about the events leading up to and happening during the Chilton Winter Formal, and foresees that her parents' marriage is disintegrating.
Category: Paris' point of view.
Rating: PG-13 for harsh cursing, dark thoughts, and some sex talk, this is what I think Paris is thinking when she writes in her journal. I like all the characters on the show, and mean none of them any harm.
Author's Notes: Before I begin, I just have to say thank you to everybody on Fanfiction.net, and the Paris/Liza Weil Appreciation and Trory threads over on Fanforum for your great comments about the first entry of the journal, I really appreciated what you had to say, and it helped me figure out my niche in GG fanfiction writing. Once again, I thank you.
Sunday, December 10, 2000.
Dear Journal,
Remember a few months ago when I told you about that time I put my Chilton uniform on backwards, and didn't notice my error until the middle of the day? That it was the most humiliating moment of my life? Well, I found something to top that last night, big time.
I had been looking forward to going to the Chilton Winter Formal ever since my first day there ten years ago. It isn't like the prom, which I do not want to go to, because that affair is invitation-only, and only male chauvinist pigs looking to impress their dates by spending lots of money on prom go there. The Formal is alot more relaxed, anyone can go with whoever they want, and they actually play good music. I was so happy, for the first time, I wasn't stuck at the underclassmen's "Snow Dance", where they play mid-90s technocrap like "Are You Ready for This" and "Rhythm is the Dancer" until your ears bleed, and the food tastes like yesterday's lunch leftovers at the cafeteria. The food at the Formal, from what I had heard, was delicious, lots of delectable goodies, like pizza, and ice cream, and pasta -- Damn, I forgot, I can't have dairy! Well, at least they have lots of fruits and vegetables, I guess.
The reason I dreamed of the Formal was my Aunt Ingrid, my favorite relative. When I was about four, one night in December I was reading Huck Finn on the parquet floor in the great room of my house, when an 18-year-old Ingrid came down the stairs in the prettiest gown I had ever seen. It was a long, shimmery blue gown with spaghetti straps on her wide shoulders, and she had a long string of pearls around her neck. When she was coming downstairs, all I could think was, she looks like a princess, and she absolutely did. I just stared at her in awe and told her how pretty she looked.
A few minutes later, her prince came. His name was Humphrey, and he looked so perfect in his suit, he was such a great and caring guy to Aunt Ingrid. Those two were inseparable after the Formal, he proposed to her at Chilton graduation a few months later. When they got married after completing college four years later, they moved to a nice house in New Britain. Aunt Ingrid now owns a flower shop in Bristol, while Uncle Humphrey is a reference librarian at the free library in Hartford. They still love each other like they did that December night twelve years ago.
I was hoping that the magic of a Chilton Winter Formal would rub off on me, and I would live happily ever after. But we are talking about me, Paris Gellar, who really isn't known for her social life. Sure, I have two friends, Madeline and Louise, but they're mainly my friends by default, because no one else could stand to be a friend to those two, all they ever talk about is boys, boys, boys! They really annoy me, telling me who their latest sexual conquest was, it's usually with some guys who are as dense as they are. They keep telling me "Paris, you should try doing it sometime, it's really great." No thank you, I don't need a guy to get ahead in life, and I'm too scared to have sex right now. There's so much that can go wrong, and I don't feel my body can take it. Someday when I'm at Harvard studying hard to become a journalist, Madeline and Louise are probably going to have beg every teacher there for a blow job so they don't get thrown out. I wish I didn't need the Barbie Twins to get through school, but for now they listen and nod at my complaints about life, so they'll do for "friends".
The Formal was my one chance to shine somewhere else other than in academics, and I was going to try to take advantage of it. I was going to talk to Aunt Ingrid about how I could make this a magical night, but unfortunately, she and Uncle Humphrey had decided to take a month long vacation to Japan after she won a contest for the florist of the year from the Connecticut Florist's Society. So instead, I had to talk to my mother, who wasn't exactly Miss Congeniality. She was happy at first to be married to my dad, Harold, but clearly over the last few months, she was getting sick of his constant business trips abroad for his pharmaceutical company. Sharon was becoming a regular at the Connecticut Valley Surgical Center, you name the type of tuck, she's had it. And she's drinking alot more now, I dare not talk to her after ten, otherwise she will go on a verbal tirade for hours about something. Last Monday night when I tried to talk to her, it was an hour and a half symposium on food package sizes, she went on and on about how pissed off she was that her favorite brand of paper towel was cut down by twelve sheets or something. Big fricking deal, who cares mother, good night!
I did not want to talk to Sharon about Formal, she'd tell me to wear one of her ugly dresses instead of buying a nice one for me, to find a date based on the size of his checkbook, and to get a room with a vibrating bed after the dance. And of course to keep putting on that damned pimple cream from Dr. Yanilari that I didn't need, my face was already clearer than a freshly-made pane of glass! I respect my mother, however I do not love her.
And why the fuck did she have to name me Paris? My dad gave me my middle name, Evelyn, which I thought was pretty, and when I turn 18, that will definitely become my first name. Sharon told me she named me Paris because she thought naming a kid after a city was the hip thing to do back in the 80s. Well then, I feel so sorry for the kids back then who were lucky enough to be named Timbuktu, Manhattan, and Stockholm just because their parents thought it was "cool". I decided that I was too angry at my mother to talk to her about formal, besides, she didn't care what I did in the first place anyway, she was too busy comparing the prices for her next boob job.
Unfortunately, the task of learning to make Formal magic fell to Madeline and Louise, who if they fully had it their way, would turn me into the long-lost sister of Britney Spears. So I decided to take care of the dating and makeup thing myself, while they took care of my dress and hair. They actually didn't do a bad job at all, they picked out a nice green dress that accentuated my waist, and the hairstyle they chose to give me for the Formal was respectable. I still missed having Aunt Ingrid help me out with this stuff though, after all, she was my favorite relative, and she knew the true magic of the Winter Formal.
Next, came the task of finding a date. Of course, if it were up to Madeline and Louise, I would've been going out with one of those icky dancers from Rico Suave's off route 5, so I had to find a date myself. I was thinking of going out with Tristan DuGrey, but I had doubts that he would ask me out. We were just schoolmates, I thought. Still, we both had a kinship that stretched many years. Me and Tristan shared war stories of being rich, having the parents who didn't know you, the hours and hours of studying we had to do to make it at Chilton, he was the only one I could call a friend, not a "friend".
And he was the only boy I ever kissed, he kissed me on the last day of eighth grade. Sure, it was on a dare, and he got $20 from his pals for doing it, but for the entire summer, I had a funny light feeling coursing through my body every time I thought of him. I still kinda have that feeling today. I knew we weren't going to become an item, but until this year I was just so happy his lips had touched mine. This year, I wanted to be more than friends with him, I wanted to know more about him, be his confidant, be his girlfriend. But since Tristan was a very popular guy in this school, I knew he would only be my love in my dreams, and I had a certain sense of closure. Maybe I'd find a guy who was just like me someday, a cynic with a dark sense of humor, that's how I think of myself. But for now, I'm the dateless bookworm.
The week before the Formal
I manned the ticket counter for the Formal on Monday along with William
Madden. I was so looking forward to seeing Tristan that day, maybe today
would be the day of my dreams. Louise suggested I cut my hair a little
bit to see if any possible date would notice. Then I see him walking down
the hall towards the table, and hope he's coming my way to ask me out.
But then he stopped to "bother" Rory Gilmore, who apparently is either
going to the Formal alone, or is taking someone from her town with her.
I knew that Tristan was trying to get Rory to go out with him, how could
you not, he's the cutest guy in this school, she would be lucky to go out
with him. But I was noticing something different about this pursuit of
the opposite sex. Usually, he would ask, the girl would accept, they'd
go out on one date and be done with it. He actually looked like he was
trying to seriously ask Rory out for something besides making out. He was
sincere, trying to ask her to the dance, actually admitting he did not
have a date. Once again, she turned him down.
When she said no, I thought I finally had a chance with him, that feeling of hope came back up through my stomach, and into my heart. My hands started quivering, and my knees were knocking into each other. I was a minute away from a date with Tristan!
He finally came up to the table. He asked for two tickets, and put his money down on the table. Then he commented on my new hair length. Now I had goosebumps, and I could feel the nervous sweating in my armpits, no amount of anti-perspirant could have prepared me for this possibility. And then he said the words I had been waiting for a long time to hear.
"So, Paris, do you have a date for the dance?"
Believe me, I so wanted to say I didn't, that I was free to go out with him Saturday night, and for the rest of my life, take me into your arms and kiss me now Tristan! But I just sat there in my seat, my mouth aghast, not knowing what I wanted to say to him. Dammit Paris, hurry it up, say something, blurt it out, do anything...
"Who am I kidding? You wouldn't be free this close to the dance."
Shit! I couldn't do it, I was this fucking close to going out with my dream guy, and I choked. The feeling, the quivering, the goosebumps, they all disappeared as quickly as they came, as I gave Tristan his two tickets, and he left. He is unattainable, at least to me.
Rory came up to the counter next, and I took all my bitterness at the missed opportunity out on her, telling her he was trying to go out with her. She just shrugged and gave me her money. I didn't have enough change to give her, but I was too pissed off to be patient after the close call with Tristan. I yelled at William to give me more change, and he became scared of me. Finally, Rory couldn't wait any longer and decided to refuse the change. I yelled at her a little more as she left after William gave me the dollar of change. Then William had the balls to ask if he could keep it. I told him to shut up and watch the cash box. William did not deserve my rage, he was an innocent bystander in my little tiff.
After Rory left, I just wanted to get the fuck out of Chilton that day, and cry into my pillow at home for not saying yes to Tristan. Which is exactly what I did, for four hours after I got home. Now, not only did I have to deal with Rory in school, I would soon have to deal with her in the race for Tristan's affections. I don't know, I just have an inkling that she'll reciprocate and want to go out with him. I watch those old movies all the time, the ones where the girl hates the new guy at first, but as she learns more about him, starts to see him as a kind person. I felt that was where their relationship was eventually going to be.
The rest of the week passed by very quickly, no surprise, because I'm a social pariah, no one even considered taking me to the Formal, and I was not about to ask anyone myself. My last resort was William Madden, but I knew he didn't want to be seen with me after I chewed him out about the change, so I didn't bother. If I had to go to the dance alone, so be it.
I came home Friday night, actually ready to call Madeline and Louise to tell them not even bother coming over on Saturday because I didn't want to go anymore. What had been the night of Aunt Ingrid's dreams twelve years ago was turning into a horrible nightmare for me, I didn't know where else to turn. Ingrid didn't leave a number for me to call her at in Japan so I could talk to her, so I had to come up with an excuse to skip the Formal. I would claim to my mother that I had a horrible stomach flu from accidentally eating some cheese pizza Friday at school, so I couldn't possibly go because my lactose intolerance flared up. Yeah, that would've worked. Focus on would've worked.
Sharon noticed I hadn't done much at home lately, my room was somewhat of a mess, and most of my clothes were dirty and gathered in a corner of my room. My Formal dress was smushed into an already overfilled dresser drawer, rolled into a ball and forgotten because I never wanted to see that green rag again. She really noticed the schoolwork on my desk though. I had been so busy wallowing because Tristan didn't ask me to the dance, I had left my homework mostly unattended to. I did enough of it so that the teachers wouldn't notice my emotional instability, and that's it. I also had track one of Dido's No Angel album playing nonstop in my CD player since Monday evening, I felt like the chorus of the song fit my feelings about Tristan so perfectly:
I won't go,
I won't sleep,
I can't breathe,
until you're resting here with me,
I won't leave,
I can't hide,
I cannot be,
until you're resting here with me...
Just writing the lyrics to that song in you Journal, makes me think of how much I love that guy. I'm crying right now just writing them.
I was engulfed in the comforter of my huge four-poster bed, wearing my warm and big flannel cloud print pajamas, I felt all alone in the world. My golden hair was a total mess, tied up in knots from a braiding experiment gone wrong, and because I hadn't shampooed it in three days. Sharon sensed something was wrong. She wasn't in one of her manic alcoholic moods, so she became all I wanted her to be; my mother. She sat down at the side of my bed and started to talk to me.
"Paris honey, what's been wrong with you this week, you haven't done
alot lately."
"Mom, I don't have a date for the Formal, I'm an ugly duckling, why
won't anyone ask me?"
"Oh Paris, I'm sorry, you really are a pretty girl, me and your father
know that."
"But Mom, I was so close to getting a date with one guy, and he reneged
at the last minute, and then I scared the hell out of my other possible
date, and, and..."
I started wailing uncontrollably into her shoulder right there, I lost control of my emotions. She took me into her arms and gave me a big bear hug, letting all the tears streaming out of my eyes stain her pink blouse. She took her hand and patted me on my back, letting me know it was okay to cry. She hadn't done this for me in a long time because of her "me" attitude, but when she shows remorse to me, she's not that bad of a person, I wish she would've stayed that way forever.
"Paris, do you still want to go to the dance?"
"Yes mother, I really want to."
"Tell you what, I'll make arrangements for your third cousin Jacob
from Farmington to escort you there, and stay with you like a date. I'll
pay all the expenses, and on Monday you can just tell everybody at school
that you two didn't feel any chemistry, so you broke up. Does that sound
OK Pary?"
She had a good plan there. Not only did I have a date, but my mother showed she still loved me. I decided to accept the offer, with a few conditions. First, no one could be told that Jacob was related to me. Second, he was not to get chummy with anyone at the dance, he was only there for show. Third, after the escort, he had to deny that this date happened. And fourth, no kissing me or hitting on any other girls.
"Thank you mom!", I told her, and then I gave her a big hug back for doing this for me. I figured, what could go wrong?
That night I had the most wonderful dream. I dreamed that Tristan had decided at the last minute to take me to the Formal, so he showed up at my doorstep with six red roses in his hand. I was standing in the doorway with the biggest smile on my face as he confessed his love for me.
"Paris, I have always had this unrequited crush on you, you're not like any other girl I've ever met. You're really smart and funny, and that dress you're wearing looks awesome on your beautiful body. I love you Paris Gellar."
"You don't know how much this means to me, Tristan, you look so handsome in that suit. You're the only man I have ever loved. You don't know how I felt after you kissed me, I was in heaven for days after you did it, please, kiss me again, but this time, make it last."
In that dream, he kissed me longingly and hungrily in the doorway, and I kissed him back with equal passion. While we were catching our breath in between each kiss, we told each other how happy we were that this finally happened, then went back to kissing. I think by the end of the dream, we never made it to the Formal.
Saturday
I was roused awake by my alarm clock, feeling alot better about this
Formal than I did on Friday. Sure, I was going with my cousin, and there
was no way in hell I was going to kiss him, but at least I was going with
someone. Besides, I thought, I have two more Winter Formals after this,
so maybe next year, I'll still have an Aunt Ingrid-type formal.
Madeline and Louise came over around four o'clock to help me get ready. The excuse I had for Jacob towards them was he was a student over at Wethersfield Academy, and he wanted to go with me, so we made a date. They helped me untangle my hair while they were talking about how they were going to take their dates "to the next level" after the formal. Yuck, I did not need to hear that, keep your slutiness to yourself girls. My hair turned out as good as the picture Madeline showed me last week, so I was kinda happy that turned out right.
I ironed out my dress to get the wrinkles out, and put it on. The Barbie Twins said I looked stunning in it, but I should've had more cleavage in it. Oh yeah, just what I wanted to convey to my third cousin, that I was easy like you two. They applied some makeup onto my face, told me I looked pretty, and left to get ready for their dates.
I had to look at myself in the mirror, because of what everyone was saying. I had to say, I have never looked better before in my life. That dress clinged to the side of my body like a candy wrapper, it accentuated my figure perfectly. My mother was right, I was a pretty girl. I actually felt happy with myself, like tonight was going to be the best night of my young life. Still, I felt something was missing, like I should've been going with someone else. Someone like Tristan. I just wanted to go with him so bad, but I just didn't have the guts to tell him how I felt.
I had to stop thinking about the Formal until Jacob came, so I did some of my schoolwork, burying myself in an assignment about the history of India. That must have been a very odd thing to see if you were someone else, looking at me in my Formal dress doing schoolwork. What can I say Journal, I can be odd like that.
Mom called me downstairs around 6:30, saying that Jacob was in the house. The night had begun. I hoped that Jacob would look at me coming down the stairs, happy that he was taking this beautiful young woman out. So I came down the stairs slowly and gracefully, just like Aunt Ingrid did years ago. I was hoping he would say something like "You look great", or "Paris, you're beautiful". But instead he just stared down at the same area of parquet where I had been reading that wondrous night twelve years ago and mumbled, "C'mon, lets go." From that moment on, I knew he wasn't as excited about going to the Formal as I was.
This was the date of my nightmares, Jacob had no interest in making me happy at all, despite my mother's pleading with him to treat me like a queen. He was just in it for the money he got for gas, and he didn't even pump it! He told me to get out and pump gas at the service station, because it was too cold out. Fuck, I wore a light jacket, expecting to stay in the car, get right into the ballroom, have fun, go back into the car, and go home. I wasn't expecting to become a servant to him, after all it was my Formal! So while he was in his warm car, bumping his head back and forth to some stupid rap song, there I stood outside, freezing my ass off in the cold Connecticut winter, hoping that the gas pump would stop pumping soon so I could reheat my body in the car. I so wanted to slug Jacob for making me do that, but I figured, this was an exception, he was going to treat me well the rest of the night.
It just got worse. Instead of going to a nice little sit-down restaurant near the riverfront, my dinner was a greasy hamburger and soggy fries from a fast food joint in the car. And he told me directly before we pulled into the drive thru, "I don't care what you want, I'm going to order your food for you, and you're going to like it!". He started out ordering a cheeseburger, but then I told him about my lactose intolerance. "So, peel the cheese off the burger." Figuring he was trying to be as cheap on this date as possible, I told him that a hamburger would be cheaper. He finally relented and ordered just a burger and fries for me. Worse, he didn't even request any napkins, so I had to sit with my hands in a raised position until we arrived at the ballroom, because Jacob told me if I touched the leather interior with my greasy fingers, I would have to clean his car later. I asked him if he was going out with anyone; he told me yes he was, that her name was Hayley, and she was a great looking girl, much better looking than you Paris, he told me. I couldn't believe it, now this guy was telling me I looked ugly! I just hope that girl has brought a lot of napkins on her next date. What a jerk, I was hoping that once we got to the Formal, I could get away from him and have fun sampling all the great food, and hopefully have fun dancing. It was not to be, though.
From the minute we got to the Formal, Jacob disregarded most of the ground rules I had requested for the date. While I was over at the food table, which was just as good as was described, he decided it would be a great idea to hit on my newly sworn enemy, Rory, despite the fact that she was there with a guy from Stars Hollow that was clearly her date. And a good date at that too. He was exactly the opposite of what Jacob was to me; caring and loving towards Rory, I was watching him all night. He reminded me of Uncle Humphrey so much. Anyway, Jacob gave away the fact that he was my cousin to her. I was pissed! Why, oh why is this guy a pain in the ass? Now not only did I have to deal with Rory learning more about my date, I now had a nice and convenient excuse to kick Jacob's chauvinistic ass in.
I confronted Rory a little later about what she had just learned. She kept trying to tell me she had zero interest in the guy, and that she didn't care who I was going out with. I yelled back at her that she now had the ammunition to bring me down, but clearly, she didn't want to. Then I yelled at her some more, even though she didn't deserve it, it was Jacob who I should've been mad at. I blurted out the whole story of how I couldn't find a date, so I had to ask my mom to set me up with Jacob. I was irrational, and only moments later did I realize that the entire dance was looking at my face. Then Rory had to rub it in.
"I don't have to tell them; you just did."
Now I wasn't the bookworm anymore, I was Miss Desperate, the girl who had to ask her cousin to the dance so she could go to the Formal. What seemed like a good idea last night had turned into the worst night of my life tonight. I just wanted to get home, so for the rest of the Formal, I sat at a table, contemplating my anger towards Jacob, and dodging every inquiry into my dating choice. Finally 9:00 came, and I told Jacob I wanted to go home, while he was trying to get Louise's number, no less. Hey, the perfect couple, a jerk and a slut, I hoped those two would be very happy together. He told Louise he would come back later, and brought me out to the car.
Once we got in the car, I asked him why he treated me like dirt.
"I hate you Paris, you pushed me off a swing when I was seven at the family reunion."
That was his lame fucking reason for ruining my life, that I bullied him a little eight years ago? I couldn't take it anymore, I had to tell him how I felt.
"You know what Jacob, you're a jackass! This was supposed to be the happiest night of my life, everyone told me I looked nice, and they liked you as my date. But you know what? I'm so fucking glad you hit on Rory and Louise, because now I can call your so-called "girlfriend" over at Wethersfield and tell her what a jerk you are for treating me like shit on this date, so she doesn't have to deal with your horrible attitude towards women anymore. I mean, seriously, making me pump your damn gas in my Formal gown, you dick? I was REALLY glad you let me do that for you! I hope you're real happy with yourself Jacob Morgan, you got the revenge you've been waiting for eight years to get, but next time, try getting it in a more private place than a school dance."
I felt a large weight lift off of my shoulders after I yelled at him. I thought he was going to throw me out of the car, or slap me in the face after I did that, but instead, the rest of the ride home was quiet. I couldn't wait to get out of his car and into my nice big bed, so I could once again cry into my pillow and cope.
I wanted to talk to Sharon about what happened during the Formal, but she wasn't home. I forgot she had to go pickup my father at Bradley Airport, so I had to just console myself. I went up to my room and stripped off that dress and threw it into a corner, then I put on my flannel pajamas. I didn't even bother with taking the pins out of my hair, I just wanted to cry in my pillow. I did that for I'd say, five hours, before my tear ducts finally failed me, and I drifted off to sleep, the saddest person in the world.
This Morning,
I did not wake up to the familiar sound of my alarm clock, but instead,
to the sounds of my mother and father arguing. Shit, I don't think they
knew I existed at that moment, because my name was not mentioned in the
conversation. From what I heard listening through the vent, Dad had cheated
on Mom with some business partner in Berlin, and had a heated affair with
the woman. Sharon was basically saying, why me, why me, while Harold tried
to beg for her forgiveness. Sharon then wondered why he wasn't home more
often, because then they could've saved their marriage. And then my father
told her that he didn't love her anymore. He was going to get a divorce
so he could marry his mistress.
I knew right then and there that my life wasn't going to be the same. Once the media gets a hold of this story, because my father is a high profile executive at Balmont Drug Company, everything, from his purchases for his mistress, to the value of each and every item we owned, would be made public during the divorce proceedings, and I was going to be looked at as the daughter of the Gellars, the most scandalous couple in Hartford. I was not looking forward to it at all.
Suddenly, the nightmare that was the Chilton Winter Formal didn't seem
so scary anymore.
And Paris wasn't such a bad name after all, because my caring, but
loopy, mother gave it to me, not my womanizing father.
I have to go be mediator in their argument, my hand is aching from writing so damned much today. I'm sure I'll be back soon though, there's too many things I haven't shared with you yet, Journal. Good day.
P.E.G.