(Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to update! School, tests, etc.
Just so you know, this section is Cherry's point of view ( I also kind of
made up this college, so bear with me.)
Cherry's POV: Just One Long Train Ride
The Atland School of Alternative Psychology. I could sigh happily just thinking about it. I dream of that school the way most teenage boys dream of Britney Spears. It was a tiny school, where the work was one-on-one. Alternative psychology is my projected field. It makes perfect sense to me, and I hoped I could make Nicky's family understand what it was.
I sighed, and Nicky glanced at me, "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," I said, manufacturing a small smile. "Just a bit tired. I stayed up too late studying."
He just gave me a reassuring kiss in my hair and went back to the Stephen King book I'd lent him.
The Atland school. Beautiful, and certain to push me on my way to my future. It was a school so exclusive and picky that you can't even apply. They comb schools across the world and find people to interview. And they'd found me. They'd found me at the beginning of my junior year, before I'd even met Nicky. Back when Brent and I had deteriorated into strangers connected by a cheap cubic-z ring. They'd contacted me, they'd come out to interview me, and they'd vanished again. By now, late May, I'd nearly forgotten.
But they hadn't. I got in. Not only did I get in, but I got a scholarship that included an apartment off campus. The only catch? The damn college was out in California. The stupid letter came this morning. I didn't even have a chance to read it until Penn station, while I waited for Nicky to show up with the luggage. I'd hid the letter quickly when I'd seen him.
I looked up at Nicky. I could honestly say I loved him. I hadn't expected to. I always figured I'd fall for someone professionally minded like myself, on his way to grad school, ready to make a mark in the world. A confused but reasonably content bartender had never entered my thoughts.
How could I turn down my dream school? On the other hand, how could I go away and leave him behind? I'm not much for long distance relationships. In fact (as proven with Brent) I tend to stray. Love is very emotional, but it's also greatly tied to the physical for me. I need the physical presence, or it's not a relationship.
I closed my eyes tightly. In one letter, my world had shattered in half. And it sucked.
* * *
The next thing I knew, Nicky was shaking me awake. "We're here, Cherry. And I can see my sister on the platform."
"Which one?" I asked wryly as I stood and fetched my stuff.
"Mal." He grabbed my hand and practically dragged me off the train. I was tempted to be irritated, and then remembered he hadn't seen his family since Christmas. And it tugged at me again – he wouldn't want to leave his family three thousand miles behind, even if I did dare to ask him to come with me to California.
I was still blinking sleepily when we landed on the platform. I woke up a little as he grabbed a short redheaded woman and hugged her tightly, lifting her and spinning her. At that point, I couldn't help but smile.
She laughed and struggled to put her hair back in place when her feet touched solid ground again. "You must be Cherry," she said, turning to me. "I'm Mallory Pike – well, soon to become Mallory Rouchard." She gestured to the man at her side. "This is my fiancé Luke Rouchard."
I smiled at the man, spooked by how much he resembled Mark Hammil in the first Star Wars.
"I know," he said with a dry smile. "Don't even say it."
"So," Mallory said, taking my arm and beginning to lead me away. "What is it you study?"
I glanced back at the men, who shrugged and started hefting luggage. I grinned and turned to Mal. "Psychology. Alternative psychology, specifically."
"What's that?"
I sighed inwardly. "A lot of people can't express themselves through words well, so normal therapy, talking things out, is useless. They get flustered and frustrated and nothing gets accomplished. But a lot of those people can express what they feel through, I don't know, painting, or poetry, or music. And once they've straightened that out, they usually find the words."
I couldn't believe it; she actually looked fascinated. By this time we were standing next to a pretty rental car and she was studying me intently. "How did you become interested in this?"
I smiled a bit sadly. "I started therapy about five years ago, and got stuck, and my therapist told me to take time and write it down. I wrote songs – and I found the music to fit them. I learned to play the piano. And now…."
"Now you can talk about those things better? That's pretty interesting. What kind of songs?"
I glanced over at Nicky, struggling with all the luggage. He was almost within earshot, so I just said quietly. "Painful ones."
She just nodded. I think she knew better than to push. She gestured to the car and we got in, leaving our poor men to get the baggage into the car. "Ready to face the Pike Troop?" she said with a smile.
I found myself smiling. "For Nicky, I'll manage."
(Author's Note: I may or may not use Cherry's POV again. I found it awkward, but I needed this info out in the open.)
Cherry's POV: Just One Long Train Ride
The Atland School of Alternative Psychology. I could sigh happily just thinking about it. I dream of that school the way most teenage boys dream of Britney Spears. It was a tiny school, where the work was one-on-one. Alternative psychology is my projected field. It makes perfect sense to me, and I hoped I could make Nicky's family understand what it was.
I sighed, and Nicky glanced at me, "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," I said, manufacturing a small smile. "Just a bit tired. I stayed up too late studying."
He just gave me a reassuring kiss in my hair and went back to the Stephen King book I'd lent him.
The Atland school. Beautiful, and certain to push me on my way to my future. It was a school so exclusive and picky that you can't even apply. They comb schools across the world and find people to interview. And they'd found me. They'd found me at the beginning of my junior year, before I'd even met Nicky. Back when Brent and I had deteriorated into strangers connected by a cheap cubic-z ring. They'd contacted me, they'd come out to interview me, and they'd vanished again. By now, late May, I'd nearly forgotten.
But they hadn't. I got in. Not only did I get in, but I got a scholarship that included an apartment off campus. The only catch? The damn college was out in California. The stupid letter came this morning. I didn't even have a chance to read it until Penn station, while I waited for Nicky to show up with the luggage. I'd hid the letter quickly when I'd seen him.
I looked up at Nicky. I could honestly say I loved him. I hadn't expected to. I always figured I'd fall for someone professionally minded like myself, on his way to grad school, ready to make a mark in the world. A confused but reasonably content bartender had never entered my thoughts.
How could I turn down my dream school? On the other hand, how could I go away and leave him behind? I'm not much for long distance relationships. In fact (as proven with Brent) I tend to stray. Love is very emotional, but it's also greatly tied to the physical for me. I need the physical presence, or it's not a relationship.
I closed my eyes tightly. In one letter, my world had shattered in half. And it sucked.
* * *
The next thing I knew, Nicky was shaking me awake. "We're here, Cherry. And I can see my sister on the platform."
"Which one?" I asked wryly as I stood and fetched my stuff.
"Mal." He grabbed my hand and practically dragged me off the train. I was tempted to be irritated, and then remembered he hadn't seen his family since Christmas. And it tugged at me again – he wouldn't want to leave his family three thousand miles behind, even if I did dare to ask him to come with me to California.
I was still blinking sleepily when we landed on the platform. I woke up a little as he grabbed a short redheaded woman and hugged her tightly, lifting her and spinning her. At that point, I couldn't help but smile.
She laughed and struggled to put her hair back in place when her feet touched solid ground again. "You must be Cherry," she said, turning to me. "I'm Mallory Pike – well, soon to become Mallory Rouchard." She gestured to the man at her side. "This is my fiancé Luke Rouchard."
I smiled at the man, spooked by how much he resembled Mark Hammil in the first Star Wars.
"I know," he said with a dry smile. "Don't even say it."
"So," Mallory said, taking my arm and beginning to lead me away. "What is it you study?"
I glanced back at the men, who shrugged and started hefting luggage. I grinned and turned to Mal. "Psychology. Alternative psychology, specifically."
"What's that?"
I sighed inwardly. "A lot of people can't express themselves through words well, so normal therapy, talking things out, is useless. They get flustered and frustrated and nothing gets accomplished. But a lot of those people can express what they feel through, I don't know, painting, or poetry, or music. And once they've straightened that out, they usually find the words."
I couldn't believe it; she actually looked fascinated. By this time we were standing next to a pretty rental car and she was studying me intently. "How did you become interested in this?"
I smiled a bit sadly. "I started therapy about five years ago, and got stuck, and my therapist told me to take time and write it down. I wrote songs – and I found the music to fit them. I learned to play the piano. And now…."
"Now you can talk about those things better? That's pretty interesting. What kind of songs?"
I glanced over at Nicky, struggling with all the luggage. He was almost within earshot, so I just said quietly. "Painful ones."
She just nodded. I think she knew better than to push. She gestured to the car and we got in, leaving our poor men to get the baggage into the car. "Ready to face the Pike Troop?" she said with a smile.
I found myself smiling. "For Nicky, I'll manage."
(Author's Note: I may or may not use Cherry's POV again. I found it awkward, but I needed this info out in the open.)