Okay before you read the next two chapters, keep in mind I wrote them a pretty long time ago. Don't question-- my method of orderness is a little... drifty.And I was trying to connect some stuff together so they might be a little rough on the edges. Anyways, on with the story.
Well Jamie and I are over. Rory says wallowing, Oprah suggested gratitude journals, and Tristin insisted on the 'Three Gs' as he offhandedly put it "Go out. Get high. Get laid." In which Rory had in turn smacked him on the head and told me not to listen.
Which I won't. Because hello, it's Tristin.
And Doyle asked me on a date. I'm supposed to RSVP by tomorrow. I have to keep that in mind. Stuck post it notes and 12 by 12 posters all over my house to remind me to.
TV interview today. You stand in front of a camera and blab on about the joy of Chilton schooling remaining completely calm and in control. My hives, unexpected rashes, and hyperventation will be under limitations due to a visit to my psychiatrist yesterday. He wasn't going to give me the meds at first but changed his mind after I tried to swing his thousand dollar lamp at his head.
AH! Mailman!
And with that, I kind of ran over and knocked him over. But no matter, because now in my hands. I have the letter. Which will determine. The fate of my existence.
And I'm speaking in broken segments. Okay, enough with the building tension, time to open the nice little letter from Harvard.
HAHA! HARVARD!
Dear Miss Gellar we are sorry to inform you that…
Wait what?
… we cannot accept you at this point.
I didn't… get in?
Oh god. Now would be the perfect time for Ashton Kutcher to run in and yell "YOU'VE BEEN PUNK'D! HAHAHAH!"
So far no Ashton.
For the next hour, I spent my time, sitting there, partly wondering which Wal Mart I'll be working at and partly debating whether or not I'll still be able to afford C Span after my parents kick me out of the house and refuse to pay my tuition for Clown School.
Halfway through my thinking daze however, I somehow realized I was late for that damn Chilton TV interview.
And as I dragged my sorry ass through the big Chilton gates, Rory Gilmore runs over in her pretty little dress, which reminded me that I myself looked like a mess and the nice blue suit I spent the whole day picking out before was still sitting there sadly in my room, and grabs my arm.
"Paris, where have you been? The interview starts in two minutes!"
Can't… respond... Stupid… Harvard…
"Paris?"
Harvard… Harvard…
At this point I'm seeing little elves wearing Harvard sweaters waving little Harvard banners in my face singing, 'lalala! Paris isn't in Harvard! Paris isn't in Harvard!'
Grrr…No Paris, you will be calm. Calm and composed. Yes.
At some point in my little inner monologue, Rory had dragged me behind the podium and was now blabbering away in front to camera about 'Oh Chilton's so great this, Chilton's so great that!' AHHHHHH! CHILTON CHILTON CHILTON!
"… It really is an amazing experience, everyone strives to be on top. And to the teachers here, teaching isn't just a job, it's life," Rory blabbered away, "blahblah, blahblah, blahblahblah. Paris would you like to add anything?"
Ahh… I'm seeing elves again.
"Paris?"
Elves… Elves… Harvard… Chilton.
Chilton. The whole reason why I came to this hellhole was for Harvard. Chilton was supposed to guide me to Harvard. And now, I'm seeing elves… singing… dancing… mocking… haha Paris… haha…
"You know how when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes?"
Rory looks uneasy, "Um, Paris that's not part of the—
"Yeah well, that's exactly what it felt like when I opened this tiny envelope from Harvard, I repeat, I got the tiny envelope! Saying haha you had sex so now we're not excepting you!"
There are a few gasps in the crowd.
Headmaster Charleston looks like he swallowed a cow.
Oh there's plenty more where that came from, babe.
"Chilton," I laughed bitterly, "How ironic! I'm standing here today supposed to be talking about how amazingly great Chilton is. For four year, I slaved away on the Franklin, throwing myself at every fucking extracurricular activity known to man!"
I don't know whether it was how I was representing Chilton that made Headmaster Charleston cry, or whether it was I dropped the F- bomb on national television on a program supposedly watched by kids ages 4 to 75. of course when you're 75, you're not exactly a kid anymore...
"Paris…" Rory attempted to calm me down.
"And you know what? I still didn't get in! You know why?" I jabbed a finger at Jamie who was in the audience looking uneasy, "Him! Him! I lost my virginity to him! I was drunk! And now that I've had sex, so god is punishing me by saying 'Oh sorry Paris, you had sex with the manwhore so now we're not letting you in!'"
Jamie looked like he was about to bolt. Haha! I hope his parents are watching this.
"It's his fault Harvard doesn't want me now! Because, oh no, Harvard only wants goody goody virgins like her!" I point to Rory, "She's never had sex before! Nuh uh! Not once! And god knows how hard it is when you have the king of Chilton throwing himself at—
"Oookay, that's enough sugar for you!" Rory cut in quickly, grabbing my arm.
"DAMN ADAM AND EVE! DAMN TEENAGE HORMONES! D—
Rory practically hauled me offstage before I could say 'damn' again
So much for calm and composed.
and there it is. not so good. But I was too lazy to rewrite it. Lots of Trory action is the next chapter though