I suppose I should clear some things up. One, no, Seth and Summer and everyone else won't be making much of an appearence in here; really only in brief passing. Two, I've finally decided how I'm ending this story, so I won't be dragging it out too long. And three, I feel like I keep saying this, but I absolutely adore this fic and I hope you all do too. Although you'll probably hate me for this chapter...
Try to enjoy!
Music: don't know if I want you to see through me; I confess this heavy heart has me on my knees
He'd expected to feel liberated.
No girlfriend, no drama, no problems.
Well, Seth and Summer were having problems, but then that wasn't really news. He wasn't quite sure what was going on with them because – for once – Seth was keeping his mouth shut. He figured it was about college, though; something about them both applying to Brown? For some reason, he thought only one kid from Harbor could get into Brown, so why had they both applied?
Maybe Seth had told him; maybe Seth had been talking nonstop about whatever his problem was since it started. He couldn't be sure; he'd stopped paying attention to things.
Breaking up with Marissa had been the right thing to do; he knew it, she knew it - hell, everyone knew it. She'd even moved on – she was dating that Johnny kid from Union.
The one who'd been 'just a friend'.
He should feel liberated, but he didn't. He just felt… stuck. Like everything was moving on around him, but he wasn't going anywhere. Even his own life was moving without him – he'd applied to college. He went to school every day and came home and hung out with Seth and Summer and had dinner with the Cohens.
His life was happening and it was like he didn't even notice it.
Somewhere along the way, he'd given up trying to care.
Her apartment was… nice, she guessed.
Kind of small.
But compared to her house – her old house – anything would seem small. Plus, that was the point, right? Cut down on costs. She didn't need the extra room, the excess stuff. Now she had just the essentials – bedroom, bathroom, living room, kitchen.
Mr. Cohen had helped her find the place.
After Ryan told the Cohens about her problems, she'd tried to fire him, but he'd refused to let her. Which was weird – you can't just refuse to be fired. But Mr. Cohen had somehow convinced her to keep him on as her lawyer, and he'd helped her set up a savings fund and sell her house and find this apartment.
So now she was here and she felt – for the first time since her mother's death – truly alone.
Sure, she had Mr. Cohen to talk to and she went to school and saw people there, but it wasn't the same. Back at her house, she'd always felt her mother's presence – stamped on every surface. The woman may have been physically gone, but her memory definitely stuck around. But now she had this new apartment and her mother was gone.
It was strangely depressing.
Plus, the kids at school pretty much left her alone now. They didn't even try to make fun of her like they used to. She was a leper; ignored completely so they wouldn't have to deal – so they wouldn't have to feel bad for making fun of the girl whose mom just died. She went to school and even the teachers didn't call on her.
And Ryan wasn't around anymore.
But that was a good thing.
Sure, it'd be nice to have someone to talk to again, and she sure wouldn't complain about the view. But even though she knew she wanted him, it wasn't healthy to let herself be used. He needed to get over Marissa on his own; not by getting back at her with her rival. And she knew that if Ryan kept coming around – being nice and acting like her friend – she'd just end up in bed with him again.
So it was better he didn't come around anymore.
He was losing his mind.
The paper couldn't say what he thought it said. He had to be seeing things; losing his mind.
There was no way he actually got into college.
But there was the paper in his hands: Dear Ryan, congratulations on your acceptance…
He couldn't bring himself to read any more than that.
"Hello?"
He looked up at Summer, who'd come in without even knocking.
"Summer," he nodded, trying to shake off the dizziness. "Hey."
"I got in!" she grinned, waving her letter in his face.
"Congratulations," he hugged her, feeling a strange sort of excitement rushing up through his stomach that made him pick her up and twirl her around. "That's amazing."
"Thanks," she grinned. If she was taken aback by his sudden - uncharacteristic - burst of enthusiasm, she said nothing. "Did you…" Her eyes went to the paper he still held in his hands and his heart jumped in his chest.
"Yes."
He wasn't hallucinating.
He was going to college.
The papers were spread out on the table in front of her, torn envelopes next to them. Her eyes shifted in and out of focus, but she didn't need to read them again – they were burned into her memory.
Dear Taylor, congratulations… Dear Miss Townsend, we are pleased to inform you… Taylor Townsend, we are happy to announce…
Ten letters from ten universities, in three different countries, all saying the same thing: hello, this is your life calling.
The logos stamped on the top of each paper made her heart jump; Oxford, the Sorbonne, every college in the Ivy League - Princeton, Yale, Harvard, Colombia, Cornell, University of Pennsylvania, Dartmouth – except for Brown, so she wouldn't be able to take Seth's chance. She'd even applied to UC Berkeley, as a backup. At least a state college would be cheaper.
Because she was still living off her minimum wage job and the leftovers from the sale of her house.
He felt like his head was going to explode.
His neck hurt, his eyes strained from reading everyone's sweatshirts.
From reading where everyone was going to college.
Marissa was there with Johnny, in a pink Berkeley shirt. She smiled at him and he smiled back and that was the extent of it. No drama, no pain, no longing glances.
Seth and Summer had long ago disappeared and he anticipated having to hear something later. Seth was acting weird – well, weirder than usual – and he just knew something bad was going to happen tonight. But so far he'd spent the bonfire talking to kids he'd never even been on the radar of, all because they were wearing the same sweatshirts.
University of California.
There were a lot of them going, although a good chunk of them were going to the LA campus rather than Berkeley, but still. It was weird.
Because people were talking to him like it wasn't surprising he got in. Like it was just a given that he was going.
He needed a drink and he really hoped some idiot had spiked the punch, because he could use the boost right now.
Taylor was standing by the refreshment table, talking in rapid fire Korean with some guy. Considering the catering truck from a Korean restaurant downtown, he assumed the guy had supplied the food. Taylor wasn't in the social committee anymore, but apparently they still used her contacts.
"Taylor, hey," he nodded at her and she broke off her conversation with the caterer.
"Ryan." Then her eyes flicked down and she attempted a smile. "Berkeley? Congratulations."
"Thanks. And you too, for getting into…" he looked down at her sweatshirt for reference and frowned.
"The Sorbonne," she supplied and from the pronunciation, he assumed it was French.
"Yeah. I have no idea where that is, but congrats."
She nodded and poured herself a drink and he stood there, unsure whether he should go or not.
Would it be rude just to leave? Or did she expect him to hang around and talk?
They hadn't talked in a while; nearly a month. He'd heard from Sandy that she'd sold her house and moved into a smaller place, but ever since their… encounter, he couldn't bring himself to go over and check up on her like he used to.
"It's in Paris," she said, out of nowhere. She turned around to stare out at the party, swirling the liquid in her cup, but she didn't drink. "And it's only if I can go."
"Why wouldn't you?" He almost made a comment about how it wasn't like she needed her mom's permission, or anything. She would've laughed at that - she had a sick sense of humor - but it was still in bad taste, so he kept his mouth shut.
"If we can get my mom's accounts cleared up in time, I can go. But if not, I may be joining you and half of Harbor's population at UC Berkeley."
"Berkeley's not so bad," he shrugged, feeling his enthusiasm dip a little. Nothing dampened the mood like being reminded that everyone else he knew was going Ivy League and he wasn't.
"I didn't mean it like that," she amended softly, frowning down at her drink. "It's just… I've been planning on getting out of California since I was born. My whole life, my goal's been to go to the East Coast, or England or France. It's just a little hard to recondition myself to the idea that I may have to stay here."
"Yeah, but Berkeley's gotta be better than here," he reasoned. It had to be, because people like Sandy loved it there.
"Anything's better than here," she shrugged. "I just never imagined myself going to UC anything. And no, I'm not going anywhere near UCLA." He smiled as his eyes went over to all the jocks and slutty girls that were going there so they could be near the city. "Where's UC Sunnydale when you need it?"
It was weird, going home before a school hosted event ended. Usually she was the last person to leave; overseeing the cleanup, making sure everyone else got home alright. But that wasn't her responsibility anymore.
She set her keys on their appropriate hook after she locked the door to her apartment and stripped off her sweatshirt. It went back in her closet on its neat hanger; most likely to never be worn again.
She wasn't going to the Sorbonne.
She wasn't going to France.
She wasn't getting out of California.
Tonight had been one giant fake; a lie; something to make herself feel better; to make herself look better in front of everyone.
Because, even if her mom's accounts opened up, it just wasn't practical.
She could get a good education at Berkeley, she knew that. And she may even have enough to pay for the Sorbonne with all her mom's money – which Sandy was closer to unlocking, thanks to his tedious research into McMahon's personal life and previous sexual harassment charges. But without her mom's steady salary, it was just plain impractical to go spending all her savings on college tuition, housing, food, and transportation, when she could get a good education for less.
So she would go to Berkeley and invest the rest of her mom's money and once she graduated and got a steady job, she'd think about going to grad school.
Maybe then she'd finally get out of here.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and she set down her bowl of macaroni and cheese to answer it.
Ryan was still in his Berkeley sweatshirt, face unreadable as she stood aside to let him in. She didn't even ask how he'd gotten her address; she honestly didn't care.
"Hey," she greeted before going back to her kitchen to resume eating dinner.
"So this is your new place." It was a statement of bored observation and she shrugged in response.
"Pretty much. Why are you here?"
"I don't know."
She turned to face him. He looked like hell and she wasn't sure if she blamed him. She knew Marissa had gone to the bonfire with that new kid - who she honestly couldn't figure out the attraction to. It must've been hard for him to see that the entire time, especially with Seth and Summer fighting the whole night - she wasn't sure about what, but she'd seen them arguing and Summer looking really upset.
Ryan must've had a really tough night.
And now he was here.
She set down her bowl and walked into her bedroom and he followed silently.
She was such a stupid, stupid girl.
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