Santa Fe High School is a place like other high schools. It is currently holding its first high school reunion of the class of '17. Set near the anniversary of their graduation, May 25th. Here, the reunion organized by some of its former classmates is in full swing. While most of the high school remains the same. Its cafeteria has been decked out with decorations and a large banner that says, class of '17 above the stage in front of the cafeteria with plenty of snacks on nearby tables and white cloth, and relaxing music is playing in the background. It was filled with people, talking and eating with their former classmates.

It may not be much for some, but for the organizers, it is good enough. But it is here that former students reminisce about what some say were the good old days, especially the times before Covid 19. Others were happy with their place in the world and would cheerfully talk about their lives and future. But for some others, their lives after high school have been lackluster. They do not live their lives the way they want and are discontent.

But for these few, a chance to do something more with their lives will present themselves. They just need to act on it and see where it takes them.

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Should I have even come here? Wyatt thought to himself regretfully as he stood near a corner of the gym. Snack in hand and eating some chips. Wearing a normal grey T-shirt and jeans. He had talked to some of his former classmates and had some good conversations with them. But he ultimately had to lie about his current job, since what would they think if the rich kid is working as a low-level clerk at the local Sam's Club and not at some high-paying job? Probably not good, and at least his siblings are not here, or things would get bad for him.

He still remembers what his parents said to him after dropping out of the University of New Mexico. When you get your act together, we will be waiting for you and set you back on the right path. Is it really the right path for me or just another way to control my life? Wyatt bitterly thought as he chewed his chips and continued to people-watch.

Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly to try not to think about them. This is supposed to be a good time for him, but so far. He is just lying about himself and getting reminded of his current state.

Wyatt sighed, at least the food was good snack-wise, and he got to see some old friends. Most of his friends moved out of Santa Fe after high school and he kinda fell out of contact with them one by one as the years went by. It is sad, but it is just life, and right now, Wyatt is just content to eat where he was, and who knows. Maybe another old friend pops up or someone else he can talk to and get past what is your job part fast.

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Delia didn’t want to be here. Santa Fe didn’t feel like her real alma mater, she graduated from it, but most of her formative experiences were back in Los Angeles. This was just a bunch of people she barely remembered here in one place. Frankly, she would’ve skipped it to, but they had rented some A/V equipment from her dad, and he didn’t trust the joke of an organizing committee to take care of it properly or know the details of the setup, so here she was, babysitting grown adults who seemed to have trouble understanding basic concepts like reading labels and plugging cords into the correct sockets.

They didn’t need constant attention, which meant Delia had to find something else to do to kill the time. She wasn’t looking out for anyone she knew, not really having kept in touch with any of her acquaintances from high school, instead keeping her head down and focused, standing in a corner. She was fiddling with what looked like a Gameboy, but was actually a small sequencer/synthesizer, the Dirtywave M8; outside observers would judge her all the same, but it was slightly more mature than it looked. With one earbud, hidden beneath her hair, she could listen to her work but still hear the sounds of the party, though she filtered them out as best she could, preferring to focus on tweaking the timing of her breakbeats for the proper, glitched out sound.

Her stomach began to growl so she walked up to the table with the chips. She dodged between people but saw one person she recognized, Wyatt Matthews. She didn’t know much about him except that his parents were loaded, which was reason enough for her to assume he was boring and not her kind of person. Oddly enough, he was dressed a lot differently than she remembered, no crisp, preppy clothes that looked like they had just come straight off the rack for him today. Delia grabbed the chips with one hand and kept her other on her synth, but dropped a couple and got the crumbs all over the table due to the difficulty of the maneuver. She tried to do what she had learned when practicing jazz piano, just pretend it never happened and keep on going, hope people don’t notice the mess.