| ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ | ▔▔  | ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔  -- |
3 Guests
viewing this page
[IC] —OBLIVION.
- Large Group
- Superhero
- Modern
- Casual
- Slice of Life
- GM skidcrow Co-GM CaliforniaState Co-GM fledermaus
Join Status:
Full
Zeroth
GM
 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ | ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ W a y D o w n W e G o , P a r t I location: Delton Station Bistro → Ritman High interacting with: Donovan Wilkerson ◂◂ II ▸▸ Matador — The Buttertones§ |
JACK NODDED HER HEAD CONTENTEDLY TO THE RADIO, drumming her fingers against the handle of the broom as she swept. It wasn’t her usual style of music, but the dusty radio with its bent antenna miraculously got a signal where her phone couldn’t get internet (even after years of begging her dad to just buy a damned WiFi router), so she decided it was more than fair to hand it the metaphorical aux cord. She was still surprised to see it working after the state she found it in, which was even more reason to give it a chance. Besides, KCIX was one of the few decent radio stations in Maine.
Once she was satisfied with her progress on the state of the floor, Jack dumped the contents of the tall dustpan into the large metal trash can, pulling out the trash bag that had been lining it and tying it twice. Grabbing the radio and regaining her grip on the bag, she emerged into the main area of the bistro. It was just beginning to see an upkeep of traffic trickling in; commuters stopping in for a quick breakfast on their way to work and the general early birds of the town.
There were already two regulars with familiar faces sat at a table, though there was no way Jack would remember their names this early in the morning. People from businesses more local didn’t stop in until around 8:15, since they were all 10 minutes away from a job that starts at 9. Summertime meant the absence of the kids that usually bought a few snacks and a drink to hang around until school started, who usually came later in the day. Things tended to really pick up midday during the summer, with the influx of tourists and town residents who generally had more free time.
She placed the radio on the front counter and glanced at the calendar on the wall as she made her way to the back door, giving the rusty hinges a hard jolt to access the dumpsters. Tomorrow was the start of the demolition, so she assumed everyone would be arriving today. Organising a school reunion to watch as the school got torn down was pretentious in a I-listen-to-psychedelic-music-and-suck-at-life way, but Jack at least had self-awareness going for her. It was also an excuse to see how much worse or better off she was than her ex-classmates, which was a bonus. Speaking of bonuses, she was on a half shift today, so she would be able to avoid most of the midday rush and have time to chill while waiting for the ‘Ritman party’ to arrive. Not that she was going to be some kind of greeting party, she was just… intrigued by how much they might have changed.
The hours slogged by, which was about usual for the morning. A half shift was a double-edged sword more than anything—it was usually after the midday rush that she’d blink and her shift would be over—but she had the next three days booked off, too, so it kept her going. She managed to remember the names of the earlier two regulars, which was helpful. James and Grace were very generous in their tipping, on a day where tips were scarce from also balancing cooking duty. One of the chefs had called in sick, which, naturally, meant her dad had thrown an apron and hairnet at her and nodded towards the kitchen. She’d remember that one next time he asked a favour at home.
Noon finally struck, however, and she made an effort to hurry up finishing without actually rushing anyone (or, you know, being bad at customer service). The dissatisfied looks from the family she was serving told her that she had failed, but they didn’t seem the type to report it to the manager, so she didn’t find it in herself to particularly care. They got their food, didn’t they? Regardless, she offered them an awkward tight smile as she left, in some sort of lame compensation.
With orders out of the way, Jack approached the counter and all but threw the empty tray down. She glanced at the queue and then at her dad, throwing him a knowing smirk deserving of the glowering expression it received.
“Yeah, yeah, I promised you,” he grumbled. ”But I’ll remember this next time you whine at me.”
“That’s funny, ‘cause I was gonna say the exact same thing about cooking duty,” she called over her shoulder as she left, ducking through the doors as another couple of people entered to add to the queue. The outside world was a sweet relief even with the high temperatures (the coastal breeze made it more comfortable), and she quickly took the opportunity to slip her earbuds in and get a good playlist going on the way to Ritman. Her phone screen had a horrendous case of glare, but she managed to fumble her way through the interface to spam shuffle a few times, even if she nearly walked into someone who she could’ve sworn was one of her ex-classmates. She didn’t bother to verify her assumption, just flailed her free hand in apology and kept walking.
One awkward encounter with the homophobic old lady who caught her kissing her granddaughter and $2.45 at Starbucks later, Jack was stood in the shadow of the husk of her old high school. The demolition company were done removing all the plumbing and electricals, so even the taped-off ‘workers only’ zones were devoid of life until the big day tomorrow. Loudly slurping the remains of her iced tea lemonade seemed to only heighten the strange energy of the whole situation. She didn’t miss Ritman, but she’d never entertained the opportunity of it being handed off to another establishment and a whole new building being assembled in its ruins. Schools were an immortal idea more than physical constructions of brick and concrete that could erode and become useless to renovate—they were the living, breathing monuments of education. And she wasn’t having kids, so the novelty of sending her children to the same school as her was off the table. Something about it just elicited an unusual feeling.
One final, triumphant slurp of her iced tea lemonade later, Jack was hopping the flimsy cordon and planting her feet firmly on the uprooted soil of the old football field. The whole thing looked like it was used as the set for the stampede from the Lion King, with boot prints littering the ground in a zebra-like pattern and small ditches where the plumbing must’ve been dug up. Jesus, it’s not even demolished yet, she thought as she weaved between the remaining patches of grass, when something glistening on the ground caught her eye. Jack hunched down, placed the empty Starbucks cup to the side and cautiously dug at the dirt, grasping at the object the more and more it was uncovered until she finally released it from its earthy prison. She wiped it down with her bare arm, turning it over in her hands—it must’ve been the senior time capsule. She wasn’t one of the people selected to leave an item inside, but it would still be fun to crack it open.
She sat down for a moment and rested the capsule next to her, pulling out her phone and quickly scrolling through for the Facebook group she’d made with everyone. Her fingers moved rapidly as she rushed out a status.
Tucking the capsule under her arm—she didn’t mind the dirt that accumulated—and kicking the cup into the ditch, she decided it would be best to leave before she got arrested for trespassing, or whatever. She could stop home and clean the capsule off a bit more, then hang around P.J’s and wait for everyone to arrive. The closer the reunion got, the more Jack felt alcohol would be a necessary element.
Once she was satisfied with her progress on the state of the floor, Jack dumped the contents of the tall dustpan into the large metal trash can, pulling out the trash bag that had been lining it and tying it twice. Grabbing the radio and regaining her grip on the bag, she emerged into the main area of the bistro. It was just beginning to see an upkeep of traffic trickling in; commuters stopping in for a quick breakfast on their way to work and the general early birds of the town.
There were already two regulars with familiar faces sat at a table, though there was no way Jack would remember their names this early in the morning. People from businesses more local didn’t stop in until around 8:15, since they were all 10 minutes away from a job that starts at 9. Summertime meant the absence of the kids that usually bought a few snacks and a drink to hang around until school started, who usually came later in the day. Things tended to really pick up midday during the summer, with the influx of tourists and town residents who generally had more free time.
She placed the radio on the front counter and glanced at the calendar on the wall as she made her way to the back door, giving the rusty hinges a hard jolt to access the dumpsters. Tomorrow was the start of the demolition, so she assumed everyone would be arriving today. Organising a school reunion to watch as the school got torn down was pretentious in a I-listen-to-psychedelic-music-and-suck-at-life way, but Jack at least had self-awareness going for her. It was also an excuse to see how much worse or better off she was than her ex-classmates, which was a bonus. Speaking of bonuses, she was on a half shift today, so she would be able to avoid most of the midday rush and have time to chill while waiting for the ‘Ritman party’ to arrive. Not that she was going to be some kind of greeting party, she was just… intrigued by how much they might have changed.
The hours slogged by, which was about usual for the morning. A half shift was a double-edged sword more than anything—it was usually after the midday rush that she’d blink and her shift would be over—but she had the next three days booked off, too, so it kept her going. She managed to remember the names of the earlier two regulars, which was helpful. James and Grace were very generous in their tipping, on a day where tips were scarce from also balancing cooking duty. One of the chefs had called in sick, which, naturally, meant her dad had thrown an apron and hairnet at her and nodded towards the kitchen. She’d remember that one next time he asked a favour at home.
Noon finally struck, however, and she made an effort to hurry up finishing without actually rushing anyone (or, you know, being bad at customer service). The dissatisfied looks from the family she was serving told her that she had failed, but they didn’t seem the type to report it to the manager, so she didn’t find it in herself to particularly care. They got their food, didn’t they? Regardless, she offered them an awkward tight smile as she left, in some sort of lame compensation.
With orders out of the way, Jack approached the counter and all but threw the empty tray down. She glanced at the queue and then at her dad, throwing him a knowing smirk deserving of the glowering expression it received.
“Yeah, yeah, I promised you,” he grumbled. ”But I’ll remember this next time you whine at me.”
“That’s funny, ‘cause I was gonna say the exact same thing about cooking duty,” she called over her shoulder as she left, ducking through the doors as another couple of people entered to add to the queue. The outside world was a sweet relief even with the high temperatures (the coastal breeze made it more comfortable), and she quickly took the opportunity to slip her earbuds in and get a good playlist going on the way to Ritman. Her phone screen had a horrendous case of glare, but she managed to fumble her way through the interface to spam shuffle a few times, even if she nearly walked into someone who she could’ve sworn was one of her ex-classmates. She didn’t bother to verify her assumption, just flailed her free hand in apology and kept walking.
One awkward encounter with the homophobic old lady who caught her kissing her granddaughter and $2.45 at Starbucks later, Jack was stood in the shadow of the husk of her old high school. The demolition company were done removing all the plumbing and electricals, so even the taped-off ‘workers only’ zones were devoid of life until the big day tomorrow. Loudly slurping the remains of her iced tea lemonade seemed to only heighten the strange energy of the whole situation. She didn’t miss Ritman, but she’d never entertained the opportunity of it being handed off to another establishment and a whole new building being assembled in its ruins. Schools were an immortal idea more than physical constructions of brick and concrete that could erode and become useless to renovate—they were the living, breathing monuments of education. And she wasn’t having kids, so the novelty of sending her children to the same school as her was off the table. Something about it just elicited an unusual feeling.
One final, triumphant slurp of her iced tea lemonade later, Jack was hopping the flimsy cordon and planting her feet firmly on the uprooted soil of the old football field. The whole thing looked like it was used as the set for the stampede from the Lion King, with boot prints littering the ground in a zebra-like pattern and small ditches where the plumbing must’ve been dug up. Jesus, it’s not even demolished yet, she thought as she weaved between the remaining patches of grass, when something glistening on the ground caught her eye. Jack hunched down, placed the empty Starbucks cup to the side and cautiously dug at the dirt, grasping at the object the more and more it was uncovered until she finally released it from its earthy prison. She wiped it down with her bare arm, turning it over in her hands—it must’ve been the senior time capsule. She wasn’t one of the people selected to leave an item inside, but it would still be fun to crack it open.
She sat down for a moment and rested the capsule next to her, pulling out her phone and quickly scrolling through for the Facebook group she’d made with everyone. Her fingers moved rapidly as she rushed out a status.
Found the senior capsule. Don’t know which of you were in the little clubs but we can crack it open on the field near P.J’s after everyone has gotten here
Tucking the capsule under her arm—she didn’t mind the dirt that accumulated—and kicking the cup into the ditch, she decided it would be best to leave before she got arrested for trespassing, or whatever. She could stop home and clean the capsule off a bit more, then hang around P.J’s and wait for everyone to arrive. The closer the reunion got, the more Jack felt alcohol would be a necessary element.
coGM
CaliforniaState Biologist
Member
Seen
12 hrs ago
 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ | ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ W a y D o w n W e G o , P a r t I location: MIT, Linguistic Department → P.J's Brewpub interacting with: Jack Wilkerson, @hawkins ◂◂ II ▸▸ Roundabout — Yes§ |
There was no feeling quite like it, the sensation of running a finger down the hard-covered spine of a well-kept book. The weight of the pages carefully bound together to create one singular masterpiece. And then of course was the pièce de résistance, the intoxicating smell of old books and pages. The chemical compounds breaking down over time to elicit the savory and succulent aroma of vanilla flowers and almonds. It almost always sent a shiver down Meir’s spine before giving his skin a layer of goosebumps to match. His office was rather stacked in terms of how much space was occupied by shelves and cases lined with books, it was enough to rival a small library. One supposes this would be the kind of achievement and prize awarded to one of the most astute professors in their designated fields, just not this many.
Regardless of whether or not he could go home after his lectures and office hours, Meir chose to stay on campus. It’s not like he had a wife waiting at home nor kids, a dog, any of that in all actuality. Without much responsibilities in the way, he took his work home with him or rather work became his home. Planting himself in his favorite chair he set his book down and peeled the front page open, exposing the title of the current work directly in view, it was titled Ozymandias. The sonnet from 1818 was one of his favorites, 14 lines filled with wonderful allegories and imagery that left for several interpretations depending on the reader. Meir empathized with the broken statue, a once great leader left to history and buried in the sands of time with no one to notice. The crisp sound of the page flipping was music to his ears as he pressed on.
His attempt to flip the page was cancelled out by the sudden vibration of his phone in his pocket. Putting his book on pause he tugged on a red ribbon and tucked it within the crease of page and closed it gently. It was probably one of his students asking for extra credit or creating some kind of somber and poignant story on why they were unable to hand in their assignment on time. Preparing himself for his next sob story he was astonished to see it was neither a colleague nor a student, but instead a Facebook group invitation. Now what they said was true, Facebook IS for old people, but that didn’t mean that 24 was old. Instead he just used it for the messenger app to speak with friends and keep up to date on family matters. Perhaps a mistake? Intrigued he pressed on to find that it was from one of his ex-classmates, Jack Wilkerson.
”Jack Wilkerson, Jack Wilkerson” he said in pensive thought, trying to match the face to the name. ”Stupid, just click on her profile picture” quickly realizing his folly. Once the picture loaded, his expression shifted into nostalgia. Jack Wilkerson! The girl who barely made it to graduation after being on the edge of having missed to many days of school. And the girl who accidentally hit him in the head with an improvised weapon made from paper clips and elastic bands. The memory surged through his head creating a burning sensation in the spot of his forehead she managed to snipe. So why did she reach out to him of all people? He was no one, a shadow, a nerd. Meir had tutored her to ensure that she did pass her classes despite her lackluster attitude to learn. Plus, Jack was always a social butterfly and one to rotate between every social group imaginable.
Meir would have been lying if the idea of a reunion of corralled ex-classmates wasn’t enticing to him. While he had nothing of show or importance in high school besides his grades, he had plenty to showcase now. What would he show off first? His superhuman physique he cultivated all these years to near perfection? Maybe introduce himself as Dr. Maggid without coming off as pretentious. However, the thoughts of bragging about his accomplishments were quickly diminished when he read that their old high school was sentenced for decommission. His heart sank in his chest, the thought of losing all the memories (both pleasant and not so pleasant) struck something deep within him. Imagining the thought of losing his own institution that he called home drove the point even more. Even if his classmates didn’t show up, he knew he would. Who knows, maybe the school would allow their former valedictorian to collect any books they were unable to donate.
His thumbs raced all across his keyboard, managing to scrawl a semi-professional email detailing his acceptance to the event he knew would go over jack’s head, at this point it was just second nature. Setting his phone down he reclined back into his chair letting out a deep sigh before closing his eyes, ”Nothing beside remains. Round the decay.”
When his eyes opened it was a week later and finally the big day, the end of Ritman High. Meir had spent the day finishing up his recitations and lectures, ensuring all of his students had a fair amount of work to be done while he was away on personal time. This was probably a godsend to the students, no teacher meant they could fuck off and worry about the deadline the night of. With everything done and out of the way Meir packed his things and took one last look at his room before flicking the light switch off and heading out into his car. A sudden sensation of uneasiness accumulated in the pits of his stomach. Was he nervous to go back? To see everyone who looked at him funny? Who else would Jack have contacted and who was going to show up? Meir did his best to shake his thoughts and focus on the road ahead, anything else he could handle when they came up.
Meir fingered the volume dial on his radio, blasting his music while his leg pressed hard on the gas letting out a vicious roar of his engine. Another notification popped on his screen, again from Jack, only this time it wasn’t a cancellation but instead something else. ”So she found the time capsule. Man, I don’t even remember what I put in there besides my yearbook…that no one signed…except for Mrs. Brady” his mind clung to that thought and drifted off into a daydream. A few hours and two or three gas stops later, his car was seen turning the corner into the lot of P.J.’s. The engine and lights switched of, Meir stepped out breathing in the fresh Maine air stretching out his arms. The more things changed the more they stayed same it appeared. Literally everything was the exact same just as he had last left it.
Meir took out his phone to let Jack know that he arrived, noticing that he was the first and only one to do so. Without waiting for a reply Meir walked in and looked around hoping to find a girl who looked like she didn’t give a shit. Low and behold there was non other than Jack sitting by herself besides a dirt encrusted capsule. Years of presenting in front of a classroom had prepared him for this, the same sweaty palmed nerdy boy wasn’t the same person that sat down next to Jack. “So, what you drinking?” he asked whilst getting the attention of the bartender, “Harvey Wallbanger for me and another round of whatever for her on me.”
Regardless of whether or not he could go home after his lectures and office hours, Meir chose to stay on campus. It’s not like he had a wife waiting at home nor kids, a dog, any of that in all actuality. Without much responsibilities in the way, he took his work home with him or rather work became his home. Planting himself in his favorite chair he set his book down and peeled the front page open, exposing the title of the current work directly in view, it was titled Ozymandias. The sonnet from 1818 was one of his favorites, 14 lines filled with wonderful allegories and imagery that left for several interpretations depending on the reader. Meir empathized with the broken statue, a once great leader left to history and buried in the sands of time with no one to notice. The crisp sound of the page flipping was music to his ears as he pressed on.
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
His attempt to flip the page was cancelled out by the sudden vibration of his phone in his pocket. Putting his book on pause he tugged on a red ribbon and tucked it within the crease of page and closed it gently. It was probably one of his students asking for extra credit or creating some kind of somber and poignant story on why they were unable to hand in their assignment on time. Preparing himself for his next sob story he was astonished to see it was neither a colleague nor a student, but instead a Facebook group invitation. Now what they said was true, Facebook IS for old people, but that didn’t mean that 24 was old. Instead he just used it for the messenger app to speak with friends and keep up to date on family matters. Perhaps a mistake? Intrigued he pressed on to find that it was from one of his ex-classmates, Jack Wilkerson.
”Jack Wilkerson, Jack Wilkerson” he said in pensive thought, trying to match the face to the name. ”Stupid, just click on her profile picture” quickly realizing his folly. Once the picture loaded, his expression shifted into nostalgia. Jack Wilkerson! The girl who barely made it to graduation after being on the edge of having missed to many days of school. And the girl who accidentally hit him in the head with an improvised weapon made from paper clips and elastic bands. The memory surged through his head creating a burning sensation in the spot of his forehead she managed to snipe. So why did she reach out to him of all people? He was no one, a shadow, a nerd. Meir had tutored her to ensure that she did pass her classes despite her lackluster attitude to learn. Plus, Jack was always a social butterfly and one to rotate between every social group imaginable.
Meir would have been lying if the idea of a reunion of corralled ex-classmates wasn’t enticing to him. While he had nothing of show or importance in high school besides his grades, he had plenty to showcase now. What would he show off first? His superhuman physique he cultivated all these years to near perfection? Maybe introduce himself as Dr. Maggid without coming off as pretentious. However, the thoughts of bragging about his accomplishments were quickly diminished when he read that their old high school was sentenced for decommission. His heart sank in his chest, the thought of losing all the memories (both pleasant and not so pleasant) struck something deep within him. Imagining the thought of losing his own institution that he called home drove the point even more. Even if his classmates didn’t show up, he knew he would. Who knows, maybe the school would allow their former valedictorian to collect any books they were unable to donate.
His thumbs raced all across his keyboard, managing to scrawl a semi-professional email detailing his acceptance to the event he knew would go over jack’s head, at this point it was just second nature. Setting his phone down he reclined back into his chair letting out a deep sigh before closing his eyes, ”Nothing beside remains. Round the decay.”
When his eyes opened it was a week later and finally the big day, the end of Ritman High. Meir had spent the day finishing up his recitations and lectures, ensuring all of his students had a fair amount of work to be done while he was away on personal time. This was probably a godsend to the students, no teacher meant they could fuck off and worry about the deadline the night of. With everything done and out of the way Meir packed his things and took one last look at his room before flicking the light switch off and heading out into his car. A sudden sensation of uneasiness accumulated in the pits of his stomach. Was he nervous to go back? To see everyone who looked at him funny? Who else would Jack have contacted and who was going to show up? Meir did his best to shake his thoughts and focus on the road ahead, anything else he could handle when they came up.
Meir fingered the volume dial on his radio, blasting his music while his leg pressed hard on the gas letting out a vicious roar of his engine. Another notification popped on his screen, again from Jack, only this time it wasn’t a cancellation but instead something else. ”So she found the time capsule. Man, I don’t even remember what I put in there besides my yearbook…that no one signed…except for Mrs. Brady” his mind clung to that thought and drifted off into a daydream. A few hours and two or three gas stops later, his car was seen turning the corner into the lot of P.J.’s. The engine and lights switched of, Meir stepped out breathing in the fresh Maine air stretching out his arms. The more things changed the more they stayed same it appeared. Literally everything was the exact same just as he had last left it.
Meir took out his phone to let Jack know that he arrived, noticing that he was the first and only one to do so. Without waiting for a reply Meir walked in and looked around hoping to find a girl who looked like she didn’t give a shit. Low and behold there was non other than Jack sitting by herself besides a dirt encrusted capsule. Years of presenting in front of a classroom had prepared him for this, the same sweaty palmed nerdy boy wasn’t the same person that sat down next to Jack. “So, what you drinking?” he asked whilst getting the attention of the bartender, “Harvey Wallbanger for me and another round of whatever for her on me.”
1x Like
banjoanjo Still likes pistachios
Member
Seen
18 days ago
 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ | ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ W a y D o w n W e G o , P a r t I location: Zhou Residence → P. Johnson's interacting with: Zhou Xiaoli → Jack Wilkerson ◂◂ II ▸▸ People Watching — Jack Johnson§ |
She found the time capsule, Sara noted absently.
Another Monday night, scrolling through her news feed as the TV blared on in the background, ignored. The reunion was actually happening, huh? Honestly, she thought that Jack was half-bullshitting when she brought up the idea, or that it'd be one of those plans where no one's really organised or committed so it all awkwardly falls apart. But people were actually responding. And the time capsule was brought up. Geez. She didn't want to want it, not in the slightest. And yet...
Sara frowned. It wasn't something to think about now. Tempting for sure, but she already had her closure. Thanks but no thanks, Jack.
A rattling from the hallway made her lean over the couch. Her mother was still getting ready.
"<<Are those the nice earrings, mama?>>"
Zhou Xiaoli paused, lowering the silver pair.
"<<Ai, I knew they were too much.>>"
"No. No no, wear them!"
"<<I'm trying too hard.>>"
"First of all, no. He won't even notice! I had to ring him up once and he tried swiping his bus card for a solid minute. Plus, you want its good luck. That third date won't reel itself in, ma."
"<<Hmm.>>"
The older woman clipped the earrings back on. She gave a little twirl before Sara, her modest dress waving with the motion. The daughter responded with a thumbs up.
"Spot on."
Xiaoli chuckled and came over to press a kiss to Sara's temple.
"<<What time are you leaving?>>"
Sara squinted. "<<Ma, what?">>"
"<<Tonight. Isn't there something with your high school?>>"
Ah.
"<<Dunno,>>" she lied, "I don't really talk with them."
Sara pointedly returned her attention to her phone, not seeing her mother raise an eyebrow. "<<I heard Jessie Bennett's son is back in town for a few days.>>"
Crap. "Uh-huh."
"<<Melissa's girl too. And Krishni, Mrs Larsen, Aaron Percy...>>"
"Boy, that's a lotta people."
"<<I think there's a gathering of some sort. Imagine that. All these people coming together, reconnecting, smiling, while my dear daughter sits alone at home, again, re-watching Friends.>>"
Sara narrowed her eyes. Fidgeted. "It's The Good Place."
"<<Watching The Good Place.>>"
A tense standoff from the couch to the hallway. Sara wasn't even antisocial by any measure of the word but her mother always acted like she knew something her daughter didn't. It was such a pain. And with the kind of people that were attending tonight, if she didn't go too her mother would rag on about it for weeks.
"Oh, would you look at that. I just remembered," Sara conceded through a grit smile. Xiaoli waited eagerly. Sara suppressed a grumble and slipped her phone into her pocket for good. Damn gossippy neighbors. "There's a class reunion tonight. I won't be here."
"<<Oh, how wonderful.>>"
With that, she headed out for her date, leaving Sara still scowling on the couch.
Urgh. She was gonna need her own damn lucky earrings for this.
Another Monday night, scrolling through her news feed as the TV blared on in the background, ignored. The reunion was actually happening, huh? Honestly, she thought that Jack was half-bullshitting when she brought up the idea, or that it'd be one of those plans where no one's really organised or committed so it all awkwardly falls apart. But people were actually responding. And the time capsule was brought up. Geez. She didn't want to want it, not in the slightest. And yet...
Sara frowned. It wasn't something to think about now. Tempting for sure, but she already had her closure. Thanks but no thanks, Jack.
A rattling from the hallway made her lean over the couch. Her mother was still getting ready.
"<<Are those the nice earrings, mama?>>"
Zhou Xiaoli paused, lowering the silver pair.
"<<Ai, I knew they were too much.>>"
"No. No no, wear them!"
"<<I'm trying too hard.>>"
"First of all, no. He won't even notice! I had to ring him up once and he tried swiping his bus card for a solid minute. Plus, you want its good luck. That third date won't reel itself in, ma."
"<<Hmm.>>"
The older woman clipped the earrings back on. She gave a little twirl before Sara, her modest dress waving with the motion. The daughter responded with a thumbs up.
"Spot on."
Xiaoli chuckled and came over to press a kiss to Sara's temple.
"<<What time are you leaving?>>"
Sara squinted. "<<Ma, what?">>"
"<<Tonight. Isn't there something with your high school?>>"
Ah.
"<<Dunno,>>" she lied, "I don't really talk with them."
Sara pointedly returned her attention to her phone, not seeing her mother raise an eyebrow. "<<I heard Jessie Bennett's son is back in town for a few days.>>"
Crap. "Uh-huh."
"<<Melissa's girl too. And Krishni, Mrs Larsen, Aaron Percy...>>"
"Boy, that's a lotta people."
"<<I think there's a gathering of some sort. Imagine that. All these people coming together, reconnecting, smiling, while my dear daughter sits alone at home, again, re-watching Friends.>>"
Sara narrowed her eyes. Fidgeted. "It's The Good Place."
"<<Watching The Good Place.>>"
A tense standoff from the couch to the hallway. Sara wasn't even antisocial by any measure of the word but her mother always acted like she knew something her daughter didn't. It was such a pain. And with the kind of people that were attending tonight, if she didn't go too her mother would rag on about it for weeks.
"Oh, would you look at that. I just remembered," Sara conceded through a grit smile. Xiaoli waited eagerly. Sara suppressed a grumble and slipped her phone into her pocket for good. Damn gossippy neighbors. "There's a class reunion tonight. I won't be here."
"<<Oh, how wonderful.>>"
With that, she headed out for her date, leaving Sara still scowling on the couch.
Urgh. She was gonna need her own damn lucky earrings for this.
P.J's was a bold choice, considering the establishment's whole identity/theme. Considering Jack and her weird insistence on hiding the specifics of her romantic life. Considering the absolute blockheads they attended high school with, and all their baseless jeers and dumb jokes. Maybe the other girl never knew what homophobic idiots they were, what with her constant skipping. Hard to measure the dickbaggery of your classmates if you never even show up.
Sara peered through the window, sneaking a peek. Sebastian at the bar, Jack too, some Adonis-looking guy she couldn't get a good view of. From the football team, perhaps? Not a stellar attendance so far. Didn't know if it was because it was still early but there was a decent lack of familiar faces in the bar for the moment. No assholes for sure. Sara breathed a relieved sigh.
Hm. Maybe Jack did know, and organizing the get-together at P.J's was some lesbian - no, pardon, 100% straight girl - power move. Props to her.
Honestly, even without the less desirable people from her high school years, this was going to be a chore. Sara only had one target. Everyone else there would just delay her from getting to it. As harsh as it was, Sara had no interest in the others. They'd just go back to their lives after the demolition and she'd still be here, in Delton. There was no use for these connections.
Since there was no way to remain outside the bar without looking like some kid whose friends ditched her at the mall, she headed in. Sara didn't make any move to sit, instead just placing her hands on the capsule to examine it.
"So, how many people we waiting on before we can pop this thing open?"
2x Like
GM
| ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ | ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ W a y D o w n W e G o , P a r t I location: P. Johnson's interacting with: Meir (@Severance), Sebastian (@Lionhearted), Sara (@banjoanjo) |
THE SURREALITY OF THE SITUATION WAS KICKING IN, and with the new arrival’s—oh shit, that was Meir—help, the alcohol would be kicking in, too. She glanced between him and Sebastian with a slight quirked eyebrow, certain in her memory of the two having some kind of history. Her getting to know Sebastian was a few years after Ritman, when she finally got the confidence to go drinking at P.J’s, and identified him as ‘that beefy German kid’ in a moment of drunken stupor. Since then, their interactions were either when she was really drunk, or about to get really drunk. She’d probably said a bunch of things to him she couldn’t remember, but he didn’t mention it, so she figured it was harmless. Jack was generally confiding in him with the whole getting shit-faced thing, anyway, since she wasn’t too keen on people getting drunk and was embarrassed she did it herself (today would be one of her cheat days; she wasn’t going to be the sober loser at the party). She wasn’t an alcoholic, she just needed a break away from monotony. It seemed to be the driving force behind most of her recent decisions.
Meir was mercifully relaxed and easygoing, and Jack released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Whatever he’d done after Ritman, be it in self-loathing of having a target on your back or not, it really paid off for him. He seemed happy enough, healthy enough and successful enough, if his 6-page essay RSVP was anything to go by. When she first got his lengthy response she didn’t know at first if he’d mistaken her for an employer or something, or sent a resumé to the wrong person. There was no doubt some people would probably be surprised by her inviting the quiet nerd of Ritman in the first place, but not even she was aloof enough to withhold the fact that his tutoring was what got her through most of her classes. She considered herself about average intelligence—certainly not stupid, and definitely smarter than the tourist bozos who came by the Bistro—but a school environment just wasn’t for her. Now that she wouldn’t admit, fuck no.
In the end, she figured inviting Meir would be the returning of a favour, in some weird, I’m-in-no-position-in-life-to-be-doing-anything-substantial-as-a-favour way. She could see the freedom graduation had given him just from a quick look at any of his social media, and she knew she’d certainly want everyone to know about it, if it were her success. Did she selfishly pity him? Yeah, maybe. But she’d probably caused him permanent forehead trauma with her improvised mace, anyway.
The collision of nostalgia with the present day was inevitably brought to a halt by the sweet release of free drinks. Her wallet could stay untouched and she could still get the social lubricant she’d need for the day ahead. Afternoon drinking, sure, but fuck it, not like she was the only one.
“Now that things are picking up, I’m thinking a cocktail,” Jack responded to his initial question, turning to Sebastian. “I’ll have the cucumber gin, thanks.” She decided she might as well splurge if it was someone else paying. Meir was nice enough to not care, or probably not notice that she was stretching the budget of acceptable. Acceptable for her, at least, though she wasn’t someone particularly inclined to just directly buying stuff for others. She’d given people money over the years but that was the closest example she could think of.
Jack’s attention was snatched firmly away from her sweet freebie as a pair of hands began pawing all over the capsule— put that thing back where it came from or so help me— oh shit, it’s Sara. Now there was a surprise. Even though she still lived in Delton, Sara was the last person Jack expected to show up. She’d invited her, of course, out of both common courtesy and a memory that she was decidedly not-lame, but if there wasn’t something to be organised, Sara never seemed interested in any type of event or gathering. She wondered if there was some kind of gun-to-head reason for her attendance, but decided not to prod any further. Jack preferred not to irritate people who looked like they were staring straight through her exterior and flipping through every page of her life story; reading her like a book.
“There’s, like—” she squinted and tilted her head almost comically as she thought, “—three more people? I’m not saying who, though.”
Standing up, she gave Sara a half-encouraging (rather, half-assed) nod towards her now-vacant seat. “But! I need a piss. So tell everyone I say hi. And take care of the capsule. And my drink, which I owe to Mr Rich over here.” She patted Meir on the back as she made her way to the restroom.
Meir was mercifully relaxed and easygoing, and Jack released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Whatever he’d done after Ritman, be it in self-loathing of having a target on your back or not, it really paid off for him. He seemed happy enough, healthy enough and successful enough, if his 6-page essay RSVP was anything to go by. When she first got his lengthy response she didn’t know at first if he’d mistaken her for an employer or something, or sent a resumé to the wrong person. There was no doubt some people would probably be surprised by her inviting the quiet nerd of Ritman in the first place, but not even she was aloof enough to withhold the fact that his tutoring was what got her through most of her classes. She considered herself about average intelligence—certainly not stupid, and definitely smarter than the tourist bozos who came by the Bistro—but a school environment just wasn’t for her. Now that she wouldn’t admit, fuck no.
In the end, she figured inviting Meir would be the returning of a favour, in some weird, I’m-in-no-position-in-life-to-be-doing-anything-substantial-as-a-favour way. She could see the freedom graduation had given him just from a quick look at any of his social media, and she knew she’d certainly want everyone to know about it, if it were her success. Did she selfishly pity him? Yeah, maybe. But she’d probably caused him permanent forehead trauma with her improvised mace, anyway.
The collision of nostalgia with the present day was inevitably brought to a halt by the sweet release of free drinks. Her wallet could stay untouched and she could still get the social lubricant she’d need for the day ahead. Afternoon drinking, sure, but fuck it, not like she was the only one.
“Now that things are picking up, I’m thinking a cocktail,” Jack responded to his initial question, turning to Sebastian. “I’ll have the cucumber gin, thanks.” She decided she might as well splurge if it was someone else paying. Meir was nice enough to not care, or probably not notice that she was stretching the budget of acceptable. Acceptable for her, at least, though she wasn’t someone particularly inclined to just directly buying stuff for others. She’d given people money over the years but that was the closest example she could think of.
Jack’s attention was snatched firmly away from her sweet freebie as a pair of hands began pawing all over the capsule— put that thing back where it came from or so help me— oh shit, it’s Sara. Now there was a surprise. Even though she still lived in Delton, Sara was the last person Jack expected to show up. She’d invited her, of course, out of both common courtesy and a memory that she was decidedly not-lame, but if there wasn’t something to be organised, Sara never seemed interested in any type of event or gathering. She wondered if there was some kind of gun-to-head reason for her attendance, but decided not to prod any further. Jack preferred not to irritate people who looked like they were staring straight through her exterior and flipping through every page of her life story; reading her like a book.
“There’s, like—” she squinted and tilted her head almost comically as she thought, “—three more people? I’m not saying who, though.”
Standing up, she gave Sara a half-encouraging (rather, half-assed) nod towards her now-vacant seat. “But! I need a piss. So tell everyone I say hi. And take care of the capsule. And my drink, which I owe to Mr Rich over here.” She patted Meir on the back as she made her way to the restroom.
2x Like
Mao Mao Sheriff of Pure Hearts (They/Them)
Member
Seen
0-24 hrs ago
 | ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ W a y D o w n W e G o , P a r t I location: Crystal Hill Station → Europa Inn & Suites → P. Johnson's interacting with: Kayleigh Hawkins ◂◂ II ▸▸ Breathe — Catie Turner |
Why did I decide to come back? Lucas asked himself after he saw the 'Welcome to Delton' sign surrounded by rocks and some colorful flowers. He looked away from the bus window and tried to suppress the memories of his departure. The music playing in the background helped a little but didn't thoroughly crush it. It got worse once the bus stopped at the Crystal Hill Station, the bus station on the edge of town. He started to remember that painful day. But instead of confronting it, Lucas began to walk towards the inn rather than wait for a ride. It was bittersweet to be back home. That was when he started to wonder about his parents and siblings. Where were they? Are they still living in town? Have they changed in the years Lucas has been absent? However, he already knew the answers.
After walking for ten minutes, Lucas finally arrived at the Europa Inn & Suites. It wasn't the best hotel in town, but it had decent reviews. No one or two stars on review sites. Just mostly three and even four stars. Also, it was cheaper than the premium hotels. He approached the receptionist about the reservation and got a keycard. Then, he headed towards his room on the second and immediately collapsed onto the bed. The original plan was to take a quick nap before tonight's event. However, he heard stomach growling and knew that he needed to eat something good. With help from his phone, Lucas began searching familiar-sounding places that he often went to eat. For the most part, they still reminded opened.
That was when he saw that P. Johnson's didn't shut down. Lucas always liked their breadsticks and their "secret sauce" (it was just a copy of another restaurant's sauce with extra ingredients). There were more options, but he didn't want to overeat. So with the breadsticks in mind, Lucas got up from the bed and left the hotel. Because the restaurant was only a few minutes away, he decided to walk instead of getting a ride. It was around this time that he thought about the other students. How many of them were still here? How many are planning to attend the reunion? He was deep in thought that nearly caused him to walk past P. Johnson's. The parking lot was filled with cars, but that didn't matter to Lucas.
Once inside, Lucas got in the long line and waited for his turn to order. At that moment, someone stared at him as if they were trying to recognize him. Lucas didn't know because he was on his phone, waiting. It wasn't until that someone got his attention with a simple question. "Are you Natalie's brother?"
Lucas hesitated to answer because he didn't know how she would have responded. But, he took a deep breath and slowly answered.
"Yeah, I am..."
Upon a closer look at the person, Lucas immediately realized that he was talking to one of Natalie's close friends, Kayleigh Hawkins. In high school, she was the treasurer for the student council and well-liked by everyone. Natalie hung out with her whenever possible until both of them graduated. She got accepted to a nearby college while Kayleigh was admitted to UCLA. She moved across the country shortly after getting the acceptance letter. Now, she was back for the reunion.
"Wow, life's been treating you good." Kayleigh said happily, referring to his overall appearance compared to his high school years. "I can't believe that it has been years since I last saw you. How are you?"
"I have been doing well. Boston has been treating me well enough. Got a decent place and a stable job. How about you?" Lucas said with a faint smile.
"I am nearly there to getting my degree in economics. Hopefully, I get work as a market research analyst for some company in the area." Kayleigh answered and saw that she was next to retrieve her order. She then realized something and turned to Lucas in an instant. "By the way, when's Natalie coming to town? It has been a while since we last talked."
Lucas looked down to the ground at the mention of his sister. Honestly, he didn't know if she was coming or not to the reunion. In fact, the last time that he saw her was on the night of his departure for this town. He sighed and said quietly, "I don't know. It has been a few years since we last talked. Sorry."
"Wait, I thought that Natalie was living with you?" Kayleigh asked confusedly.
"No..? Who told you that?
"Natalie." Kayleigh answered while heading towards the nearest table with her snacks. Lucas followed her and listened to her. According to her, Natalie explained that she was staying over at her brother's place in Boston. But that was a lie. Lucas asked what his sister said about him. Kayleigh said that she didn't mention him other than giving a reason why he left Delton. She said that he went to Boston to visit relatives. The reveal that she was lying about his departure left Lucas disappointed and upset. He looked down at the table and thanked her for telling him.
"No problem." Kayleigh responded while she finished up her snack. "If I see her, I will talk to her about it. Can I get your number so I can tell you what she says?"
"Of course." Lucas answered and pulled out his phone. He gave her his number, and the two of them talked for a bit longer. She brought up that somebody found the senior capsule and they were planning on opening it up here. Lucas didn't know about it until now since he deleted his social media accounts after leaving for Boston. But it was a coincidence that the event was taking place here. The two of them talked for a few more minutes until her phone rang again. She rolled her eyes and got up from the seat.
"Oh god. I forgot to get dinner for my brothers. It was nice talking to you. I will text you later on." Kayleigh walked out of the bar, leaving Lucas to be alone. He took a moment to hide all of his emotions. The music playing in the background helped a little. Then, a waiter brought him his order and some water. Lucas slowly started to eat his breadsticks while feeling anxious. Being in Delton was supposed to be a good thing for his health according to his friends and therapist. However, at this moment, he regretted listening to them.
After walking for ten minutes, Lucas finally arrived at the Europa Inn & Suites. It wasn't the best hotel in town, but it had decent reviews. No one or two stars on review sites. Just mostly three and even four stars. Also, it was cheaper than the premium hotels. He approached the receptionist about the reservation and got a keycard. Then, he headed towards his room on the second and immediately collapsed onto the bed. The original plan was to take a quick nap before tonight's event. However, he heard stomach growling and knew that he needed to eat something good. With help from his phone, Lucas began searching familiar-sounding places that he often went to eat. For the most part, they still reminded opened.
That was when he saw that P. Johnson's didn't shut down. Lucas always liked their breadsticks and their "secret sauce" (it was just a copy of another restaurant's sauce with extra ingredients). There were more options, but he didn't want to overeat. So with the breadsticks in mind, Lucas got up from the bed and left the hotel. Because the restaurant was only a few minutes away, he decided to walk instead of getting a ride. It was around this time that he thought about the other students. How many of them were still here? How many are planning to attend the reunion? He was deep in thought that nearly caused him to walk past P. Johnson's. The parking lot was filled with cars, but that didn't matter to Lucas.
Once inside, Lucas got in the long line and waited for his turn to order. At that moment, someone stared at him as if they were trying to recognize him. Lucas didn't know because he was on his phone, waiting. It wasn't until that someone got his attention with a simple question. "Are you Natalie's brother?"
Lucas hesitated to answer because he didn't know how she would have responded. But, he took a deep breath and slowly answered.
"Yeah, I am..."
Upon a closer look at the person, Lucas immediately realized that he was talking to one of Natalie's close friends, Kayleigh Hawkins. In high school, she was the treasurer for the student council and well-liked by everyone. Natalie hung out with her whenever possible until both of them graduated. She got accepted to a nearby college while Kayleigh was admitted to UCLA. She moved across the country shortly after getting the acceptance letter. Now, she was back for the reunion.
"Wow, life's been treating you good." Kayleigh said happily, referring to his overall appearance compared to his high school years. "I can't believe that it has been years since I last saw you. How are you?"
"I have been doing well. Boston has been treating me well enough. Got a decent place and a stable job. How about you?" Lucas said with a faint smile.
"I am nearly there to getting my degree in economics. Hopefully, I get work as a market research analyst for some company in the area." Kayleigh answered and saw that she was next to retrieve her order. She then realized something and turned to Lucas in an instant. "By the way, when's Natalie coming to town? It has been a while since we last talked."
Lucas looked down to the ground at the mention of his sister. Honestly, he didn't know if she was coming or not to the reunion. In fact, the last time that he saw her was on the night of his departure for this town. He sighed and said quietly, "I don't know. It has been a few years since we last talked. Sorry."
"Wait, I thought that Natalie was living with you?" Kayleigh asked confusedly.
"No..? Who told you that?
"Natalie." Kayleigh answered while heading towards the nearest table with her snacks. Lucas followed her and listened to her. According to her, Natalie explained that she was staying over at her brother's place in Boston. But that was a lie. Lucas asked what his sister said about him. Kayleigh said that she didn't mention him other than giving a reason why he left Delton. She said that he went to Boston to visit relatives. The reveal that she was lying about his departure left Lucas disappointed and upset. He looked down at the table and thanked her for telling him.
"No problem." Kayleigh responded while she finished up her snack. "If I see her, I will talk to her about it. Can I get your number so I can tell you what she says?"
"Of course." Lucas answered and pulled out his phone. He gave her his number, and the two of them talked for a bit longer. She brought up that somebody found the senior capsule and they were planning on opening it up here. Lucas didn't know about it until now since he deleted his social media accounts after leaving for Boston. But it was a coincidence that the event was taking place here. The two of them talked for a few more minutes until her phone rang again. She rolled her eyes and got up from the seat.
"Oh god. I forgot to get dinner for my brothers. It was nice talking to you. I will text you later on." Kayleigh walked out of the bar, leaving Lucas to be alone. He took a moment to hide all of his emotions. The music playing in the background helped a little. Then, a waiter brought him his order and some water. Lucas slowly started to eat his breadsticks while feeling anxious. Being in Delton was supposed to be a good thing for his health according to his friends and therapist. However, at this moment, he regretted listening to them.
1x Like
Eleven things are strange
Member
Seen
2 mos ago
 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ | ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ W a y D o w n W e G o , P a r t I location: Ocean's Edge Hotel → P. Johnson's interacting with: Sebastian (@Lionhearted), Sara (@banjoanjo), Meir (@Severance) ◂◂ II ▸▸ I'm Coming Home Today — The Dig§ |
From the balcony of her hotel room, Freya could see the horizon stretching into a blinding foreverness. The morning breeze lapped at her skin and tousled her hair, leaving in its wake the briny smell of the sea and vague memories of late night bonfires, lots of beer, and partying. Besides the rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore and the occasional bird cawing as it swooped into the sands for crumbs, there was a blanket of silence that enveloped the hotel. It was calming, almost enough to offset the stress piling up at the thought of the day's activities. But not quite, she thought as she looked at her phone.
Five missed calls from mom. One email from her client, one from her boss. A facebook post from Jack.
Freya took a sip of her silver needle tea and glanced at the notifications that greeted her, already drafting responses in her head. Her mom would be saved for last – although never would be more ideal. She had learned the hard way that dealing with her mother so early in the day only led to a migraine that would need nursing until sunset. It was the last thing she needed.
Work, on the other hand, was easy. Freya replied to her client, a couple with a newly opened boutique looking to establish their brand and develop their online presence, without having to spare much effort. They were sweet in that uniquely Delton way that practically drenched her in a wave of nostalgia when she first met with them. It was something she hadn't realized she missed after living in brusque New York City for so long. Their email, filled with gushing commendations and multiple proclamations of wanting to work with her again, was essentially an informal 5-star review.
To her boss, she'd simply emailed, "Done. Rescheduled this week's brainstorming session and everything else I had for when I get back."
Her phone buzzed with three more messages from mommy dearest just as the email sent, the paranoia lacing her texts impossibly palpable. Freya had been careful not to mention her week-long "business trip" to her former hometown, fully aware that her mom would yet again blow things out of proportion. Delton continued to be a sore spot for her mom; apparently so deeply damaging to her psyche that she would sooner give up half her estates than set foot back there. After they left so suddenly all those years ago, they never spoke about Ritman or Delton or anyone from there. Not about her friends, their neighbors. Not even about her father, still locked away in prison somewhere.
That it remained such a mystery to her was what compelled her to finally return… well, that and the quiet, nagging regret that still lingered in the corner of her mind, of course. When she heard they had someone signing all the way from Maine, she immediately volunteered and passed up her usual high-profile clientele. It was the justification she needed; one she couldn't back out from if she happened to get cold feet, as she had many times before.
Freya took another sip of her tea, a long centering breath, then swiped up and away from the messages. No dealing with mom today.
"Can't wait to see what's inside ;)" she replied to Jack instead. Her little reunion had been a happy coincidence – kismet, the silly, quixotic part of her would whisper, as though the fates or god or whatever higher being is up there actually cared enough about her feelings to orchestrate all these events to coincide.
Their former chauffeur had offered to take her around when he'd heard she was coming for a visit. Once upon a time, Lloyd made car rides and road trips with her parents bearable; she had come to associate him with Altoids and warmth and doting stories about his newborn grandchild. When they met again in a nearby café a few days ago, he greeted her with a welcoming hug and a fond "look how much you've grown" and she worried she would have burst into a blubbering mess of tears right then and there.
Lloyd had been taking her around town for the past few days, to places that were familiar but changed – except her old house, she wasn't ready for that, she decided – and happily updated her on the recent goings-on. Ritman was getting demolished, he'd mentioned sadly yesterday, and she told him that was partly why she was here for a visit.
Today, he drove her by an old bookstore she frequented whenever she wanted to be alone, surprisingly still in business. Lloyd had always known to look for her there, and it touched her that he still remembered. More than once, she wondered what would have happened if they stayed. In spite of all the trouble with rumors and her not so great reputation, she had managed to find a handful of people she could honestly, openly, talk to—no BS, no pretending. Perhaps she could have found even more. Perhaps she would have lost them too.
Freya didn't think it was wise to get all sentimental before meeting up with her old classmates, so she saved a visit to the bookstore another day and asked Lloyd to drop her off at P. Johnson's instead. Might as well get it over with. She scheduled dinner and desserts with Lloyd for the day after as well, knowing full well she would have to rely on his calming presence if the reunion turns out exactly how she imagined it would be.
The drive to the bar was quicker than she'd anticipated, barely enough time to prepare herself – although she wasn't exactly sure what she was preparing for, or even why she had to. It just felt like something she should be ready for, like a conference call with the board or a big presentation with the clients where she has to be in full control. No room for mishaps or mistakes or awkward silences. Freya stalled in her seat for just a moment to compose herself. Another long, centering breath did the trick, and as she stepped out of the car and waved goodbye to Lloyd, all of her nerves washed away.
Inside, Sebastian was the first one she noticed, his face and stature all too familiar even after all these years. All at once she was stricken with affection, wistfulness, and guilt. He was tending the bar, which was rather surprising to Freya. Bartender in Delton would have been the last identifier she'd pick for him; NFL superstar and beyond had seemed more apt back then. It was difficult not to wonder what happened after high school then, to him and everyone else she knew. Did he leave and come back, did he never leave at all? They drifted apart even before she left; perhaps something had already happened then.
At the bar were two other familiar Ritman alum, although it took a bit longer to place who they were. Zhou was the only name her mind could supply at the moment; not part of the group she usually hung out with, but one of their targets. One of the smart ones. The other guy she also knew – another target of her so-called friends – but his name escaped her. He's changed a lot, Freya speculated. Her memory of him was conflicting with what she saw now.
Instead of trying to prod her memory further for names, she decided to wait for introductions, or reintroductions, to come up organically. Freya joined the two at the bar and ordered a drink before anything else.
"Hey, Sebastian," she greeted, smiling with genuine fondness -- and only the barest hint of something sadder -- as she got a better look at him. Whatever happened after high school, he still seemed like the Sebastian she knew back then. Sweet, reserved, completely unlike the rest of the people she had been surrounded by. She hoped the years had been kind to him. "Can I get an Old Fashioned?"
Then as she waited for her drink, she turned to the two, waving casually in greeting. "Have you guys seen Jack?"
Five missed calls from mom. One email from her client, one from her boss. A facebook post from Jack.
Freya took a sip of her silver needle tea and glanced at the notifications that greeted her, already drafting responses in her head. Her mom would be saved for last – although never would be more ideal. She had learned the hard way that dealing with her mother so early in the day only led to a migraine that would need nursing until sunset. It was the last thing she needed.
Work, on the other hand, was easy. Freya replied to her client, a couple with a newly opened boutique looking to establish their brand and develop their online presence, without having to spare much effort. They were sweet in that uniquely Delton way that practically drenched her in a wave of nostalgia when she first met with them. It was something she hadn't realized she missed after living in brusque New York City for so long. Their email, filled with gushing commendations and multiple proclamations of wanting to work with her again, was essentially an informal 5-star review.
To her boss, she'd simply emailed, "Done. Rescheduled this week's brainstorming session and everything else I had for when I get back."
Her phone buzzed with three more messages from mommy dearest just as the email sent, the paranoia lacing her texts impossibly palpable. Freya had been careful not to mention her week-long "business trip" to her former hometown, fully aware that her mom would yet again blow things out of proportion. Delton continued to be a sore spot for her mom; apparently so deeply damaging to her psyche that she would sooner give up half her estates than set foot back there. After they left so suddenly all those years ago, they never spoke about Ritman or Delton or anyone from there. Not about her friends, their neighbors. Not even about her father, still locked away in prison somewhere.
That it remained such a mystery to her was what compelled her to finally return… well, that and the quiet, nagging regret that still lingered in the corner of her mind, of course. When she heard they had someone signing all the way from Maine, she immediately volunteered and passed up her usual high-profile clientele. It was the justification she needed; one she couldn't back out from if she happened to get cold feet, as she had many times before.
Freya took another sip of her tea, a long centering breath, then swiped up and away from the messages. No dealing with mom today.
"Can't wait to see what's inside ;)" she replied to Jack instead. Her little reunion had been a happy coincidence – kismet, the silly, quixotic part of her would whisper, as though the fates or god or whatever higher being is up there actually cared enough about her feelings to orchestrate all these events to coincide.
⇢ ⇢ ⇢
Their former chauffeur had offered to take her around when he'd heard she was coming for a visit. Once upon a time, Lloyd made car rides and road trips with her parents bearable; she had come to associate him with Altoids and warmth and doting stories about his newborn grandchild. When they met again in a nearby café a few days ago, he greeted her with a welcoming hug and a fond "look how much you've grown" and she worried she would have burst into a blubbering mess of tears right then and there.
Lloyd had been taking her around town for the past few days, to places that were familiar but changed – except her old house, she wasn't ready for that, she decided – and happily updated her on the recent goings-on. Ritman was getting demolished, he'd mentioned sadly yesterday, and she told him that was partly why she was here for a visit.
Today, he drove her by an old bookstore she frequented whenever she wanted to be alone, surprisingly still in business. Lloyd had always known to look for her there, and it touched her that he still remembered. More than once, she wondered what would have happened if they stayed. In spite of all the trouble with rumors and her not so great reputation, she had managed to find a handful of people she could honestly, openly, talk to—no BS, no pretending. Perhaps she could have found even more. Perhaps she would have lost them too.
Freya didn't think it was wise to get all sentimental before meeting up with her old classmates, so she saved a visit to the bookstore another day and asked Lloyd to drop her off at P. Johnson's instead. Might as well get it over with. She scheduled dinner and desserts with Lloyd for the day after as well, knowing full well she would have to rely on his calming presence if the reunion turns out exactly how she imagined it would be.
The drive to the bar was quicker than she'd anticipated, barely enough time to prepare herself – although she wasn't exactly sure what she was preparing for, or even why she had to. It just felt like something she should be ready for, like a conference call with the board or a big presentation with the clients where she has to be in full control. No room for mishaps or mistakes or awkward silences. Freya stalled in her seat for just a moment to compose herself. Another long, centering breath did the trick, and as she stepped out of the car and waved goodbye to Lloyd, all of her nerves washed away.
⇢ ⇢ ⇢
Inside, Sebastian was the first one she noticed, his face and stature all too familiar even after all these years. All at once she was stricken with affection, wistfulness, and guilt. He was tending the bar, which was rather surprising to Freya. Bartender in Delton would have been the last identifier she'd pick for him; NFL superstar and beyond had seemed more apt back then. It was difficult not to wonder what happened after high school then, to him and everyone else she knew. Did he leave and come back, did he never leave at all? They drifted apart even before she left; perhaps something had already happened then.
At the bar were two other familiar Ritman alum, although it took a bit longer to place who they were. Zhou was the only name her mind could supply at the moment; not part of the group she usually hung out with, but one of their targets. One of the smart ones. The other guy she also knew – another target of her so-called friends – but his name escaped her. He's changed a lot, Freya speculated. Her memory of him was conflicting with what she saw now.
Instead of trying to prod her memory further for names, she decided to wait for introductions, or reintroductions, to come up organically. Freya joined the two at the bar and ordered a drink before anything else.
"Hey, Sebastian," she greeted, smiling with genuine fondness -- and only the barest hint of something sadder -- as she got a better look at him. Whatever happened after high school, he still seemed like the Sebastian she knew back then. Sweet, reserved, completely unlike the rest of the people she had been surrounded by. She hoped the years had been kind to him. "Can I get an Old Fashioned?"
Then as she waited for her drink, she turned to the two, waving casually in greeting. "Have you guys seen Jack?"
1x Like
Lionhearted ♡
Member
Seen
1 day ago
 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ | ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ W a y D o w n W e G o , P a r t N o . location: 322 Heath Road → P.J’s interacting with: Jack @Hawkins, Meir @Severance, Freya@Eleven ◂◂ II ▸▸ Roslyn — Bon Iver & St. Vincent § |
Mornings were always rough for Sebastian. The sweet escape of slumber could never be taken for granted, and Sebastian valued that part of his day the most. It’s sad to say that he’d prefer to be sleeping than doing anything else. Perhaps such feelings are brought upon by the emptiness, and the fulfilment of his dreams and fantasies are what get him through the days. Sebastian would fall asleep on his stomach, but would always wake on his side, the first sight being his dog tags from the military, a necklace given to him by his father, and an array of medals, trophies, and photos from his success in high school—all displayed neatly by the large window that overlooked the dense forestry of Maine.
He blinked a few times, appreciating the fact that he never needed an alarm to wake up for work, but also annoyed that he could never be able to sleep in to enjoy just a few more moments of a different reality, or the lack of his current one. Sebastian took a deep breath, reacclimating to the truth of his life, the memories rushing in like raging rapids and coming in flashes that felt like punches to his gut—the usual way he wakes each day. He opened his eyes as the sun’s position shifted to glimmer in his deep blue eyes, signifying that it was time to get up and get ready for his long shift.
The routine of getting ready was second-nature, allowing him to think about all the things he needed to think about. This morning, it was the planned reunion with a few old classmates, that he purposefully refused to reply to for the sake of his introversion. Sebastian told himself that he would leave it up to fate to decide whether or not he would join, and this day he was scheduled as a double, so that made his decision for him. Although, he did look forward to the brief meeting he’d have with them as he, oh-so-skillfully, would help intoxicate them. In a few short moments his body was cleaned, his hair was styled, his uniform was on, and he clicked the lights off of his messy bedroom.
Sebastian still lived in the same house that his father bought when he moved from Germany. Nowadays, he had nobody to say his farewells to whenever he’d leave, since he had no nanny to care for him anymore. The seclusion was nice and Sebastian genuinely enjoyed living alone, but it was obvious that it was very negative towards his declining mental state. Regardless, he continued with his commute without thought or expression, his now-mundane personality encompassing the better of him these days.
Sebastian said his usual greetings to his coworkers, set up the bar with ease, and awaited the rush and the foreseen bitterness of the tourists. Thankfully, it was a Monday, so it wasn’t expected to be busy and he could hopefully have a chill day.
And to his surprise, the day went on simply and slow, just how Sebastian enjoyed his work shifts. He stood at his usual spot at the empty bar, right by the vodka, spinning a pen with his right hand, his chin held up by his left hand as he leaned, hunched and tired. The ambiance of the old, tavern-like building was comforting once Sebastian took the time to actually appreciate it. It added to his trendiness of being a bartender at such a unique spot in town. He wore a nicely-fitted black t-shirt with the logo on the back and his name embroidered on the front, paired with dark jeans that hugged his muscular legs nicely.
It wasn’t until the arrival of his old classmates that his monotony would break into anxiety, as he began covering up his melancholy as best he could. He was embarrassed of being on the other side of the bar; both drawn upon by not agreeing, nor disagreeing, to join the reunion and from shamefully being presented to them at his full-time job as a simple bartender. First it was Jack, that was always a pleasant surprise since he enjoyed her company at work, but Meir was the first strike to cause his mix in emotions.
Sebastian didn’t have much of a greeting for them, which wasn’t inordinary for him since he has always been stand-offish, regardless of his mental state; he always hides his emotions. He made their drinks quickly and flashy, showing off his bartending skills a little to try to feel less inferior to Meir, who clearly was doing so much better since his high school days. His stature was strong and manly, and he somehow managed to hold onto his instilled intelligence and was very clearly surpassing the low-lifes of Ritman High, that Sebastion now considers himself apart of. Sebastian handed them their drinks with a very faint smile, and a quick nod for politeness.
Zhou was next to come in, though she didn’t approach Sebastian for a drink or greeting, so he chose to ignore her for the time being, not out of spite, but out of his own awkwardness. Sebastian moved to polish some wine glasses as his shell began to close more and more, realizing that their company had only made him feel worse about himself instead of whatever it was that he thought it would make him feel.
And maybe it was because he was lost in thought that he didn’t hear her come in, but the familiarity of her voice rang deep for Sebastian as she spoke his name. He flicked his head up from the wine glass and there she was, just as beautiful as he remembered, and just as alluring. Freya—the girl that Sebastian had such a weakness for at Ritman, that still, unexpectedly, lingered as the same feelings resurfaced within the moment. Among the memories that they shared, he very clearly remembered the night that she took his virginity And he wished that he could’ve found it in him to not distance himself from her afterwards, not because she wasn’t good, because it was certainly very great and memorable for Sebastian, but because she seemed so much more than what he imagined himself as. Seeing her now, he couldn’t help but blush from the butterflies in his stomach, realizing that he never got the chance to tell her how he really felt, but then, he could never speak so freely about his feelings, so he let whatever they had wash away like the rest of his life.
Without retaining anything she said, Sebastian didn’t realize he was subconsciously still polishing the same glass, his grip becoming too tight and eventually cracking the glass in half, resulting in a small cut on his hand. The blood began to soak the rag as the sharp ting helped bring him back from his thoughts. The embarrassment couldn’t make his face anymore red than it was, and he tried to hide it with a chuckle, “Whoops—I’ll be right back.”
Sebastian rushed to the back area of the bar where he would wash away the cut and later, appropriately bandage it. But, instead, he stood there with the water running over his hand as he tried to compose himself with deep breaths.
He blinked a few times, appreciating the fact that he never needed an alarm to wake up for work, but also annoyed that he could never be able to sleep in to enjoy just a few more moments of a different reality, or the lack of his current one. Sebastian took a deep breath, reacclimating to the truth of his life, the memories rushing in like raging rapids and coming in flashes that felt like punches to his gut—the usual way he wakes each day. He opened his eyes as the sun’s position shifted to glimmer in his deep blue eyes, signifying that it was time to get up and get ready for his long shift.
The routine of getting ready was second-nature, allowing him to think about all the things he needed to think about. This morning, it was the planned reunion with a few old classmates, that he purposefully refused to reply to for the sake of his introversion. Sebastian told himself that he would leave it up to fate to decide whether or not he would join, and this day he was scheduled as a double, so that made his decision for him. Although, he did look forward to the brief meeting he’d have with them as he, oh-so-skillfully, would help intoxicate them. In a few short moments his body was cleaned, his hair was styled, his uniform was on, and he clicked the lights off of his messy bedroom.
Sebastian still lived in the same house that his father bought when he moved from Germany. Nowadays, he had nobody to say his farewells to whenever he’d leave, since he had no nanny to care for him anymore. The seclusion was nice and Sebastian genuinely enjoyed living alone, but it was obvious that it was very negative towards his declining mental state. Regardless, he continued with his commute without thought or expression, his now-mundane personality encompassing the better of him these days.
Sebastian said his usual greetings to his coworkers, set up the bar with ease, and awaited the rush and the foreseen bitterness of the tourists. Thankfully, it was a Monday, so it wasn’t expected to be busy and he could hopefully have a chill day.
And to his surprise, the day went on simply and slow, just how Sebastian enjoyed his work shifts. He stood at his usual spot at the empty bar, right by the vodka, spinning a pen with his right hand, his chin held up by his left hand as he leaned, hunched and tired. The ambiance of the old, tavern-like building was comforting once Sebastian took the time to actually appreciate it. It added to his trendiness of being a bartender at such a unique spot in town. He wore a nicely-fitted black t-shirt with the logo on the back and his name embroidered on the front, paired with dark jeans that hugged his muscular legs nicely.
It wasn’t until the arrival of his old classmates that his monotony would break into anxiety, as he began covering up his melancholy as best he could. He was embarrassed of being on the other side of the bar; both drawn upon by not agreeing, nor disagreeing, to join the reunion and from shamefully being presented to them at his full-time job as a simple bartender. First it was Jack, that was always a pleasant surprise since he enjoyed her company at work, but Meir was the first strike to cause his mix in emotions.
Sebastian didn’t have much of a greeting for them, which wasn’t inordinary for him since he has always been stand-offish, regardless of his mental state; he always hides his emotions. He made their drinks quickly and flashy, showing off his bartending skills a little to try to feel less inferior to Meir, who clearly was doing so much better since his high school days. His stature was strong and manly, and he somehow managed to hold onto his instilled intelligence and was very clearly surpassing the low-lifes of Ritman High, that Sebastion now considers himself apart of. Sebastian handed them their drinks with a very faint smile, and a quick nod for politeness.
Zhou was next to come in, though she didn’t approach Sebastian for a drink or greeting, so he chose to ignore her for the time being, not out of spite, but out of his own awkwardness. Sebastian moved to polish some wine glasses as his shell began to close more and more, realizing that their company had only made him feel worse about himself instead of whatever it was that he thought it would make him feel.
And maybe it was because he was lost in thought that he didn’t hear her come in, but the familiarity of her voice rang deep for Sebastian as she spoke his name. He flicked his head up from the wine glass and there she was, just as beautiful as he remembered, and just as alluring. Freya—the girl that Sebastian had such a weakness for at Ritman, that still, unexpectedly, lingered as the same feelings resurfaced within the moment. Among the memories that they shared, he very clearly remembered the night that she took his virginity And he wished that he could’ve found it in him to not distance himself from her afterwards, not because she wasn’t good, because it was certainly very great and memorable for Sebastian, but because she seemed so much more than what he imagined himself as. Seeing her now, he couldn’t help but blush from the butterflies in his stomach, realizing that he never got the chance to tell her how he really felt, but then, he could never speak so freely about his feelings, so he let whatever they had wash away like the rest of his life.
Without retaining anything she said, Sebastian didn’t realize he was subconsciously still polishing the same glass, his grip becoming too tight and eventually cracking the glass in half, resulting in a small cut on his hand. The blood began to soak the rag as the sharp ting helped bring him back from his thoughts. The embarrassment couldn’t make his face anymore red than it was, and he tried to hide it with a chuckle, “Whoops—I’ll be right back.”
Sebastian rushed to the back area of the bar where he would wash away the cut and later, appropriately bandage it. But, instead, he stood there with the water running over his hand as he tried to compose himself with deep breaths.
1x Like
coGM
fledermaus 𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧
Member
Seen
30 days ago
 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ | ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ W a y D o w n W e G o , P a r t I location: Howard Johnson's Motel → P. Johnson's interacting with: Sebastian (@Lionhearted), Sara (@banjoanjo), Meir (@Severance), & Freya (@Eleven) ◂◂ II ▸▸ Working for the Weekend — Loverboy§ |
The only way she can describe the feeling is as if she was taking a long hike up Mount Everest, and when she is finally at the top to cozy up by a fire, she’s tossed right back over the edge – except it’s worse. It’s worse because a weird sense of old friend obligation is having her walk off the edge willingly – worse because that cozy fire was fuckin’ Death Valley, one of the warmest places on earth. And the spot she fell upon, the spot where her body lay in eternal existential crisis? People who lived on Mount Everest and hiked better than any other hiker traipsed down like a woman in a tampon advertisement to dance around her shallow grave. Genesis doesn’t remember much of her classmates, except that she hated them and she imagines they are probably good at hiking or other sporty, impressive things.
“Hi, is this the front office?” A fly, smug and obnoxious, buzzed about her ears and brown locks; Genesis pawed the air and squeezed her fist until she could feel its body give out in the folds of her palm. “It is? Great. So, um, I was just wondering if there was another channel or if I would be stuck listening to the fuckin’ worst children’s show in the history of America all week.”
“Sorry, ma’am, we only get that channel…”
Genesis scrunched her eyes up and counted to three. She’s a better person now; a professional, an adult – composed, collected. “Yeah, well, it fuckin’ sucks and you’re a fuckin’ failure. Don’t call me again.”
“But you were the one who–”
Nailed it.
As if taunting her, the noise from the TV intensified when Elmo appeared on the screen, all high-pitched and yelling. Maybe if Genesis glared at it hard enough, it would burst into flames, and possibly take her with it so she wouldn’t have to reunite with any of her classmates. Except Jack. Genesis actually would like to catch up with Jack.
“Today’s word of the day is: imagination!”
Click. “Yeah, imagine if I could wring your neck.”
The TV flickers and turns black. With its static gone, silence fills in the void left by Elmo’s voice, and Genesis is almost tempted to turn the TV back on. Now, all she can do is sit in the quiet and think about seeing her classmates again. Her classmates that remember her as an utter mess (which is a fair assessment) and a complete bitch. Well, the last one hadn’t changed much.
Before her thoughts could become even more emo, her phone vibrated against her thigh (because ringtones are for losers) with a message from Jack. A beat later, and someone responded to the apparent group message. Time to face the music.
“Hi, is this the front office? It is? Great. So I was just wondering if you knew whether Delton has Uber or Lyft?”
“Um, no ma’am, I don’t think so.”
“Fuckin’ piece of shit town.” Click.
Without a car or anyone to get a lift from, Genesis’s only option left was to take a nice lengthy stroll to P. Johnson’s. Even though it could be considered a good workout, the walk ended too soon.
Genesis hesitates at the entrance, hovering slightly at the door and hoping no one could see her lurking like a total creep.
“Whatever.” Genesis mutters to herself, as if the simple word could shrug off all the shame and embarrassment she felt from her high school years. At least it gave her the courage to square her shoulders and enter P.J’s.
If she is being quite honest, Genesis doesn’t really remember the faces of her classmates. While she could blame it on her extracurricular activities, in truth it was due to her not caring about anyone outside of herself. Genesis didn’t really account for other people being at the establishment and being unable to locate anyone. The only face she could really recall was Jack’s, and Jack was nowhere to be seen. There was an ugly contraption surrounded by a group of people – the time capsule.
Genesis approaches them without showing an ounce of the nervousness she is experiencing, something she is quite proud of. “Where’s Jack?”
Fuck, Jack better show up soon because Genesis does not want to be around these people otherwise.
“Hi, is this the front office?” A fly, smug and obnoxious, buzzed about her ears and brown locks; Genesis pawed the air and squeezed her fist until she could feel its body give out in the folds of her palm. “It is? Great. So, um, I was just wondering if there was another channel or if I would be stuck listening to the fuckin’ worst children’s show in the history of America all week.”
“Sorry, ma’am, we only get that channel…”
Genesis scrunched her eyes up and counted to three. She’s a better person now; a professional, an adult – composed, collected. “Yeah, well, it fuckin’ sucks and you’re a fuckin’ failure. Don’t call me again.”
“But you were the one who–”
Nailed it.
As if taunting her, the noise from the TV intensified when Elmo appeared on the screen, all high-pitched and yelling. Maybe if Genesis glared at it hard enough, it would burst into flames, and possibly take her with it so she wouldn’t have to reunite with any of her classmates. Except Jack. Genesis actually would like to catch up with Jack.
“Today’s word of the day is: imagination!”
Click. “Yeah, imagine if I could wring your neck.”
The TV flickers and turns black. With its static gone, silence fills in the void left by Elmo’s voice, and Genesis is almost tempted to turn the TV back on. Now, all she can do is sit in the quiet and think about seeing her classmates again. Her classmates that remember her as an utter mess (which is a fair assessment) and a complete bitch. Well, the last one hadn’t changed much.
Before her thoughts could become even more emo, her phone vibrated against her thigh (because ringtones are for losers) with a message from Jack. A beat later, and someone responded to the apparent group message. Time to face the music.
“Hi, is this the front office? It is? Great. So I was just wondering if you knew whether Delton has Uber or Lyft?”
“Um, no ma’am, I don’t think so.”
“Fuckin’ piece of shit town.” Click.
#
Without a car or anyone to get a lift from, Genesis’s only option left was to take a nice lengthy stroll to P. Johnson’s. Even though it could be considered a good workout, the walk ended too soon.
Genesis hesitates at the entrance, hovering slightly at the door and hoping no one could see her lurking like a total creep.
“Whatever.” Genesis mutters to herself, as if the simple word could shrug off all the shame and embarrassment she felt from her high school years. At least it gave her the courage to square her shoulders and enter P.J’s.
If she is being quite honest, Genesis doesn’t really remember the faces of her classmates. While she could blame it on her extracurricular activities, in truth it was due to her not caring about anyone outside of herself. Genesis didn’t really account for other people being at the establishment and being unable to locate anyone. The only face she could really recall was Jack’s, and Jack was nowhere to be seen. There was an ugly contraption surrounded by a group of people – the time capsule.
Genesis approaches them without showing an ounce of the nervousness she is experiencing, something she is quite proud of. “Where’s Jack?”
Fuck, Jack better show up soon because Genesis does not want to be around these people otherwise.
3 Guests
viewing this page
© 2007-2024