Another Summer in Allercana

two.

That horrendously obnoxious alarm starts blaring from my phone signaling my peaceful nap had come to a halting end.

Groaning, I roll over to turn it off and see 6:03 on my lock screen. If I hit snooze, I'll never have enough time to get ready or hear the end of it from my grandma.

Begrudgingly, I shuffle out of bed and to my luggage which was still unpacked. Sifting around, my best pick was a simple brown and flowy button up with a cream colored skirt. I paired my mom's vintage Gucci bag and Hermès sandals my grandma bought me as a "Welcome to Allercana" gift along with it. Some natural make up did the job and my hair was just as is.

Just as the clock hit 6:57, my grandmother was already fussing downstairs and rushing me out the door. My grandfather's cherry red 1967 Corvette Stingray Convertible was the only car my grandmother kept of his, meaning I had to figure out how to drive this history piece for the entire summer.

My grandma gives me basic directions on how to get there while I rolled the top down. Pulling out of the driveway, she messes with the stations and lands on one playing Celia Cruz. She happily sings along as I zip through the streets of Allercana.

The salty air blew through my hair, making it all kinds of messy but I could not care less. This was the most at home I had felt in years. Those cold Columbia dorms were a faint memory of the past.

"Turn left here, it's the house with the vines," she lowers the music as we emerge up the driveway. The car hadn't been in park for a minute and my grandma was practically running out of the car.

As she headed for the door, I fixed my hair in the rear view mirror and quickly put some lipstick on— a subtle red lip, although truly there is nothing subtle about a red lip. My grandma always told me red lipstick brought attention to our mole, which for some reason men liked. I figured if she's going to be Cupid against my wishes, I may as well make the best of it.

I meet her at the door as I lower my skirt. A smile grows widely on her face as she points at my lips.

"You remembered my advice," she smirks as she unbuttons some of the buttons higher on my top.

"Abuela!"

"You're young, mi niña. I wish I still had a body like that. Cherish it while you can."

I can't help but let out a small laugh as she grabs my arm to keep balance.

"Let's go," she says, opening the door before us to reveal not only a massive living room, but over 30 people for this "small dinner party" she convinced me to come to.

There were all kinds of people here: young, old, tall and short. You could see the grandmothers and mothers hand in hand with their daughters all flocking towards this one guy who seemed rather disturbed by the advances being made toward him. To the right, men in Sperry's and striped linen shirts stood in a circle with whiskey filled glasses, all probably talking about work. The rest of the women were popping bottles of champagne in the kitchen while the elderly ladies sat in lounge chairs outside watching the kids run around. Then, of course, the teenagers who would probably prefer to be drinking at a bonfire tonight with their friends we're sneaking around the bar, pouring whatever they found open into their cups.

It was a conglomerate of perhaps the wealthiest people I will ever meet and I could not have felt more out of place than I did right now.

"Um... Abuela, I'm gonna go use the bathroom really quick."

She looks up at me and rolls her eyes, knowing I was already plotting my escape from her.

"Go quick, you haven't even met anyone yet."

I let her go off into the crowd and try to make my way to the bathroom. Twists and turns eventually lead me to what looked like a library where a teen girl and older looking guy stood, sifting through books.

"Oh wow..." I said a bit too loud, prompting them both to turn around.

Shit.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, I'm just-"

"You didn't interrupt," the man says. He was simple looking, yet sweet. Curly light brown hair sat at the top of his head along with an outfit practically ever man in this house was wearing right now. As I observed him, a lightbulb went off in my head. This could only be one person. My gaze was broken though by the teen girl standing before me.

"Hi! I'm Anastasia Archibald, you are?"

Grandkids of the hostess.

"I'm Lorelai, Lorelai Hughes. Everyone calls me Rory, though," I reply. I look down as her hand and she's holding a copy of Pride and Prejudice.

"First time reading it?" I point at the novel, walking more into the library.

"Yes, it's actually one of my required readings for Columbia this summer."

"I just graduated from Columbia! You must be an English major too then, I remember having to read this before starting my freshman year too."

She looks at me excitedly.

"Oh no way? Any advice for incoming freshmen?"

I can see the eagerness in her eyes. It takes me back to the summer before I started and the same innocence I had as Anastasia; the innocence before you enter the real world.

"How's this... not only will I give you all kinds of advice for Columbia, but I'll lend you my annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice too. Come by my house down the road tomorrow. It's the house with the red door."

I look over at who I imagine is her older brother and the Oliver Archibald my grandmother was raving about, who seems rather amused by the conversation we are conducting.

"You have a deal," she sticks her hand out to shake mine and leaves the novel back on the shelf.

"Let's go before grandma accuses us of hiding out in here," she tells the man and signals to the door.

He approaches me as she walks in front of us.

"Thanks for being so willing to help my little sister, I've never met someone so giving on a first encounter," he says, now extending his hand to me.

"I'm Oliver. Oliver Archibald."

"I had a feeling," I respond, causing him to wear his confusion on his face.

"Our grandmothers are trying to play matchmaker with us. You were the first thing my grandma brought up today when I got here. I had to shut her down because she was seconds away from setting a wedding date!"

"Ahh yes, grandmothers tend to be quite pushy in our love lives aren't they?"

I nod yes and join him in laughter, trying to get over this conversation as we make our way back to the party.

My grandmother spots the three of us and I can't help but imagine how she's going to start this conversation.