Other Girls of Gilmore Girls: The Lindsay Lister Story

Chapter 1

View along: S3 E10 That'll Do Pig

At night, the single traffic light in Stars Hollow switched over to flashing. "Ok, Lindsay. We treat flashing red like a stop sign and flashing yellow means you don't have to stop but watch out."

"Watch out for what?" I asked my dad during our driving lesson that night.

"Oncoming traffic. Someone who is supposed to stop at the flashing red, but doesn't."

"How am I supposed to tell if someone isn't going to follow the rules? I'm in my own car and they are in theirs." I rolled my eyes and flicked the blinker up. It shouldn't have taken me this long to get my license, but tomorrow I would finally take the test, and I knew I would pass. If 16-year-olds passed the test every day, I could do the same. I was a senior in high school, and while I couldn't tell if another driver was going to run a red light or not, I had been driving for a whole year longer than most of the other people taking the test. I would have taken it when I was 16, but that was a horrible year. I freaking hated it.

"After your test, are you helping mom set up for the carnival?" My dad pointed to the left as if I forgot what street we lived on. I told him I was going to help her set up. My mom earned her volunteer hours helping set up the Stars Hollow High Winter Carnival, a one-night event on a Thursday to help raise money for extracurriculars. It was also a good reason to have the following Friday off school.

I pulled into our driveway and my dad and I unbuckled our belts. "You'll do well," he told me.

And I did! Even though I could walk to the Winter Carnival, I drove instead. I parked the car and hoped someone, anyone, saw me get out of it. Everyone huddled in close groups and around outdoor heaters, looking for warmth.

I purchased a bag of caramel corn and walked inside one of the pop-up tents. I sat down to have my palm read by a woman in heavy jewelry. She wasn't allowed to burn candles or incense in the tent, with that being a fire hazard and all, so instead, she put these small battery-operated diffusers all over the place that smelled like sweet burning wood. "Hi," I greeted her as I entered the tent and put my $3 in her nearly empty fishbowl.

I knew from my mom that this palm reader paid a $50 rental fee for her tent at the carnival. I wondered who would be the customer that would help her break even on her costs. "Sit, sit," she greeted me in return.

"Hi. I'm Lindsay."

"To be so young and so pretty. This blonde, this sweet. Let me see your hand," she requested. I placed my hand, palm up, inside of hers. Her hand was warm and rough. "Look at this," she whispered as she drew her finger across my palm. I strained to see what it was because it was so dim inside the tent. "You do not have a clear path, do you? That's ok. You do not need one. Where your path should be, is from here to here." She traced the inside of my palm again. "You do not have a clear line. It is interrupted here with loss, great loss. I'm sorry for that. And love, oh look at that love. Mm-hm."

"What does that mean?"

"You do not yet know what is next for yourself, but that is ok because you are going to take your loss and your love and stir them up in a bowl and figure it out. Not right now, of course. But I can see that even though you don't know what you are doing next, you will know soon. Mm-hmm. And it will bring you some notoriety. Fame could we say? A little." She winked. "A very little, but probably more than anyone around here. I see this shine." She bent my hand backwards and peered closely between my fingers. "You are going to make something great. No matter what they say."

I left the tent feeling like I could make something great even though I was a high school senior without any college plans. Or any plans for that matter. I even felt silly for only just now getting my license. It had all slipped past me. There was great loss, the palm reader was right about that.