CRAZY FOR YOU | Johnny Lawrence

Chapter 12: Don't Dream It's Over

The few weeks after the tournament went by in bliss, with them the winter holidays. Everything seemed to be going perfectly: Daniel and I returned to our old ways and my mom appeared to have gotten over our argument, but most importantly, Johnny and I were doing great.

Now that he had quit the dojo, he was practically reborn, with no more stress, tension, or pent-up rage. It brought me pride to see him so carefree and happy, and now that training was out of the way we had more time for ourselves and we made sure to recover the one we lost.

I was sitting on my living room floor, leaning on the coffee table, working on some assignments when some letters fell from the mailbox at the entrance. I surrendered in front of my paper sheets filled with canceled-out calculus and got up to check the scattered envelopes that were lying on the mat.

I tossed aside the ones sent to my parents, scurrying for my name on each one. Finally, I found one addressed to me, a big pink stamp covering the milky white wrapping spelling 'ESMOD Paris'. My hands suddenly began to shake.

I had sent out an application to the École supérieure des arts et techniques de la mode a while back, a delusional attempt at escaping the suffocating reality. I never actually thought they would respond, let alone read it. I ripped the paper open and carefully read the printed words.

Dear Miss Y/n,

We are delighted to inform you that we were impressed with your considerations about your hypothetical acceptance. Your skills and grades are admirable as well as the sketches you sent us. Therefore we are more than pleased to welcome you to the institute at the beginning of the next academic term in September. Of course, we must consider your SAT exam results, they will determine your final step regarding acceptance in the school.

Kind regards,
The direction.

I blinked dumbly. My brain cleared of any thoughts as white noise filled my ears and I stood in place without daring to move a single muscle. All of the choices that led me to this moment replayed in my mind and with them surfaced the regret of it all. It was something I should be proud of, I know, but only if I wasn't now obliged to face all of the consequences of my reckless actions. 

I began to pace around, like an eight-ball in a billiard, figuring out what my next move was supposed to be, how I would tell about this, and who I would talk to first. After all, my parents would only be home by dinner, and I certainly couldn't keep myself composed until then. I snatched my purse and rushed to my car.

My hands were far too shaky, and I struggled to insert the keys into the ignition, and they slipped out of my fingers in a dangling mess. Trying to pick them up, I hit my head on something's sharp corner, making me wince in pain as I ran my digits through my hair, watching them come out stained in blood. 

I grunted frustrated, but still managed to start the engine and drive off even though I was seeing double, and launched myself on the road. 

Abruptly, I stopped the car in the middle of Johnny's driveway and ran to his door, knocking weakly on the hardwood. The smile he greeted me with was quick to fall as soon as he saw the agitated state I was in, and was quickly replaced by worry. 

«I... I need to talk to you» I mumbled and let myself leap into his arms as it was getting harder for me to stand. «Y/n are you alright? Is that blood?» He asked full of concern, leading me to his kitchen. 

He cupped my face in his hands and commanded me to stay still, resting my arms on the table. He came back a few moments later with wipes and hydrogen peroxide to clean my cut. «What's going on, baby? Did something happen?» he rambled, visibly panicked.