Lorelie vs the Life of Summer Rose

Chapter 1

Her name was Summer Rose.

She was the summer rose— seemingly at full-bloom in the wrong season, a breathtaking anomaly everyone coveted but adored too much to pick. She was beautiful, of course. Kind, honey-brown eyes and a mole in the corner of her lip. Vibrant in personality. Intelligent. Extremely intelligent. It got her a full-ride scholarship into the mega-rich boarding school practically down the road from the underfunded public-school she used to go to, and a chance at a life outside of the one she knew and loved. One she didn't even know if she wanted, blah blah blah.

"Next," I grumble.

Anyway, Summer had two loving parents. No divorces, no fights, no dysfunction. Just romance, almost gross amounts of it. So it came as no surprise that she had a childhood best friend she was in love with. Did he know? He couldn't not know. But he definitely started making a scene out of it when she started getting a little crush on her trust-fund baby academic rival, who I thought suited her a lot better.

"We all know you're picking the childhood friend. Don't be coy." I shift my grip over the book. "And stop leading him on! Do not kiss him!"

'But then this fear swept over her as she watched the shape of his body shrink into the distance, like watching him walk away now was like watching him walk away forever. So she ran. Her body moved as though it were programmed by someone else, her mind too sick with panic and an onslaught of desire locked away for far too long to stop, and—'

I throw the book. Summer Fucking Rose, I swear.

Apart from having no friends in her new school, Summer didn't really have any problems. I knew this because I was bitter and jealous and by the grand scheme of things, definitely did have problems. And it was weird, being jealous. Not because she was my friend or anything— she was fictional— but because I could pick up her book and escape in it, and then put it down and feel like garbage.

I flop back on to my bed. Already, the feeling has started to weigh down on me, as solid and suffocating as if an anvil had been dropped on to my chest. Summer Rose has the perfect life. It's not fair. It's not fair. While my dad is being packed away into a new coffin, Summer's is protected by the plot. He'll live ripe and long. He'll probably die a few years after one-hundred, holding the hand of his wife whom he'd loved so dotingly since his highschool days. It's the life my own parents deserved— a life stolen from us. We're hardly living anymore.

"Lorelie." The door inches open and Mum pokes her head into the room. "We're leaving in thirty minutes. Do you want something to eat?"
"That's okay, Mum. Unless you want to leave early to get something?"
"No." She pauses. "I haven't had much of an appetite recently."

"Same."

We're quiet. I take in her neat, gelled hair, her pressed, black dress, her pristine makeup layered and layered on. If I wasn't coming with her, I probably wouldn't know that she was going to a funeral today. Maybe a formal dinner, or even a cocktail party, with her pearl earrings and heels. But I guess it's the same for me. We're both trying to hold it together. Sometimes that means pretending that it's all okay, even if it's really, really not.

Mum nods. "Okay. I'll meet you in the car. Can you lock up?"

"Sure."

The door clicks shut behind her. I turn my gaze back to the ceiling and fight the urge to cry for what feels like the hundredth time this week.

It's hard to believe that just a few months ago, I was thriving. I was getting A's, I'd gotten voted in as School Captain, my volunteer work was starting to manifest into a real career and after years of relying on my allowance, I'd finally gotten a job, and that was picking up, too. I had good friends. I'd been halfway into saving for my big post-graduation trip. The family situation had been better than ever— I was actually getting along with my parents.

And then it all collapsed.

Dad's cancer had been a fatalistic blow. The way I function is one track minded; I can't multitask, can't separate sorrow from everyday life, can't let go. The grades slipping was natural, and apparently so was my inactive captaincy. But my volunteer work was crumbling, I started working too much to ease the pain, and then spending too much for short-term thrills. All my friends ended up bullying me but nobody else pitied me enough to take me in. Forget travelling overseas. And forget the family situation— my dad's dead.

It feels like I've got nothing left. What I do have left feels like it's already in the process of leaving me.

I don't know what to do.

Summer Rose's life makes me angry, frustrated and horribly sad all at the same time. It's not that I want to be her. I just want to live a little bit of her life in a tiny corner of her world, just to experience the security of a shittily written romance novel about highschool awkward-pining and slow-burns. I want the farm animals next door and the flower field backyards, and I want the long bike-rides home in frosty Autumn weather. I want ridiculously academically-arrogant classes. I want to knit by a fireplace and drift through farmer's markets. I want to outrun scolding teachers while I laugh and giggle, my hands in the hands of friends I can count on.

Summer Rose is the epitome of fairytale living. In a way, so am I.

But only one of them has a happy-ending.