𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐆, rodrick heffley

21. the undoing

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜
chapter twenty-one: the undoing

[a/n]: enjoy!
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✶˚⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･━━━ WHEN HALEY BUXBAUM WAS THIRTEEN YEARS old, she read The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Though a few of the more adult, mature themes went in one adolescent ear and out the other, something that's been haunting her like a cold winter's breath is the fig tree analogy.

In summation, the fig tree's branches represent the various options and pathways one could embark on. A person cannot possibly select all of the figs, so they must analyze each one so they can pick the ripest, most suitable one. Eventually, the picker's indecision drives them to their demise, as all of the fruit falls to the ground, wrinkled and past their prime.

Now, at seventeen years old, Haley Buxbaum is at a fork in the road in her life. The summer before senior year is over. Gold overtakes cerulean blue skies and crispy brown leaves litter freshly cut grass as summer bleeds seamlessly into autumn, and Haley Buxbaum is utterly unprepared.

Her troubles started on the hot summer night after Heather's birthday party, when she lashed out at Rodrick and essentially told him to fuck off forever (pardon her French). Since then, she's been sensing a gaping hole in her stomach, an unsettling churning that's telling her she made the wrong decision. But how could that be? He hurt her, so she pushed him away, like she should have. But her discomfort and uncertainty is unmistakable, and like emotions usually do, they are royally fucking up her life.

And it isn't just that. What other life-altering decisions has she made incorrectly? Has she been making too many choices on a mere whim? Does she even know anything about herself anymore– what she wants, what her goals are? Is she even sure of anything? Is she a fraud? Haley Louise Buxbaum is spiraling.

✶˚⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･━━━ "SO, I SEE HERE THAT YOU have a 4.9 GPA. You've taken 16 AP classes over the course of high school. Your extracurriculars are excellent." Haley's college counselor pushes her tortoiseshell glasses up her nose as she flicks through the eggshell white sheets of paper adhered to her clipboard. "That's all great, and these stats are going to give you the chance to get into some really fantastic colleges. But what we're here to discuss are your interests, your passions, possible career paths, things we can really narrow down so you have specific goals you can tell colleges about."

 "Right," is all Haley says in response. There it is. Haley used to know what to say in every interaction, how to charm people with her wits, and now all she has to offer is a dry "right."

 "So, Haley, tell me about your interests. At this point in time, what would you say you want to do with your life?" Ms. Perry, the counselor, leans forward in her black swivel chair and intertwines her fingers together.

"I'd like to go to Harvard and major in journalism. I'd like to apply for a few internships at news agencies. Then, I'd like to become either a journalist or a reporter," Haley recites. There it is. Haley used to tell people this was what she wanted to do because she knew that it was. Now, she just says so because she's programmed herself to.

 "Those are some very noble aspirations," Ms. Perry comments. "Let's look at a few programs and their course requirements..."