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LONG ISLAND, MAY 1999
"This," Sylvia Fletcher announced, "is where the cast will be staying for the summer."
Willow gazed at a practically dilapidated brick building. It was nestled between a convenience store and a pawn shop, its walls reaching six or seven floors. One of the front windows had been broken, the medium-sized hole covered by a piece of plywood.
She turned to Sylvia, one fair eyebrow cocked curiously. The woman met her look with a sheepish grin.
"It's all the studio could afford," Sylvia responded, as her husband unloaded Willow's bags from the cab. "But I promise, the inside looks a lot better. They have the entire top floor to themselves."
Jared Fletcher, Willow's college advisor, gave the building a ghastly look.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay with us this summer?" Jared asked with concern, his voice slightly strained from unloading Willow's bags.
"Yes, I'm sure," Willow replied with a gentle smile, glancing at her advisor. "Plus, it might reflect poorly if Sylvia is seen giving me special treatment."
What she didn't say was that the real reason for declining the Fletchers' kind offer to stay in their Manhattan condo this summer was their unruly children. She couldn't bear the thought of spending her days on a bustling movie set only to return to the chaotic noise of Sylvia's youngest son and the angst of their eldest daughter. For Willow, with her introverted nature, a quieter existence among peers felt far more appealing.
Sylvia seemed to sense her reluctance, giving her husband a knowing look. "I'm sure Willow would much rather spend her evenings out at the bars with the rest of the cast, right, Willie?"
Internally, Willow cringed at both the suggestion and the nickname. The idea of going out filled her with anxiety; navigating social interactions felt daunting. And the nickname? Well, that was self-explanatory.
"Sure," she replied, forcing a reassuring smile.
"I dunno," Jared hesitated, biting his lip. "How wise is it to throw a bunch of hormonal twenty-somethings under one roof?"
Sylvia waved his concern away. "That's the whole point of my movie, Jared. How many times do I need to explain it? Sunburn is about the freedom of adulthood."
Amid the rush of cabs and the distant wail of sirens, Jared shot Willow a sideways glance. "I'm just worried."
But Sylvia missed the depth of his comment. Jared's concern wasn't merely about the chaos of young adults sharing a space; he was genuinely worried about Willow adjusting to it. He fretted over her crippling shyness, the only flaw in an otherwise remarkable young woman.
Willow recognized this, too. The night before, Jared had pointed out her fears as she sat in his home office, listing reasons she didn't deserve the summer opportunity.
