In 1988 when Dylan Montgomery moves to Beverly Hills after her mother remarries, she must navigate the challenges of fitting into a glamorous but daunting upper-class life. Living across from the charmingly cocky Nicholas and his introspective broth...
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UPPER CLASS | cherriasian
december '88
Dylan stood in the spacious kitchen, the air thick with the sweet aroma of cinnamon and sugar from the cookies Barbara was baking. The sleek countertops sparkled under the overhead lights, a stark contrast to the warm, rustic kitchen of her childhood. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to broach the topic that had consumed her thoughts for days.
"Mom, I was thinking—"
Barbara didn't look up from the mixing bowl. "I need to add more sugar. Can you hand me the bag, Dylan?"
Dylan hesitated, then passed the sugar, trying to keep her voice steady. "Right. So, I was thinking about New Year's. I'd like to invite some friends from back home to celebrate with us."
"Who?" Barbara asked, her tone dismissive as she continued mixing. "Why? You spend enough time with Katherine and those other girls doing Lord knows what anyways."
Dylan's jaw clenched slightly, trying her best not to get upset, "Mom her names Katie. Kay-Tee. I've told you this a million times," she pursued her lips trying to calm her rising nerves, "I was thinking you know Sarah and my old friends could come down for less than a week after Christmas so we could celebrate New Year's."
"New Year's?" Barbara scoffed, finally turning to face Dylan. "You've spent enough time with those girls back home when you had the chance. You need to focus on your schoolwork, not hosting parties."
"Mom, I'm getting straight A's!" Dylan felt her frustration bubbling over. "It's not like I'm failing or anything. Plus, I miss them. I thought it would be nice to celebrate with friends."
Barbara waved a hand dismissively. "You're always talking about home. You live here now, and it's time to start acting like it. And since we're on the topic of your behavior ever since we came here, I don't want boys hanging around here either. Especially not those boys across the street."
"Mom, Eric isn't like that! He's just a friend." Dylan's heart raced, irritation rising at her mother's tone.
"Just a friend?" Barbara's voice sharpened. "You've been spending too much time with him. I don't want you getting into any shenanigans. Remember, no boys upstairs unless I'm home."
"Mom, this isn't fair! We literally study every time he comes over! I can have friends over!" Dylan felt the heat creeping up her neck. "Oh my fucking god, Why can't you just listen to me for once?"
"Why can't you just understand that I don't want some leg spreading daughter for the neighbors to talk about?" Barbara snapped, her eyes narrowing. "You're being disrespectful, Dylan. I don't appreciate you talking back to me like that."
"Hypocritical much?" Dylan retorted, her voice rising. "You want me to keep up appearances but then tell me to stay home all the time? How does that even make sense? I thought you liked the Chavez's!"
