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
As the car rolled out of Dylan's driveway, the chatter among her friends was a mix of excitement and nervousness. They had piled into the oversized SUV that Tom had insisted on using to make the trip easier. His hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as the girls navigated the unfamiliar roads all with Dylan giving directions. But Tom knew the roads like the back of his hand, with or without her direction.
"Are we really doing this?" Emma asked, glancing at Dylan through the rearview mirror. "Carter's party is like, a legit Hollywood thing, right?"
"Trust me, it'll be fun!" Dylan reassured her in the passenger seat, attempting to mask her own flutter of anxiety. She had only been to Carter's house once—just a quick drop-off with Katie—but the memory of it was still fresh in her mind. "And yeah, Carter's house is in more of the Hollywood Hills part than the Beverly Hills part."
"Guys is that the Hollywood Sign?" Hannah exclaimed, moving out of her seat to stare at the landscape, "Oh my god it is!"
"What? Where?"
"Right there!"
"Oh my god! That's the sign!"
As they pulled up to Carter's house, the exterior loomed larger than life, bathed in colorful lights that twinkled against the night sky. The sound of music spilled out into the street, something they were able to hear about a minute out minutes out, thumping bass mingling with laughter and chatter. The girls stepped out of the car, their breath visible in the cool air, but the warmth of the party buzzed just beyond the threshold.
"Wow," Emily breathed, eyes wide as she took in the scene. "This is... insane."
"Definitely not in Springfield anymore," another friend chimed in, shaking her head in disbelief. The façade of Carter's house, with its sprawling gardens and intricate architecture, was a far cry from the quaint homes they were used to. The girls straightened their outfits, each wearing a piece from Dylan's upgraded wardrobe, hoping to fit in despite the obvious differences in their backgrounds.
Tom rolled down the window, "Now girls, if you need me to come pick you up later just call the house," he informed and the girls nodded, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do at your age," he chuckled, as if remembering his old days.
Dylan laughed nodding, not understanding how relaxed of a parental figure one could be, "I know, Tom. We'll be fine."
He nodded as the girls all thanked him, "Thanks Mr. Montgomery."
As they entered the party, the contrast became even more apparent. The outside crowd was immediately noticeable, draped in expensive clothing and effortlessly cool hairstyles, exuding confidence that felt rather intimidating at first glance. Dylan's friends hung back, exchanging glances filled with uncertainty, the obvious standing out among their expressions.
