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
june '89
The cab ride from Newark Airport to Princeton was a quiet one. Dylan watched the scenery shift from the urban sprawl of New Jersey into lush greenery and stately colonial-style homes. The East Coast air felt different on this side—heavier with humidity, but cooler than the dry heat of Beverly Hills. She couldn't decide if it reminded her more of Springfield or something entirely new, but anything was better than Springfield, Massachusetts. She leaned her forehead against the window, letting the hum of the engine and the rhythmic motion of the car lull her nerves, but her thoughts were restless.
"Excited?" Tom asked, breaking the silence. He glanced at her from the front seat, his tone light but searching.
"Yeah," she said, forcing a small smile. Excited wasn't exactly the word. Standing on the verge of Princeton—an Ivy League institution, a dream for so many—felt surreal. Even in Beverly Hills, surrounded by kids who casually discussed Stanford or Yale over class, Dylan hadn't fully believed it was her reality until now. Even if it was only a mere orientation event.
As the cab pulled into campus, she stared out the window in awe. The Gothic architecture rose like something out of a storybook, ivy crawling up stone walls. Students and parents bustled along cobblestone paths, some carrying maps, others with bags slung over their shoulders. The sound of laughter, the scrape of suitcase wheels, and the faint hum of distant music filled the air. It was overwhelming and exhilarating all at once.
"Looks just like I remember it," Tom said as the cab stopped. He stepped out and stretched, nodding approvingly at the campus, "I've passed by here a few times on business trips."
Dylan climbed out after him, gripping the strap of her large luggage bag as she took it all in. Her eyes lingered on the rows of buildings and sprawling green quads dotted with clusters of people. This was it. Her future.
But even as awe settled over her, a familiar knot of anxiety tightened in her chest. Princeton was dazzling, yes, but it felt impossibly polished—like Beverly Hills, only with a historic East Coast charm.
"Come on, let's check in," Tom said, grabbing his own modest duffel bag. Dylan followed, her heart thrumming as they joined the stream of arriving students.
Several check-in lines buzzed with energy. Tables were set up with stacks of name tags, schedules, and glossy Princeton brochures. Parents hovered nearby, offering unsolicited advice or snapping pictures with their kids. Dylan had just stepped up to the table when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
"Well looks like Springfield beat us here."
She turned already knowing who it was. his signature smirk firmly in place. Eric stood beside him, hands in his pockets, looking slightly more subdued but no less amused. Behind them, Antonio loomed tall and imposing, his presence commanding even without a single word muttered.
