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 courtyard shimmered in the morning sunlight, alive with the hum of voices and the bright hues of royal blue caps and gowns. Dylan stood near the fountain, smoothing the wrinkles out of her gown. Her cap sat slightly crooked, but she hadn't bothered to fix it—she was too distracted by the swirl of emotions in the air. Katie was the first to join her, practically glowing under her gown, which didn't quite hide the white cocktail dress she'd picked for later.
"You know," Katie began, looking around the courtyard as other kids began to arrive, "I can't believe this is the last time we'll be here together. Like, for real."
Dylan sighed, glancing at the building behind them. "Yeah, it feels weird. Like, I spent most of the year hating this place, and now I'm...kind of sad to leave."
"'Kind of'?" Katie teased, bumping Dylan's shoulder. "You were tearing up the last time you slept over."
"Lies," Dylan shot back, though her smirk gave her away.
Eric and Carter appeared next, walking side by side. Eric had managed to make even the shapeless graduation gown look neat, with his pressed dress shirt and tie just visible at the neckline. Carter, on the other hand, looked like he'd already been through a windstorm—his tie was askew, and his cap threatened to slip off with every step.
"Morning, ladies," Carter greeted them with a grin. "Ready to say goodbye to high school forever?"
"Speak for yourself," Katie replied. "I'm still clinging to my throne."
"Of course you are," Eric said with a small laugh. He adjusted his cap, the tassel falling perfectly into place. "You'd think we'd be used to this by now. All the lasts—last game, last party, last prom..."
"Last time Carter trips on his way up the stairs," Nicholas cut in as he approached.
"Funny," Carter retorted glancing back. "We'll see who trips when we're up on stage."
Nicholas smirked, his gown slightly unzipped to reveal a sleek striped polo underneath. His cap sat at a slight angle, tassel swaying lazily with each step. "I'm good under pressure," he said, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.
Tiffany and Marissa were the last to join, Tiffany's hair twisted into an elaborate updo that probably took hours, and Marissa's dress peeking out from beneath her gown in a flash of soft pastel pink. Marissa was already clutching a tissue in one hand, her face flushed from crying.
"Okay, who's betting that Marissa cries during the national anthem?" Katie asked, crossing her arms.
"During?" Dylan said. "She's already crying."
"I'm not crying," Marissa insisted, though her sniffle betrayed her.
"It's allergies," Tiffany said, rolling her eyes. "She's been saying that all morning."
