The Color In Monochrome

Prologue

   Some things revolve around the term, "Sameness". The thought that everything is the same, and will stay the same for however long everything does not change. For me...I loved this word. I could do without change, because in my life, there was nothing that needed changing. I was on good terms with all the people I knew, I had my dreams and goals set out for me on a golden platter. I was in the clear for a comfortable life after high school. All I had to do was finish up the remaining seven months of Senior year, and I would walk toward a scholarship at my college.

   That's what I had planned. Abbey Wynters, named after Mom's favorite British television show "Downtown Abbey". Voted #1 most likely to succeed after high school in the yearbook. Currently smitten with my crush, who did, in fact, notice my existence. Not particularly tall, but gorgeously defined features and a well trained body made my breath go away. Not to mention his personality was perfect, he was "just the guy for a well-bred girl like me". So my friends say.

   His name: Lane Pfeiffer. Relationship status: Oh so lonely and single. Relationship to me? It's complicated. I'll get there soon enough. The big issue here is the end of my life as a teenager coming to pass in December; when I turn eighteen. It was already November. As much as I prepared for succeeding in life, it gave me butterflies thinking of leaving school for college.

   Anything gave me butterflies nowadays. Lane. My first love, at such a late age. Lane. And Lane. I hoped I wasn't obsessing like some crazy stalker. I'm sure everyone can relate when I say "First loves are everything". Mine just came a little late because of my focus on studying. Otherwise, it's all the same.

   My friends nearly collapsed when I told them he had asked me out on a date. I didn't think he would man up, but even I was anxious. It was tonight, at six, just before the sun would set completely. Living as a big city girl with Student Council and club activities after school, that left me with an hour and thirty minutes to get home on the subway, and get ready.

   Getting home was the worst. Right after my extracurricular activities, I immediately ran to the city transit that would take me to the closest subway station. When I got to the station, it was delayed. I didn't have time to figure out why, so I wrapped my  scarf around my neck and huffed through the cold to the next station. I hopped on the railcar, and glided home for thirty minutes.

   Then, I took another transit bus to the stop by the corner store in the suburbs. I ran home from there. My life couldn't be any busier, and Dad just happened to be packing their luggage for their trip to some lake. It was my parent's anniversary this weekend, and they were going to camp at a lake somewhere in Florida, so it wasn't cold. That meant they would leave me for a couple of days all alone in the house.

   I tried pushing the front door open, but it was no use. So I ran around the back, caught my breath so I didn't seem crazier than I was, and walked inside into the warmth. I threw my coat, mittens, scarf, and beanie onto the island along with my backpack, and rushed around upstairs.

   "What are you doing? I've never seen you in such a rush." Mom pops her head into my room as I flash through my closet looking for something decent, but not like I was trying so hard. I grabbed a dark blue sweater dress and my brown faux leather boots that reached over my calves so I wouldn't be cold.

   "I have a prior engagement." I said with a terrible British accent. I turn just long enough to see Mom's wonderful smile that always made anyone's day better and brighter. "A date. I can have a date right? I'm stressing." I took deep breaths, staying in place for three seconds, and then darted past Mom into the bathroom across the hall.

   "Of course you can have dates. Just don't stress too much or else you'll get white hairs. I'm still avoiding those like wildfire. It's hard with your father, though." I laughed, pushing dark brown hair from my sweaty forehead. Mom heads down the stairs. "Don't stay out later than eleven." She calls. Then, "Honey, why are all the bags against the door like we're trying to survive from a zombie raid?"