The Uncanny Accuracy of Fate

Chapter 1

1

* I've looked at clouds from both sides now. From up and down, and still somehow, it's cloud illusions I recall, I really don't know clouds at all*

I blearily roll over and grab my phone, silencing the alarm. Cursing the sweet sounds of the song I once loved, I make a mental note to change my alarm before I'm turned off to Joni Mitchell completely. I turn my head, briefly expecting to see Steven's slumbering figure lying next to me, before the events of the past week all come flooding back.

Steven telling me he didn't see a future for us. Me, tearfully begging him to stay. Then the next night, the other girl...with whom it didn't appear to be Steven's first time.

I shake my head a little, physically willing my brain to stop running through the sequence for the umpteenth time. As Renée reminded me as I cried into her shoulder on that horrible night, replaying and reliving these moments was only going to get me further sucked into my already formidable fortress of self-loathing and pity.

So instead, I was jumping into my newly single life headfirst. For months, I'd been promising myself that I'd go do a masterclass with the Graham Windham kids as part of the Eliza Project, but things kept coming up. When I'd called Cynthia, the Graham Windham arts endowment coordinator, and offered to come in as soon as possible to work with the kids, she jumped at the chance. Morgan (who'd helped me design the program) and I had rented a studio at Ripley-Grier and were going to perform for, play improv games with, and answer the questions of the foster kids who'd expressed interest in our program. Then, the kids would get to see the show tonight and meet the cast afterwards. I'd learned almost too much about the inadequacies of the foster care system through my work with Graham Windham, and I hoped that we'd be able to provide these kids with a day they'd always remember.

I glance at my watch, realizing that I'd been staring off into space for who knows how long, and jump when I realize I need to be out the door in 10 minutes. I throw on a long sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots, grabbing a scarf and puffy vest at the last minute as I remember how cold I'd been on my way to the theatre the day before. Grabbing an apple from the fridge and the coffee I'd made in my Steven-filled daze earlier, I hurtle out the door only 3 minutes behind schedule.

Screeching onto the platform, I slide between the doors of the 10:07 train as they threaten to close on my head. Mentally high-fiving myself, I pull out my phone where I have a text from Morgan asking me if I wanted coffee and 2 each from Jasmine and Renée "just checking in!" I may play Eliza, but I'll always be the baby to those two. Dashing off a quick "No thanks I'm good! See you soon!" to Morgan and telling myself I'll deal with my sisters concerns later, I get off the train at the 34th St Penn Station stop.

Morgan, Cynthia, and I cluster around the piano in the corner as Cynthia explains more about the kids we're going to be teaching today.

"They're all incredible kids," she says, "they've just been handed a really crappy lot in life." Her passion for the program is evident as she continues to speak, and I smile, thinking about how much Eliza would've loved her.

Cynthia leaves to go get the kids from their bus out front, and Morgan and I begin to go over our own game plan. Though we'd both taught student groups before, they'd been primarily at MT intensives or arts schools, and we were both aware of the new challenges that we could be facing with this group of kids. As clichéd as this sounds, I don't want to let Eliza down, and my heart races as my mind begins to pace through all the possible ways this could go horribly wrong.

Sooner than my sweaty palms would've liked, Cynthia's back, this time with about 20 kids, mostly girls, ranging from about 11-17 in tow. My heart sinks as I realize that many of these kids may have been in the system most of their lives, and that people's animosity towards adopting teenagers means that many of them would stay in it until they aged out. The kids file in, clumping in 3s or 4s, with many shooting uncertain glances towards where Morgan and I stand in the back of the room. As I look around with a gaze that I'm sure displays just as much nervousness, one small girl catches my attention. She looks to be maybe 15 or 16, with 2 long dutch braids that hang down well past her shoulders. I notice she's the only one not whispering in a group, and instead is gazing around the room with a look of awe on her face. As she circles to me, we make eye contact and after a moment's hesitation, she returns my smile with a hesitant one of her own.

With newfound determination, I glance at Morgan to make sure she's ready to go then take a deep breath.

"Hi everyone!"

********

Boom there it is. This was in my brain and it wouldn't leave so here it is now for you. Do you love it? Hate it? I wanna know fill me in.

Did anyone get my Once on This Island reference bc if so who are you and why are you so obsessed with OOTI you nerd (it's okay me too)