More and more rejection letters came, and I realized college probably wasn't my thing. Mom told me to not lose hope, to not give up; truth is, I gave up before I sent any applications in. I wasn't qualified for any of these colleges. I knew how to make clothes, and that was my skill-not enough for NYU, that's for sure. I came from nothing, expecting to be something. In reality, I was nothing.
Sitting around waiting for a letter to tell me if I had a future or not was not cutting it for me, I wanted more action than this. I needed it.
"It will come," Mom pitched in, "I say, the college that is going to accept you wants to wait for the perfect moment to send your letter. That way, they will give you just enough time to prepare." That smile always brightened my mood.
I didn't feel like arguing with my mom about how I wouldn't get that acceptance letter anytime soon, even though she was convinced I was. Almost out of high school, I had no clue where to go; no colleges were accepting me, and that's where I wanted to go. I don't know how many applications I had filled out, sent in, and waited anxiously for an answer. I felt like I was missing my chance to pursue my dream job.
Ever since I could hold a pencil, or sewing needle, I'd been sewing basically my whole life. Mom says I got it from her and grandma, which reigned true because they are both seamstresses. My wardrobe consisted of my own designs and creations that were different from what everyone else was wearing. I'd defied all the trends, learning what was coming next, not what was now.
My whole life was fashion.
"Fallon, your ride is here," Mom looked out the window drinking her usual tea, ushering me out with an absentminded hand.
School; it hated me, and I hated it. At least I had someone to bear through it with. Nick, my best friend, always had my back since we were little. We've been with each other through thick and thin, and never kept secrets from each other. He was my brother, but mostly my best friend.
I rushed out of the door, carrying what was left of breakfast. Today, I felt glamorous; not wearing my own creations, but wearing what seemed was practically made for me. I was wearing a silver H&M pencil skirt that came above the knee, complemented by red strapped sandals by H&M as well. A tucked in black spaghetti strap blouse was underneath a white Gucci knit sweater. Not forgetting the purse, I had a black Chanel clutch in my hand.
Every day, I walked out of the door, and did a breakdown of my outfit before I actually left. I had a weird habit of mentally looking at my outfit and thinking about it in a magazine somewhere. Sometimes I fantasized about someone stopping me in the streets to ask me where I got my sense of fashion or to ask where I got my style from. I had a clever response prepared like "I've always had style and a sense of the future." Or "It comes so naturally I think I was born with it."
"Are you ready for school?" Nick started to back out of the driveway, "New shoes?" he chuckled. I folded my legs around so he couldn't see my shoes. Damn, is it that obvious? No, he practically sees my entire wardrobe daily so he would notice new shoes, I thought.
"Ready for school: no, new shoes: yes." I smiled. I had a new design in mind that I wanted to get started on, and I wanted to skip school to do it. It was a cross between a cocktail dress, and a bubble dress; totally fresh and new. Shit, I almost forget to tell Nick about the letter from New York.
"Hey, I got a letter from New York yesterday." I said neutrally. I didn't want to give anything away, or give an impression that I got in.
"Really, what did it say? You got in, didn't you?" He was getting hyped up for bad news.
"No, I didn't get in. Rejected yet again, I swear no one is going to let me in. I know I'm not the most qualified person, but I am the hardest worker anyone will ever get." Nick knew I deserved to be in every single one of those colleges, but my qualifications were crap. I'd applied for every scholarship available, and tried every possible way to get in. I did care about getting into a college; I didn't want anyone to know about it, though.
