Pretty, popular, and wealthy: Peyton Buckley is the daughter of a perfect family, the face of a perfect school, and the owner of a perfect life.
Or so people think.
Peyton will struggle with the idea of perfection while she strives to be signed with...
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I woke up this morning at 5:30 a.m. to go on a five mile run around my neighborhood. The air surrounding me is brisk and the front lawns, which belong to the homes around me, are covered in a layer of light rain from the night before. I find myself pulling the sleeves of my blue Nike hoodie over my hands in an attempt to keep them warm.
30 minutes pass and now I'm breathing heavily on my porch. I hear the sound of crackling bacon and soft piano coming from our living room's open window. My next door neighbor, Nancy, is starting her car, we share a brief wave before she shuffles back inside, I take note of her pinstriped blazer. She must've gotten the promotion she wanted, I can't help but smile for her. I take five more minutes before I go inside.
"Good morning Peyton, how was the run?" My mother calls from the kitchen where she's flipping chocolate chip pancakes, my favorite.
I walk over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, "It was good, I think the Benson's got a new car," I make small talk while hoping up in the kitchen island for a seat.
"Well Rachel did just turn 16, maybe it's hers!" My mother thrives off of knowing everything about everyone in our neighborhood. I have a feeling that her life goal is to be better than all of our peers, though she'd never admit it. "Or maybe Jordan just came back from college for spring break. Can you believe he got a full ride to Texas Tech?"
That's when I chose to tune out, only giving the occasional nod. Sadly, my plan to zone out the rest of the morning is ruined when I hear my dad joging down the stairs, seconds later entering the kitchen. He ruffles my hair, "morning kiddo! How'd the run go? Reach a new PR yet?" He asks while turning on the Keurig and digging through the cabinets for his 'Worlds Best Dad' mug. This conversation has been part of our morning routine for the last month.
Dad asks me how my morning run went and if I have gotten to a new personal record. I tell him it was good, and that I haven't yet. He tells me that if I pushed a little harder I could get faster and that he'd train me if I wanted. I tell him that I'd keep his offer in mind. He reminds me that it's a shame I missed track sign ups, but cross country tryouts are only a few months away, and that's when mother interferes.
"She can't run cross country Dave, she doesn't have time!" she yells from the stove, "She'll be traveling with Vogue by then!"
"Scouts are already asking about her just from her track stats last season, I'm just saying that she should explore her options, Jane!" And by options he means following in his footsteps and being a Legacy at Baylor University.
Last year I ran track in hopes to get my dad off my back, however, I was surprisingly good at it and ever since he's been begging me to tryout for cross country. Honestly, I would tryout in a heartbeat, but mother has me busy with her dream of being a model. Once a week I go to a casting, the people tell me that I'm too short for runway, but they'd love to give me a contract for photography. My mother tells them no, and then we leave and she plans the next one.
