California

Chapter Eight

No words found in the good old english dictionary could ever accurately express how glad I was that Clareview High did not have a dress code. Well, actually it did have a dress code, but it said absolutely nothing about uniforms. Back in Seattle I had to wear this ridiculous white shirt tucked into a gray skirt that went all the way down to my knees. It was terrible. At Clareview - and apparently every other school in LA, according to Amanda - the kids only had to be reasonable: no ripped jeans or revealing tops; no swimwear or hats of any kind; and no flamboyant jewelry. That last rule was sort of abstract and often disregarded, especially by the it girls, who lost no opportunity to showcase their diamonds around campus.

Those were all Amanda's words, of course. I'd never been there to know that for a fact.

That's why I took her comments into consideration and spent a good hour browsing through my closet in search for the perfect outfit. I wanted something that made me look cute but in a non-showy way. Something that spoke to my obvious new girl in town title, yet didn't make it seem like I was actually trying. It was hard, but eventually it came to me: it was still summer and I had to find something cool to wear or I'd melt, so I picked out a nice pink skirt - shorter than those gray ones in Seattle, thank God - and a white top. Cool and casual. Nothing like those one-of-a-kind designer outfits those girls would probably wear just to turn some heads.

The night before school started I left the outfit on a hanger and put it on my doorknob. I liked to think ahead of something in order to feel more prepared when it actually happened. I went to sleep and woke up an hour early on Monday, well rested and slightly excited. I took a shower as soon as I got out of bed, as I usually did, but that didn't prevent me from feeling hot from the high temperature and scorching sun. The rain from a few days before came and went as does the night in summertime: brief and refreshing. Soon the heat mounted up again and I wondered how much longer it would last.

I got into the pink skirt and stylish white shirt and went down for breakfast. Mom had made me pancakes, my favorite morning meal, and I stacked a few on my plate as I sat across from her and dad. He was checking the news on his iPad - who needed the newspaper anymore? - while mom devoured yet another New York Times bestseller.

"On a scale of one to ten, how excited are you, honey?" Asked dad, setting down the tablet.

I felt like saying eleven, but I decided to downplay my anxiousness.

"Sort of a six, I guess."

"Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Clareview has one of the greatest approval ratings in LA and has the best team of college counselling in the West Coast. That should make things easier for you, Liv."

"I suppose so." I said, leaning into my second pancake.

I didn't like it much when dad talked numbers. That was one of the only things he did that I found annoying. He only ever made decisions based on statistics and concrete, researched data, like a robot. That literally killed the joy of having something nice and unexpected happen and substituted that for the certainty of something ordinary. Maybe I was too much of an adventurer, but it would drive me crazy to make every single decision of my life based on freaking numbers! I mean, live a little, right? Take chances. It was dad who got Hailey to give up on pursuing music, which she really liked and had real talent. He showed her numbers and reports to showcase the small percentage of people who managed to succeed in the music industry and that was enough to convince her. He later on researched the best Law Schools available and had her pick one. of course he only did that because he wanted what was best for her his own way. I mean, Columbia was cool and she was doubtlessly lucky to go there, but I knew that deep down she still wondered what would've happened if she had said no to dad and applied to Juilliard. Who knows.