We've all heard and devoured the classic trope involving the shenanigans of a jock, a princess, a nerd, and a criminal. Although who knows of the trouble capable of ensuing when The Breakfast Club isn't PG-13 anymore?
That's the 2007 freshman batch...
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17th July 2007 Arlington University
"Did anyone find out about Kylie's whereabouts ?" George asks, leaning on the torn apart, plastic wrapped seat of his bike.
We're gathered at the parking spot of the University, some pondering over Kylie's sudden absence and some putting a show as best as one can after a hearty meal of grilled cheese and opiates. Now I had no specific plans of looking in the eyes of my perpetrators after what happened at Daniel's bistro on thirteenth. Yes, I love Archie. Is that what you want to hear?
But I also can't afford to stay out of these conversations out of pride, or it'd hurt me in another place bruises become evident.
"Well, we have tried our luck at almost every place she could possibly be found. Her cellphone is still switched off, her dorm friends haven't seen her since then, and even the cigarette shop owner down the street hasn't made a sale with her in the longest time. I don't know about you guys, but I am having a really weird feeling about all this." Archie chips in.
Meanwhile Emma stands there perched over one of Archie's shoulders, gobbling on her finger nails, a describable poor attempt to keep the truth from spilling out of her parched lips. She looks as though she will puke everything out with just one slight poke and I'm not paying for the awakening of the weakling in her. Eventually, I am compelled to cover up her queasiness. "I don't know, Kylie is pretty spontaneous. Maybe she went on a road trip or something." I do know Kylie's notorious for creating ripples and turning a ghost while she entertains the waves, but who was the last fish in that sea, I had no idea.
"We can't affirm that, Mia. I think it's time that we call her parents." George looks between us, awaiting a response stuck in our throats like a fur ball. At what point in our muddled history did George and Kylie get close, I didn't have the slightest clue and the missing record didn't seem to go all that well by me. Archie nods in agreement, "we should do it soon."
It's happening. Too soon, in fact, and before I can change their plans, Emma sprints out of the parking lot— the dried autumn leaves swaying along the trail of her hurried footsteps. I've never understood this girl, what she thinks, what she does, but I have learnt to not make the mistake of underestimating her tactful mind, the clown's card waiting to trump you behind the innocent smile.
The situation takes an awkward turn, but Emma's only partly responsible for the damage. When the princess flees, both the saviours decide to run to her rescue, giving rise to an unsaid tussle between the two. I have to pull George aside before anyone gets seriously hurt.
Letting a few minutes pass, I follow the mind map I made, of Archie's overtly evident urgency. I pass by a series of empty classrooms and the drab scrawled over the bolted doors, before I come to an abrupt halt and hear muffled sobs making their way out the confines of the band practice room. I stand aligned to the creak flashing light, trying to make sense of their hushed voices.
