Vivian is caught shoplifting, causing her parents to reignite an old tradition. They send her to Clear Lake Academy, a tight-laced academy for girls. There she meets a childhood friend and is forced to confront emotions she didn't understand back th...
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My hair dye was cheap. I bought it on impulse and dyed my hair straight black. But it was fading from the roots now, to the chocolate brown I was born with.
I snuck kisses from Tay between classes and we'd hang out after class sometimes. But most days I didn't see her.
Things melted together when I was alone. I had a roommate, but I didn't like her and she didn't like me.
The classes were getting harder as the year went. I often found myself fading away from the room, letting the hours pass by without a thought. I would panic after coming back to earth, writing down everything on the whiteboards or chalkboards.
A quadrilateral is a four-sided shape and an Equilateral has all its sizes equal.
John C. Calhoun believed the tariff of 1828 was unconstitutional.
All essays must be in MLA format.
Water's polarity can decrease attraction between ions of different charges.
After every day I would fall onto my dorm bed till I eventually fell asleep. Sometimes I cried, and I didn't really understand why. The tears just came out of me and I wasn't even sad. I didn't really feel much at all... except when I was with Tay.
I'd see her now, down the stone path, with the sun hanging on the latter half of the sky. She was somewhere beyond the foggy glass plates of the greenhouse.
This school had everything anyone could want. If it wasn't for all the horrible things it also had, maybe it would be like home.
I opened the door and it slammed behind me. The air was warm, but it wasn't suffocating, a lot like back home.
Gigantic grass brushed up against my arm as I walked down the row of plants. Potted plants were hung from the ceiling and some under yellow lights. The glass panels were just like boxes of pure light.
At the other end of the greenhouse, there was a white metal table and chairs. Taylor sat in one, her legs crossed. On a polka-dotted tablecloth, a little tea set was laid out.
She took a sip from her cup, "I know you aren't the tea-time kind of person, but we do have pretty limited options."
I shrugged it off, "How'd you get this stuff?"
She explained while I pulled the chair back and sat down, "I befriended one of the women who work in the kitchen. She's a nice lady, let me borrow this stuff- just don't break it."
Chuckling, I teased, "You have no faith in me, do you?"
"Not really," She sarcastically replied.
We talked for a while. I told her all the places I'd take her if we were in New Mexico, like Bob's Diner that was expanding into a small chain since being founded forever ago. She remembered the place, and the little festival it always catered at.
Bob was a strange dude, but no one could deny his skill in cooking burgers.
Taylor told me that every weekend she could go out into town, but usually was too busy. I couldn't go out there for a few more months, but she said it was a nice little town.
There was even a big waterpark where a lot of Clear Lake parents took their kids in the summertime. Since her Dad lived in Portland now, he'd drive down and take her a few times during the warmer months. It was nice to relax, something that she didn't get to do much.
Maybe 40 minutes had gone by when Taylor's eyes met her watch. She stood straight up in a panic.
"Uhh..." She took a heavy breath, "I'm sorry to ask you this but- can you take this stuff to the kitchen?"
"What's going on?"
She took a hesitant step away from the table, "I have something coming up- and I have to be ready for it- but I lost track of time!"
Taylor pulled at her sleeves and stretched her neck, moving around with the speed of her thoughts.
"No worries," I said, "I'll take care of the stuff."
She squeaked out a weak thank you, running off and leaving the plants to sway behind her.
A little metal tray was leaned next to the table. I grabbed it and put the set away, teacup by teacup.
I imagined the crack of stone tiles were a tightrope high above the city. I took slow careful steps. The air was humid on that hot day, but there was enough rushing wind to balance it out. It was dangerous, it was daring, it would be my greatest achievement since the walk over a canyon. The whole world was watching.
I came up to the door and turned the handle, leaving the greenhouse. The tea set rattled with my steps.
The dining hall wasn't exactly where Harry Potter ate his sandwiches, but it was a hell of a lot fancier than public school.
The chairs were wooden instead of plastic and attached to the tables. We were given actual legit napkins and plates. The food wasn't too bad either, though I'd kill for a burger every once and a while.
The kitchen was at the end of the room. Through a floppy door, I could hear someone inside. I knocked but it just made the door open, so I shrugged and went in.
A thin man was washing the plates in a big silver sink. Clear Lake had a small amount of male staff, my math teacher, a bunch of janitors, and cooks in the kitchen too, apparently.
He looked at me and waved, "Hello there! Need something?"
I managed a small wave holding the tray, "Just returning something."
"Well then, no problem." He had a slight accent, Swedish, or something. "Leave it on the counter, I can take care of it later."
Something caught my eye as I did. There were pictures all over the place. Some were behind frames, leaned up in the corners, other's taped up onto the wall. Some of them were pictures of pets, but mostly school or family photos.
The man noticed I wasn't leaving and shut off the faucet. He walked over and crossed his arms proudly.
"It's a tradition," He said. "To put up photos of the family. They stay up here when people leave- unless they leave under particularly dramatic circumstances."
My eyes fell on a certain photograph. It was one of those old ones from the '90s with those vibrant colors and a weird mix of good and bad quality. The woman there was sitting in a floral-patterned chair. She wore those jeans with the wide bell bottoms and a pastel blue shirt. She was middle-aged and smiling.
"That one's Susan Quimby's mother. Sweet woman, her mother was before she passed."
Old age softens some people, hardens others. I wondered at that moment if it would soften my mother.
I'd gotten a letter from her yesterday, skimmed it, and threw it in the wastebasket. Nothing new, just a page and a half of light threat and I love yous
"That ones my family," He pointed to another photo, "Took it before I moved to America."
They were a big family, laughing together at a picnic. A snotty kid, an old lady, an awkward kid, and a lot of others. They were close together, enjoying being around each other.
I couldn't smile. My family didn't have photos all together like that.
I stepped out a few seconds later, rushing awkwardly away from the dining hall.
