Tracing Steps to Dreamers.

A groan stopped at my throat, there had been a reason I had been watching her calls. I had not wanted to speak to my mother for as long as possible, but my carelessness had put me into another poorly thought out situation. Being ranked number one, but having no common sense, the irony.

“You know how much I love swimming! You were the one who first signed me up for it, Mother.”

“I only intended for you to be in there until your real talent came up!”

“Mom! That is my real talent!”

“That reminds me, we’re flying you out here tomorrow to meet some of your father’s newest friends, they have a son around you’re age, and they wanted you two to meet.”

How that and swimming were related were the least of my worries, I had no plans on flying over to France this weekend or any weekend as a matter of fact. Avoiding my mother was my first goal.

“I have plans this weekend!” I called into the phone, shaking my head at the looks I received.

“Cancel them, you’re coming over, end of story.”

And it ended with an abrupt dial tone. This was how our relationship went, we only saw each other when it was necessary, I was basically their little ploy to get know more world scholars who had a child my age and another who wanted into Harvard. It was part of the deal that had gotten me sent to Salem with Amy, I had to return home on the occasions they needed me, they just did not think about cell phones and caller id.

“Well, I guess I’m jetting off for France, literally, could someone kill me before I’m forced into something I would rather not get into?” I groaned, slamming my forehead into the wall a few times. Sometimes, I hated the power my parents had; this was one of those times. I sighed, pressing all my weight against the structure in front of me, I was tired of all this bullshit my parents put me through. I had half the mind to call her back and tell her off, but then I remembered, they could transfer me out of this institute any second they wished, if I didn’t follow the rules.

Biting my nails, I turned back around, “Guys? I don’t want to go!”

“You’ll get transferred out if you don’t do it, you know that,” Amy concluded.

“I know, I know, but I just don-“

I was interrupted, the second time of that day, this time by the steady stream of teachers that walked in. Dr. Ellen, Dr. Kim, Dr. Smith, all professors in their subject, each one of them was here to help us master our chosen profession. Dr. Kim glided over to me, her pink blouse and black trousers kept her down to earth while keeping her teaching position intact.

“Ready to get into the medical field?” she said with a cheery full tone, yet sarcastic tones filled the very depths of her words. She knew how much I hated doctors and things that dealt with them, all my life I had dreamed of becoming an interior designer, but my mother forced me into this major. I know, I should stand up for myself, but I couldn’t. I was weak; I admit that, I would rather have my best friend with me then argue and lose everything all together.

The lesson passed slowly, each minute ticking by, my thoughts fled my brain, searching for their own outlet in the fields that my mind had produced. I would rather imagine grass growing than work on these memorizing diseases, truth be told. I groaned, trying to focus on the words in front of me, but things went a little haywire in my head. Spots of pinks and blues flashed back and forth, from the brightest shades to the dullest ones before fading into the darkness. I tilted my head, the little me inside my head chasing after each and every dot.

“Zephyr? Zephyr? You there? Class is over now,” Dr. Kim lightly shook me, her tiny hands clasped around my shoulders. I grumbled, my daydream had been ruined by my professor.

“Wait, what time is it?!” I shot up, patting my blazer pockets for my phone, the one that constantly kept me on top of everything in my busy schedule.

“A bit past five, you wouldn’t wake until now…”

“Shi-“ I was hit by a glare, “shoot! I’m sorry, I’m late for swimming practice, and Coach Martha doesn’t like…” my hands fumbled to grab everything at once, it didn’t work out too well. My feet soon had me running to the gym, less than a mile over from my current location. I had five minutes to reach the place, adding onto the fact I had to get dressed. Rushing my feet as fast as possible, I managed to make it into the building, a few seconds ahead of required show up time. I was soon rushed off into the changing room with my gym bag, and by the time my vision had adjusted, I was standing next to the pool, a kickboard, fins, a pull buoy, power paddles, swim cap, and goggles in hand. My hair had already been tossed up in a sloppy ponytail in the few seconds I had left in front of the mirrors after changing as quickly as possible.

With the blow of a whistle, I dove into the slightly colder water, soon followed by my teammates. The sounds of water stirring only the slightest were like music to my ears, this was what I had always dreamed of, but why did it seem like I was dishonoring the family by doing such a thing?

My arms fought against the water, each stroke putting in more momentum than the one before it, gaining speed, I somersaulted in the water, my legs kicking off the wall, sending me off in another streamline. It was a repeat and a repeat for several hundred more yards, but I loved every single second of it. Growing up, it wasn’t the piano that made me happy, nor was it the gardens that surrounded the mansion, but of the pools that stretched for what seemed like miles.

Breathless by the end of our shorter two hour practice, I was the last one to climb out of the pool, relaxing my tense muscles in the water. A slow clapping shook me out of my escapade from reality, turning, I saw my worst nightmare. She was clad in a Versace dress, her face freshly powdered even after a long tedious flight straight from Paris.

“M-mother, what are you doing here?”

“Stuttering, what happened to all those etiquette classes we signed you up for as a child?”

“I’m not a child anymore, what are you doing here?” I growled back, drying my hair thoroughly with one of the crested towels that were laid out for swimmers. I had no patience after having gone through so much practice in one day.

“I came to escort you, personally. I, for one, knew you weren’t going to show, so here I am to make sure you board that plane without any trouble,” her hands smoothed out her ironed straight chiffon clothing. I guess I could be known as the family letdown, I was one of the two children between Darien and Kendra Taylors, my brother was what you could call the type who seemed to accomplish each goal of his. From gaining entrance to MIT, his future as a game designer was set, it didn’t matter what job you got, not to my parents, but which college you went to. That was the key of what the Taylors were made of.

I murmured a few profanities under my breath, and then slung the bulky bag over my shoulder, heading toward the showers. I would soon be off on a flight to Paris to see my, oh so wonderful parents, what kid wouldn’t dream of this? Jetting off to Paris on a few hours of notice. That’s right, me. I didn’t get why commoners dreamed of having jets and yachts, it only prohibited less time away from your parents when they felt the need to obtain you out of your life.

The hours seemed to flash quickly before my eyes completely opposite to what happens when I’m in class, but by the time I realized just where I was, the ground was already thousands of feet under us. I wondered what would happen if I tried to jump through the emergency exit doors… a brief anime styled cartoon version of me being wrestled to the ground by security guards passed through my thoughts, leaving me with a horrified look upon my face, which mother dearest just had to comment on, “If you leave your face like that, you’re bound to look like Lindsay Lohan before a year is up.”

I didn’t even bother to turn around, keeping my pace steady toward the showering area. Walking into the open space reserved for washing, I hurriedly dropped my bag, my hands already in the midst of searching for my phone. The message, “Someone, please save me before I attempt to commit suicide,” was soon sent out to all T5 members.

Replies soon hit my phone, the first one was Amy, of course she would have her phone with her. It was very surprising when she didn’t; it was her personal secretary. That and the fact that the only blonde thing that actually stayed with her was her love for gossip, no offense to the non-gossip loving blondes out there. She could tell you anything and everything about a random person you would point out on campus, or run off, and find you a few hours later with it all. Either way, she was the gossip out of our group, if she didn’t know it, it probably didn’t happen.

Your mother sucks, doesn’t she?

I quickly typed a reply to her, telling her exactly what she had planned for me.

May I watch while pointing and laughing?

Exactly what Kaleb would say, I could have predicted it, honestly.

Ah, fuck her in the ass then.
….sorry, I knew it was an emergency and all, but I was twirling a tennis racket, and you know…

I let a laugh escape, oh Brice, oh Brice.

I knew I wouldn’t be receiving a reply from Amelia for a few hours to the least, she was probably outside serenading birds or something of the nature works. I may not know her as well as the others, but I knew her enough to give off this prediction. My fingers flashed across the screen, explaining to the rest what my mother had told me already. Their responds varied between comedic things to curse words courtesy of Brice.

--

Tossing and turning in bed was not my best idea, especially when I was woken up only a few hours into my daily intake of sleep by the chauffer, sometimes I hated my family. Couldn’t my mother have the decency to walk through the hallway and knock politely against the wooden door? Of course not, she was Kendra Taylors, insert eye roll here.

Rubbing my eyes, I threw open the door, not caring about the horrified look on his face seeing me in my morning mess. My hair was thrown up in a ponytail before I slept, a wet one, actually. And now, dried and crinkled to fit against my pillow, didn’t seem like the best morning present to show someone. I closed my eyes, waving my hand behind me to tell him to leave me alone.

“Miss, you’re about to r-“

“FUCK!”

And down I went against the hard floor, whoever decided it would be best to have hardwood floors in dorm rooms should be sent to an asylum, obviously they had not met Brice or me. My eyes shot open upon the impact, “At least I’m not dead asleep anymore,” I muttered to myself.

“I’ll be out in a bit; my bags are over… somewhere. They’re… easy to spot, I would say? Anyways, I’m off to get ready, you get those, bring them down, and don’t mention anything to my mother,” I nodded at him before helping myself off the floor and into the bathroom. Trying to make the best of my mangled mess on my head, I ended up straightening the bad parts and throwing it up in a side pony tail, along with a ribbon and a headband for the front of my hair. Very relaxing, and I’ll probably get criticized for it on the way to the airport, oh well. She’ll most likely freak when we reach Paris and realize that everything I packed were sweatpants, basketball shorts, and overly big t-shirts. This is what happens when you wake a girl up at five to get on a flight which she would rather not go on.

I grabbed a white flowy cardigan pairing them up with a navy tank top and white shorts with the Abercrombie moose in navy covering the whiteness. Abercrombie would be the most preppy I would even dare to dress, but as usual, my mom decided to pass all the boundaries and fill my closet with useless pieces from Burberry, Prada, and basically anything from Fashion Week. She doesn’t get the signs that well, even when I took the time to put on a pure white Vera Wang dress to paint my room with. The dress actually turned out well, it was like a blank canvas that got turned into its own masterpiece. I never did have another chance to wear it after that, it was soon replaced a doppelganger, but this time, brand new as it had been before. I wasn’t very happy; I actually did spend a lot of time ruining the dress to perfection. You just have to learn, money can get you a lot of things in life.

Following the man standing outside my door, I ended up at a black limo, nothing that I wasn’t familiar to around my mother.

“Hi dear, how wa- you’re wearing that?” her eyes turned into mere slits. I looked down on myself, what was wrong? I was classy, classic, prep looking enough for my mom, comfortable, and it all matched. I compared it to my mother’s one of a kind blouse and skirt matches from Versace or someone around that region, I didn’t keep track of those clothes anymore, to find the latest fashions, I could either open my closet or my mom’s.

“Won’t that get a little wrinkly? I mean, it doesn’t even look comfortable compared to those, what, five inch pumps you’re wearing?” My mom was so insane, she was one of those people who followed the statement, “Beauty hurts,” or some mumbo jumbo, it was all useless to my ears. I mean, who goes to a banquet to teach five year old girls to perfect way to drink tea, apply lipgloss, and things you should know by common sense. We’re really trusting the next generation when one girl started eating her gloss? I mean, if it was anything near a pretty color, I would have tried it, but she practically stuffed it in her mouth. Talk about vomit worthy.

Anyways, continuing our trip to hell. I was debating on whether or not to risk the whole open-the-door-and-roll-to-get-away-from-the-rapist, or in my case, my evil mother. I’m surprised that she didn’t have me handcuffed to a door or something; I knew she had considered it, but she would never have to nerve to ask for someone to order it. She may be high class and rich, but she had no guts for things that could lower the family’s reputation. It was like, how I was forced to play piano as I grew up, like any other rich little girl in the Paris region. It was that or violin, and after trying to strum the fourth one I had yet to break, my mother quickly transferred me to piano. There, I learned the tricks to playing with pencils. If it wasn’t the rubber pencil, the walrus, the pencil trick, or alien antennas, I would have died the first day. The end of that class, she bribed the tutor to never tell anyone of it. That was the end of the Taylor prodigy.

About thirty minutes passed before we arrived at the airport, the chauffer quickly grabbing our bags and lead the way to the terminal. Waiting for the boarding was even worse than I thought, between the noises of families scurrying everywhere to the tight lipped glares my mother gave to anyone who dared to interrupt her magazine time, it was almost a relief to board the jet. Grabbing he window seat in 4A, the flight attendants only shared a look that asked each other, “How the heck did someone dressed in Abercrombie get a first class seat?”

When my mother arrived, they shut their traps fast. I guess you could call my mother a socialite, actually, a big one. She was famous for being famous, I guess you could say. She just happened to be in the right places at the right times, and before my father, she had been with a few celebrities. She had made her few loops around the fame, but she fell for my father. Not your typical love story, but enough love to conceive me, and stick with the father, Before my mother could even open her mouth, I hurriedly stabbed headphones into my ears and turned on my iPhone, letting the music drift me off to a quiet slumber.

“-now seven p.m. I hope you enjoyed your flight with Delta Airlines.”

Ergh, my hands rubbed at my eyes, insisting on blocking the rays of light from the overhead, “Mom, what’s going on?”

….

“Mom!”

Oh fuck, well, isn’t this just great. I looked around in terror, where was I? Was I put on board another plane and set on my way to Japan? I can’t speak Japanese! Great, time to die in hell against all the language barriers, I could make something up like Carter from the Rush Hour series, but that never worked well for him either….

What to do, what to do…

“Zephyr, your mother is waiting for you in the terminal,” a lady dressed in the navy uniform of a flight attendant chided me from across the plane. I nodded, slowly processing it to memory. Grabbing a huge purse that could put a few celebrities to shame, because well, this thing could probably fit my kitchen sink into it too, I hurried through the plane and out the exit.

The rest of the time at the airport were a blur, between avoiding everyone to finding my Louis Vuitton luggage pieces that were getting old, as my mom had told me, before announcing she had a brand new set of Burberry ones at the mansion. What the heck? I have never even used these until now, they actually sat in the back of my closet until my mother decided to make time to visit me, slash drag me home.

“Make sure you wear something nice, “ meaning, wear a dress, “it’ll end a little late,” meaning, no calling your friends and complaining, you need sleep to wake up early because people like us[/] did not sleep late. My mom already started to lecture me, and we only started on our two hour car ride back to the home I nicknamed the Wolf Den. Why? Oh, it sounded so kickass, and you could get eaten alive if you weren’t careful.

I hated my home life, and I hadn’t even made it home yet! See, this is what my mother puts me through every time we’re together. And you wonder why I don’t answer her phone calls anymore, geez. If you had to live with this woman, you would have grey hairs after the first day, and then she would go off on another tangent. Hence causing more grey hairs, and the cycle continues.

“An old college friend of your father’s is going to be visiting tomorrow, he’s bringing his son. You’re going to be woken up at five to be dressed and ready at six to meet him.”

I snorted; her grimace told me exactly how much she had appreciated the noise, “Dude, mom, chill. I’ll be ready before then, Wake me up around five thirty.”

“Five or you won’t be able to swim while you’re here,” she countered, knowing that swimming was my weakness. It was better than any other sport I had ever tried, and I never got tired of the freedom it granted me.

“Whatever.” I twisted to face the opposite side of the limousine and pouted. I was acting like a child, I know, but you would do the same if you had to wake up at a fucking random time to entertain a random kid you have never met before. I withdrew my phone from the front pocket of my cardigan and started to play an entrancing game of Tap Tap Revolution. Halfway through the game, I heard my mom start chatting on the phone, something about fish eggs or some nasty shit like that. I don’t even know what happens around here anymore.

The game stopped when my phone vibrated with a text from Amy. My eyes quickly skimmed the words before clicking on the Reply button underneath. How is it over there? Find any cute guys yet?

Fingers tapped the vertical screen skillfully and the message was sent. Appearing in green, “More like spent a car ride from hell, please save me.”