Status: hiatus-ish
Days Like Masquerades
i quit.
Curly-haired Jennifer throws the new issue of Pop Tiger at me. "What were you thinking, wearing checkered pants to an interview?" she asks, glaring at me. "Have you no sense of style?"
"They called you a little bohemian, a little rocker," says Brunette Jennifer. "That is not our style, and it definitely shouldn't be yours."
"We're supposed to look homogeneous, Gen. You're not supposed to stick out like a sore, poorly-dressed thumb," Blonde Jennifer says.
I look at the page, and the interview isn't exactly as I thought it would be. Some of my words are twisted around or deleted all together to make me sound more like a teen idol than a boring stick-in-the-mud. Somehow, my interests are now skateboarding and helping out at pet adoptions. Who knows where reading and listening to new music went.
Back in the apartment, Mom's beaming at me. "Sweetie, I'm so proud of you," she says, showing me the article about me. "I knew you could do it."
"Did you really." I grab an apple from the fridge. "I thought you moved out here to get remarried."
Mom glares. "Genevieve, I moved out here so you could achieve your dreams. I could care less about getting remarried. One marriage is enough for a lifetime."
For some people, one marriage isn't enough for a lifetime.
"Remember when you loved to sing in the car and you sang to those tapes when you were a kid? I'm just sorry I couldn't provide lessons for you earlier."
You mean Dad couldn't provide lessons for me earlier.
I walk out and find Kendall ready to knock on the door. "Hi," I greet awkwardly.
"Hi," he says, smiling. "Busy?"
"Just leaving. What's up?"
He grabs my arm and pulls me outside. I slam the door shut. "Is it really that urgent?" I ask as he drags me down the hallway. We step into a broom closet. "What's going on? And what is your problem?"
Kendall bites his lip. "Look. I heard the Jennifers talking, and they aren't happy." He takes in a deep breath. "They want to kick you out. For good."
I furrow my brow. "Why? I didn't do anything."
"...Something about going against the rules. Taking it too far."
"What rules?"
Kendall shrugs. "I don't know. That's all I heard. I thought it would be important to tell you."
I feel my face getting hot. "What...what do I do? I can't go to the Palm Woods school if I don't have a career in Hollywood, and I know my mom will want to move back to Washington if she finds out if I get kicked out--" I feel the tears slip down my eyes, and Kendall wipes them, frowning.
"Hey, hey. Calm down." Kendall pulls me into a tight hug. "We'll figure this out together, okay? Don't worry so much about it."
I open the door to the broom closet and sprint into the elevator, Kendall chasing and yelling at me to come back. When I get to the lobby, I see the Jennifers sitting at a table. I stomp towards them. Blonde Jennifer opens her mouth with a smug look on her face. "Don't bother saying anything to me, because you know what? I quit. I hate you. And your clothes. And your stupid rules," I grumble.
I turn around and march out of the Palm Woods to take a long, long walk.
> >
Around ten at night, I find my way back to the Palm Woods and take the elevator up to the apartment. Everything's packed up ready to go. Mom is nowhere to be found. I look into my room, and everything's gone--every poster, every picture, every shirt I own is gone.
I saunter down to the pool and see Kendall sitting on a chair, frowning as he stares off into space. I sit down next to him. "Hey," he says, facing me. "What's wrong?" he asks quietly.
I bury my face in my hands. Kendall rubs my back, silent. "Everything's gone," I say quietly. "Everything. My clothes, my old notebooks, my posters..."
"It'll be like a clean slate. You can start over," he replies, the blue hue of the pool reflecting across his face.
"Don't you get it? I don't want to start over!" I stand up. He steps towards me, but I push him away. "I just want to be me! I just want to be Genevieve Caulfield!"
Kendall stares at me. We're silent for a while.
"You don't have to be anything you don't want to be," he says, holding out a hand. "You can be whoever you want. But you have to ask yourself the question: Who is Genevieve Caulfield?"
Genevieve Caulfield doesn't exist.
"They called you a little bohemian, a little rocker," says Brunette Jennifer. "That is not our style, and it definitely shouldn't be yours."
"We're supposed to look homogeneous, Gen. You're not supposed to stick out like a sore, poorly-dressed thumb," Blonde Jennifer says.
I look at the page, and the interview isn't exactly as I thought it would be. Some of my words are twisted around or deleted all together to make me sound more like a teen idol than a boring stick-in-the-mud. Somehow, my interests are now skateboarding and helping out at pet adoptions. Who knows where reading and listening to new music went.
Back in the apartment, Mom's beaming at me. "Sweetie, I'm so proud of you," she says, showing me the article about me. "I knew you could do it."
"Did you really." I grab an apple from the fridge. "I thought you moved out here to get remarried."
Mom glares. "Genevieve, I moved out here so you could achieve your dreams. I could care less about getting remarried. One marriage is enough for a lifetime."
For some people, one marriage isn't enough for a lifetime.
"Remember when you loved to sing in the car and you sang to those tapes when you were a kid? I'm just sorry I couldn't provide lessons for you earlier."
You mean Dad couldn't provide lessons for me earlier.
I walk out and find Kendall ready to knock on the door. "Hi," I greet awkwardly.
"Hi," he says, smiling. "Busy?"
"Just leaving. What's up?"
He grabs my arm and pulls me outside. I slam the door shut. "Is it really that urgent?" I ask as he drags me down the hallway. We step into a broom closet. "What's going on? And what is your problem?"
Kendall bites his lip. "Look. I heard the Jennifers talking, and they aren't happy." He takes in a deep breath. "They want to kick you out. For good."
I furrow my brow. "Why? I didn't do anything."
"...Something about going against the rules. Taking it too far."
"What rules?"
Kendall shrugs. "I don't know. That's all I heard. I thought it would be important to tell you."
I feel my face getting hot. "What...what do I do? I can't go to the Palm Woods school if I don't have a career in Hollywood, and I know my mom will want to move back to Washington if she finds out if I get kicked out--" I feel the tears slip down my eyes, and Kendall wipes them, frowning.
"Hey, hey. Calm down." Kendall pulls me into a tight hug. "We'll figure this out together, okay? Don't worry so much about it."
I open the door to the broom closet and sprint into the elevator, Kendall chasing and yelling at me to come back. When I get to the lobby, I see the Jennifers sitting at a table. I stomp towards them. Blonde Jennifer opens her mouth with a smug look on her face. "Don't bother saying anything to me, because you know what? I quit. I hate you. And your clothes. And your stupid rules," I grumble.
I turn around and march out of the Palm Woods to take a long, long walk.
> >
Around ten at night, I find my way back to the Palm Woods and take the elevator up to the apartment. Everything's packed up ready to go. Mom is nowhere to be found. I look into my room, and everything's gone--every poster, every picture, every shirt I own is gone.
I saunter down to the pool and see Kendall sitting on a chair, frowning as he stares off into space. I sit down next to him. "Hey," he says, facing me. "What's wrong?" he asks quietly.
I bury my face in my hands. Kendall rubs my back, silent. "Everything's gone," I say quietly. "Everything. My clothes, my old notebooks, my posters..."
"It'll be like a clean slate. You can start over," he replies, the blue hue of the pool reflecting across his face.
"Don't you get it? I don't want to start over!" I stand up. He steps towards me, but I push him away. "I just want to be me! I just want to be Genevieve Caulfield!"
Kendall stares at me. We're silent for a while.
"You don't have to be anything you don't want to be," he says, holding out a hand. "You can be whoever you want. But you have to ask yourself the question: Who is Genevieve Caulfield?"
Genevieve Caulfield doesn't exist.