Broken Keys

[a week later]

"Mom…the mail is here." I said breathlessly, staring outside at the mailman putting my either acceptance or rejection letter to my dream school.

She laughed lightly, giving my bony hand a squeeze. "I'll go get it."

I watcher her as she slowly walked up the long driveway, opening my letter, reading it before she even got to the front steps.

She stopped in her tracks, obviously reading it over again. Her frail hand covered her mouth, and my heart was beating faster than a hummingbird's wings.

Oh my gosh…I didn't make it….

She walked in the wooden door slowly, sadness clear across her face, sighing lightly. Her hands were shaking. "I hate when you leave me…."

I widened my eyes, my jaw slightly ajar. "I…I made it…?"

She gave me a small smile. "Honey, you've been accepted."

I screamed, jumping up and giving my thin mother a huge and tight hug.

We jumped for joy, talking a million words a second about the school and how she was so proud of me.

She held my shoulders at arms length, smiling from ear to ear. "Lily, I am so proud of you."

I smiled just as big as her, my stomach full of butterflies and bats. "Thanks, Mom."

"Now…let's pack!"



I hate flying.

I've never liked it. Ever since the tragedy at New York on September, I've forever hated gliding in an oversized toy airplane, through the clouds, and sometimes above them. I'd rather be on the ground rather than look at it from 16,000 feet in the air, you know? I'm claustrophobic, too, which does not help the fact that I always get stuck in the middle seat of the row, between two overweight couple that one had wanted the aisle seat so he could easily get out of the plane, and the other wanting the window seat so she could look out it. And I get stuck in the middle of them, as they start fighting about if one is overdressed for a plane ride, then end up falling asleep on each of my shoulders. The flight attendants are always too perky, asking every two seconds if I want a refill when I haven't even had a look at it. The turbulence sucks, making me spill my complimentary pop everywhere, and my complimentary peanuts shoot out of the bag because we had hit a bad bump and my fingers rip open the bag, making the nuts fly every which way. The plane ride is always too long, and you can't walk anywhere without getting accused of being a terrorist or getting in trouble because your "disturbing the other fliers." The plane no longer gives you an actual meal anymore, so my stomach is growling at me for food, when I'm trying to fill it up on pop, nuts, and whatever else the flight attendants give me. And of course I get stuck in a place where there's no TV, so I can't watch a movie, and I can't even sleep because I have to huge apes on each shoulder, snoring louder than a lions roar every second.

Then, when you finally get off the plane, your legs are so wobbly an you can't walk very well. And you fight your way out of the plane and into the airport, screaming out, 'Hallelujah! I'm on the ground again!' Then you practically run to the baggage claim, hoping you don't miss your bag and they throw it into the unclaimed baggage area.

And, as if in cue, people surround you, beefing for your autograph, and saying how much they are a fan of you, and have seen so many shows. And "Sign this, sign that. Here, here's my shoe, sign them so I can show my friends!" "Take a picture with me so I can show my friends!" "Take a picture so I can show my cat!" "Here! Here's my forehead, sign it!" is all you here as you try to bolt out the airport as quickly as possible, but no one moves. Then someone tries to steal your hat, or an article of clothing so they can have a "memory" of you. Then finally, after twenty minutes of suffocation, and hyperventilating because of no space, security breaks up the group so I can actually breathe. Then they eventually ask for your autograph and everything goes back to the way it was just minutes ago.

Then you finally get out of the airport and outside where there are six trillion people there all trying to get a taxi, and sprinting into the one that comes to the curb. People curse and swear at the ones who had cut in front of them when they've been waiting for "hours." And when you finally get a cab after people have cussed at you for stealing their cab, the roads are moving at one mile an hour because there's so much traffic.

I hate flying.



When I finally arrived to Hollywood Fine Arts school, I wasn't lost, like all the other new kids. Mom and I have toured and visited this school so much I know it as well as my own, old house. Well, it is my new home technically.

I weaved my way through the crowded hallways of my dorm, trying to find my room, hopefully sharing it with someone cool.

Around me, kids were everywhere with their parents, relatives and/or friends, bawling on how they were going to miss each other so much, saying 'I love you' every second as if it were the last time they were to see each other. They promised to call and write, and come visit as soon as they can, hoping to get a little time off from this soon-to-be hectic and insane school schedule.

Every-which-way, a dorm room door would be open, showing the large, clean, and organized room, only too be most likely trashed in a few days because they know they don't have a mother or father nagging at them to clean their room. But, hey, that's high school kids for ya.

In other rooms, some kids had immediately started practicing their instruments, acting and performing skills, hoping they can be even better than they were before, most likely living by the phrase: Practice makes perfect. Which is true. The more you practice, the better you can become. Lord knows how long I've practiced everyday to get where I am. And look at me now, I'm at the best fine arts high school in the country, competing against some of the worlds top musicians.

Once I finally found my room, at the end of the hallway, naturally, I fished through my many pockets to find my key to get in, my hands shaking because of those damn nerves. I fiddled with the key, trying to fit it through the lock, and finally heard a CLICK! I smiled slightly, my nerves becoming more and more present as I pushed open the wooden door of my new room.

The room was big. The bed was already made up, and the room was decorated with hues of red and purple. There, fortunately, was only one bed, thank the Heavens. I guess being famous has its perks....

I let out a long sigh, plopping down on my bed. I've been unpacking for an hour now, and I'm exhausted. Who knew unpacking would be so tiring?

I got out my phone, dialing my mother's number to tell her I was safe and settled in, ready to tell her how crazy it was in the school and the fact that I had no roommate.

"Hi, my flower!" My mother's high voice rang through my head. I could tell she was smiling from ear to ear, ready to tell her the "amazing stories" of when she was here when she was my age.

"Hey, Mom. Just wanted to say I'm settled in and everything." I said, fiddling with the tassels on the curtains.

"Great! How was the plane ride?"

I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Awful. I got…ugh, I don't even want to talk about it."

She laughed lightly, and I could just see that her nose was crinkling up like always when she laughs. "I'm sorry, flower. But, it was for a great thing, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so." I sighed, rolling my eyes once more.

"So, how's the room?"

"Amazing. They must've found out that I was coming, because they tricked out my room. And thankfully, no roommate."

She let out a laugh. "Good, good! I'm so happy for you, Lily."

I blushed slightly, fiddling with my fingers. "Thanks, Mom. Look, I’m gonna go to bed, I’m really tired. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, bye, flower.”

“Bye.” I mumbled before hanging up, my eyelids getting heavier and heavier by the second.

I hope this year turns out right.