Status: I'll post one or two chapters per day. Stay tuned!
The Unusual Suspects
Skye and Catherine
Skye
I arrived at the dining hall at 1:01, and Jersey was at our usual table, looking ready to jump out of her skin.
“Where have you been?!” She exclaimed. Her hangover appeared to have been magically cured, but she had big dark bags under her eyes.
“Dude, I was with Ash.” I gave her a quick hug. She rolled her eyes and dismissed me. Bitch. “Problem?”
“Nothing. It’s been quite the morning.” She took a sip of her…Mountain Dew?
“Jerz! You’re drinking caffeine?” I exclaimed
“This stuff has caffeine in it?” Her eyes widened
“Never mind.” I laughed. If I told her she was consuming a beverage with more caffeine than a grande chai latte from Starbucks, she’d have one of her spazztic Jersey breakdowns.
“I met someone!” she grinned
“I heard.” I rolled my eyes
“You know about Mack?”
“Mack? His name is Tommy, you slore!” I laughed
“Whaaaaa? No! Tommy was the sleazeball from the party last night. I met Mack today.”
“Oh, look at you, playa!” Donte appeared out of nowhere and plopped himself in the chair next to Jersey.
“Shut up, Donte.” I tried to silence him. I could tell Jersey felt icky from what happened with Tommy last night—what happened with Tommy last night??—and even though Donte meant well, Jersey looked stressed.
“I’ve decided to stop drinking.” She declared.
“Yeah, okay” Ash came up to us, looking adorable in his black polo and khakis he wore to work at Starbucks.
“A wild Ash appeared!” Donte exclaimed. He was always making Pokémon jokes to Ash, who insisted he wasn’t named after the Pokémon Trainer.
Jersey continued, “I’m serious. Besides, Mack said I’d look cuter sober.”
“Mack? My cousin?” Ash’s eyes widened.
“You have a cousin here?” I asked. Was WashArts big enough for two adorable goofy grins?
“Yeah,” he slung his arm around me like always, “He’s a senior, like us. He’s from California. Mack was in Europe or something last year taking pictures and won some kind of photography award for his pictures. That’s how he got in.”
“Impressive” Jersey shrugged. I think she felt awkward swooning over Mack now that she knew Ash was related to him.
“It must suck to transfer your senior year.” I commented.
“WashArts isn’t exactly prison, Skye.” Ash poked my tummy playfully, making me jump.
“It looks like the welcoming committee has already rolled out, though” Donte looked at Jersey, who shot him a glare.
“He’s my roommate. It worked well, because I had a single last year.” Ash said.
I saw Cassidy march in, with Jinx and Linzay in tow. Where was the other girl from last night?
Vladimir Bolshevik had texted me last night asking me what I had heard about Catherine. I had no idea who Catherine was, but I assumed she was the new girl. She’d been talking to Vlad and his brother Demetri at the party.
“Hello, Skye.” Cassidy looked as if she was still wasted, “You left early last night. Couldn’t handle the heat?” she taunted.
“I had to leave. The room reeked of your cheap perfume. What’s that scent, Band Slut by CVS?” I wasn’t in the mood for Cassidy’s bullshit.
“And what’s yours?” Jinx sneered, “Prude by Target?”
“Jinx, shut up!” Cassidy turned around, “I can fight my own fucking battles!” Jinx grabbed Linzay and they slouched off to the salad bar.
Then Cassidy noticed my friends. Here we go.
“Hey, Jerz, I heard you had quite the good time last night,” Cassidy spoke directly at Jersey, who was defenseless, “I guess the whole short girl, blowjob thing is true, huh?”
“Please, Cassidy.” I replied, “You couldn’t even give a blowjob without shredding a penis with those disgusting things in your lips. Maybe that’s why Fernando is done with you.”
“Ooohhhh.” Donte whispered
“Fernando had what was coming to him,” she flipped her hair. Her light blue eyes zoomed in on Ash. No fucking way.
“Aw, Skye! You found someone!” she exclaimed fakely, “He’s cute, but I give him 2 weeks until he gets tired of waiting for your prude ass.”
Ash stood up angrily, “Get a fucking life, dude. You’re more fake than Kim Kardashian’s ass.”
Cassidy got up in Ash’s face, “I suggest you don’t start with me, dude. Skye can tell you firsthand what it’s like to be on my shit list.” She plastered on a fake grin once more, “Now that we’re clear, here’s my number.” She handed him a green post-it note, “When you get tired of waiting for this bitch…call me.”
My face was heating up with hate. But before I could reply, she sauntered away. Oh, how I hated her.
Donte reached across the table to me, “Skye, calm.” He encouraged.
“She’s pissed,” Ash spoke, “And has every right to be. Cassidy’s a bitch.”
I was still on fire, my heart pounding. Cassidy could torture me. I was used to that—I learned to brush off her bitchiness—but when she brought Jersey and Ash—my Ash—into it, that enraged me.
I looked across the room where Catherine had joined The Band Sluts at their table. I really did pity the girl. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.
Then again, neither did any of us.
Catherine
“…I got this done at this place in Ocean City called ‘Etch-A-Skin’” Cassidy turned up the bottom of her arm to reveal a poorly-sketched rose with jagged thorns and fire on her wrist.
It was lunch and I was sitting with the three girls at their usual table by the salad bar. Cassidy was telling me about all the cool places she wanted to take me too, but they were all tattoo parlors and dive bars. Jinx and Linzay looked fascinated with her latest ink, but I thought it was trashy. I mean, since I was one my parents drilled it in my head that if I ever got a tattoo it’d be “straight to hell” for me, but secretly I’ve always wanted one. Something pretty and symbolic like a butterfly or a cross, but not trashy and sketchy like Cassidy’s.
“This guy who worked there, he totally wanted me” she flipped her greasy hair over her bare shoulder and took a bite out of her grapefruit—the only thing she got for lunch besides Fiji water. She loved citrus fruit. “He gave me a good discount. I thanked him later” she raised her eyebrows knowingly.
Jinx and Linzay raised their eyebrows knowingly back, but I didn’t get it. Did she bake him cookies?
“You didn’t tell her about the Dragon Room” Jinx took a massive bite out of her meatball sub. I was still hesitant about eating my pasta salad. Jinx was more frightening than Cassidy. “It’s this sick bar in Southwest. There’re male strippers who’ll go naked for just a dollar, but the girls are way better”
“That sounds… nice” I bit my lip
“Didn’t Skye tell us about that place last winter?” Linzay’s blue eyes brightened, but then darkened when she saw Cassidy and Jinx shooting her a look.
This was the second time she’d brought up that name with bad reactions. I was getting curious. I wondered who Skye was. I was getting tired of hearing about sketchy tattoo parlors and half-naked male strippers.
“Who’s Skye?” I asked again, not willing to take nothing for an answer. Then I thought for a moment. “Wait, is she that pretty girl with the turquoise dress from the party?” I flashed back and remembered the girl who left early in the middle of Cassidy’s fight with the shirtless bassist. She mentioned his name was Fernando when I sat down five minutes ago.
Cassidy scoffed, “Pretty? Babe, Skye is not someone you want to know. Trust me.” She rolled her eyes. I could tell she was hiding something, “However, Danny, on the other hand…well he is.”
“Danny? Does he go here?” I asked, hoping she mixed up Demetri’s name… or if that was Shadow’s real name. At the thought of my lab partner and his crystal blue eyes, I melted a little.
“He’s the tattoo artist, dumbass” Jinx snapped, her mouth full with greasy sandwich again
I blushed, embarrassed, but Linzay, who was sitting next to me at the small round table, tapped my shoulder and gave me an apologetic but reassuring grin. I felt better. Linzay talked in our dorm more than she did around her friends. Out of the three girls, I think I liked her the best. I mean, Cassidy was really awesome—she was inviting me to all these cool places to do all these cool things with her!—and Jinx was just, well, obnoxious but Linzay was definitely the most, well, sane.
“So how ‘bout this Saturday, you come down with us to the Dragon Room and we can teach you how to party outside of Wash Arts—“
“Catherine, hey!”
I whipped around in my seat and saw Vladimir waving frantically across the room. He was sitting at the counter of some kiosk with his brother—I would notice those dark wavy curls anywhere—who was bent over his cell phone texting madly with another unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. Goose bumps ran up and down my spine as memories of that amazing encounter last night swarmed my mind, but then I realized a certain pair of blue eyes would do more to me than the sight of Demetri across the room. I stopped. I’ve been here for only two days and already I was torn between crushes on two of the most gorgeous guys I’ve met so far at school. If this were Salem, I’d be marked as a slut.
I smiled and waved back at Vladimir, remembering that I promised to have lunch with him. Demetri was tempting and I was exactly one to break promises, but what would Cassidy think if I just got up and left? She was beginning to be my first friend at Wash Arts, and that would be rude of me.
But sure enough, Cassidy whipped around in her seat to see who I was waving to. She saw Vladimir and frowned.
“Come on Catherine, really? Him?” she hissed at me
“What? He seems pretty nice” I responded “He showed me to my first period this morning”
Jinx snorted “You’d be better off with Donte Jones over there” she pointed her finger and I followed it across the other side of the room to a black kid in a red flannel shirt who was rapping under the watchful eye of our headmaster, Principal Xu, who looked pretty close to kicking him out of the cafeteria.
“Or his brother” Jinx continued, grinning “I would know”
I perked up at the mention “Oh yeah, Demetri!” I smiled “I met him last night at the—“
“No Jinx, I would know” Cassidy replied coldly, sparks shining in her blue eyes. They weren’t exactly comforting.
Linzay and I exchanged a glance. She shook her head as if to say Don’t bother before pulling out a pen and sketching on her ripped denim jeans. I shrugged and picked at my penne salad.
“Catherine!” Vladimir called out again, more pleadingly. I turned again and saw him beckoning me to come over. That’s when Demetri turned his head, caught my eye… and grinned. Oh my gosh…
“SHUT IT VLAD!” Cassidy fired at him. He turned away in fear and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. Well, that was rude.
“Hey Cass, that wasn’t very nice” I said, regretting it the second I said it. I turned around again and saw Demetri looking amusedly at… Cassidy.
“Whatever. I’m gonna take a smoke in the bathroom” she threw her half-eaten grapefruit in a nearby wastebasket and pushed her chair back “anyone wanna come?”
“I got a class at one?” Jinx toyed with her nose piercing ring and looked down apologetically
“Boo, you whore” Cassidy rolled her eyes “It’s the first day. No one actually teaches anything”
Jinx and Linzay didn’t say anything. “I think I’m good too” I replied “I don’t really… smoke”
“Boo, you whore” Jinx scoffed
I looked up to apologize but Cassidy was already storming out of the cafeteria. I instantly felt bad, even though smoking in the bathroom on the first day of classes was so NOT my thing…. But should it be, I wondered. I was living my life under what the cool kids, including Turquoise Dress Girl, would do. I wanted to shed my Catholic schoolgirl skin and be “young, wild, and free” like them.
“Soo Catherine” Jinx drawled, snapping me out of my daze
I jumped “What?” I asked. I widened my eyes at Jinx and Linzay, who both stared at me with wide interrogative eyes. Without Cassidy, Jinx looked scarier and Linzay looked more talkative.
“Meet any cute guys, yet?” Linzay asked
“Hopefully besides Digital Nerd over there” Jinx put in “and who got big cocks”
“What’s a cock?” I asked “You mean, like, farm boys?”
Linzay choked on her root beer. Jinx looked at me like I really did smoke hallucinogens. I blushed furiously for the fifth time that day (not counting biology class. That was too epic a mess-up) and decided I would look it up later on the Internet.
“Uh, well, there’s this cute guy in my biology class” Okay, big lie. He wasn’t ‘cute’. He was smoldering. Brooding. Simply, purely, undeniably, mysteriously amazing. Probably the prettiest guy I would ever see or be lucky enough to learn about mitosis and share test tubes with.
Jinx and Linzay liked that. “What’s his name?” Linzay asked
“Shadow, but I don’t know if that’s his… what?”
The two girls looked like they didn’t like this anymore. Their mouths were agape and they looked at each other nervously. Like they’d just uncovered some deep, dark secret necessary of hiding from the government.
“What? Is he notorious for date-rape or something?” Would I have to call in Big Daddy already? My heart ached at the thought of my dad, and then I felt crushed when I realized I forgot to call him last night like I’d promised when I was partying. I’d have to call him later and apologize before he assumed I’d been murdered by the theatre kids.
“Shadow? You like Shadow Greyson?” Linzay asked, stuttering. Her wide blue eyes stared at me in shocked horror. I was getting fed up with the mystery game. I had my Advanced Lit Composition class in five minutes.
“I mean, he’s alright” I looked down, realizing that I might’ve just screwed up. He’s more than just alright. I think he’s prettier than those Botticelli angels I learned about in my fifth-grade Religious Art class.
“Dude, that’s Cassidy’s ex!” Jinx gasped. She made it sound like it was a bigger scandal than Kim Kardashian’s seventy-two-day marriage or I unintentionally stole some dinosaur bone from the Smithsonian museum two blocks down.
“What?” I gasped. Cassidy dated… Shadow? Beautiful blue-eyed, leather-jacketed, lab-partner Shadow? My heart was deflating like a punctured balloon.
“They dated for four months last year” Linzay sipped her strawberry smoothie “They were the it couple. They were so cute together. They were going to be elected homecoming king and queen, until they chose just Cassidy as queen and this guy Michael as the king. That’s why Cassidy dumped him for—“
“That’s why SHADOW dumped her…” Jinx raised her voice and lifted her eyebrows warningly at Linzay, who blushed as red as the smoothie she was drinking
“Sorry” she stammered “that’s why SHADOW dumped her for Skye. That’s why you’re supposed to hate her”
Oh, okay.
“Rumor had it they were engaged and would drop out to elope in Mexico last summer” Jinx continued in a hushed voice “It was serious. But, like, you can’t like him”
“Why not?” I asked, crushed. If Cassidy and Shadow weren’t together anymore, shouldn’t it be okay to talk to him. Unless… “I mean, he’s not, like, still together with this Skye girl… is he?” I dreadfully asked
“Oh no, she’s making porn with this film kid who works at Starbucks” Jinx piped up with a gleeful but vindictive edge. Linzay looked down at the wolf sketch on her jeans, looking bothered.
“But you absolutely can NOT talk to Shadow. Cassidy will disown you faster than you can say ‘Ocean City boardwalk’ and she’ll make your life a living hell. That’s what she does to girls who cross her, and making a move on her ex is NOT a good idea”
Jinx threw me a dark glare that rivaled my mom’s when she caught me staring at that cute guy in church choir or when I mentioned I wanted to be a writer, not a house wife mother of six. It was like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest and hurled it across the room at Vladimir’s head.
“Um… Okay. No problem. Won’t happen again” I threw a smile that felt forced and faker than most of these girls’ hair. Just then Cassidy was strolling back through the cafeteria entrance, blue eyes bloodshot and trembling fingers furiously working with a lighter. She looked like she’d been smoking more than just cigarettes.
I realized I could never look at Cassidy the same way after learning this crushing news. I mean, she was still my first friend-in-the-making and I still wanted to go to these cool spots in Ocean City with her, but I watched her stumbling with cigarettes while heavily under the influence and instead saw a mirage of her smiling and waving at a cheering crowd like the model-in-training she was, with a sparkling tiara atop her oily hair and a faceless guy by her side, with Shadow glowing and admiring her from afar, those ice blue eyes full of lights and love...
I wanted him to look at me like that, to be what Cassidy was to him, but apparently that wasn’t in the foreseeable future…
Skye
My favorite class junior year was Advanced Lit Comp, so of course I was excited to take the second part this year.
Walking into the Liberal Arts building, a wash of warmth filled my body from head to toe. It was as if all the Cassidy drama that had already taken over my senior year had diminished and I was instantly ready to write. Writing is the reason for my existence. I write, therefore I am. Back in junior high, all the boys and girls at my public school were outside playing softball or soccer or something and I was inside. I still remember that summer day when 12 year old me was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a jar of Nutella—I had a binge-eating disorder back then—and my mom had come into the room. Skylar, go play outside with the other neighborhood kids. You’re wasting away your summer getting fat. I didn’t hear anything else in that statement except “fat”. Fat. The bane of my existence. Most girls, being fed that negative message, would start starving themselves—like the girls at Annapolis Middle School—but I refused to be a statistic.
Rolling my heavily-lined seventh grade eyes—I insisted on wearing more makeup than the WashArts theatre kids—I marched up to my bedroom and pulled out my journal. I wrote in it every day, sometimes more depending on the amount of the daily bullshit I endured.
The fall came around, and I spent eighth grade in my own little writer-bubble. Until my English teacher, Ms. Renegon—who had taken a specific liking to my controversial essays—decided to submit a prose that I’d written to Wash Arts admissions office, along with an awesome recommendation letter. Knowing that someone had cared that much about my success filled me with inexplicable happiness.
I got into WashArts that winter, and I stopped binging and started writing—with the exception of the occasional 10 red velvet cupcakes and the obscene amount of caffeine I consume on a regular basis. I was no longer the pudgy loner that I’d been for 13 years. I was stellar.
Advanced Lit Composition 2 was in room LA104, where I had taken its predecessor last year. As my Converse touched the ground in the classroom, I looked around and remembered why I fell in love with Wash Arts four years ago. The room was painted a light coral color with light hardwood floors covered in gorgeous shaggy rugs, made by the Intermediate Mixed Media class. This room was ten times than an average English classroom: instead of boring desks arranged in straight-ass rows there were mahogany coffee tables and plush velvet armchairs. Instead of a chalkboard there were several artsy, inspiring posters tattooed with famous stanzas from the classic works of Poe and Dickinson—the kind that touched your soul and made you feel something that could change your whole outlook on life. Charcoal sketches on old Harry Potter-like parchment and black-and-white photos of trees were taped to the “Inspiration Board” with the finest pieces from Wash Arts’ Literary Magazine over the past years. The room smelled like old parchment, creamy iced lattes, vanilla-scented candles, and fresh inspiration.
This was the year of the Skye, and like Ash’s Inkling had guaranteed, nothing was going to get in my way. Not even Cassidy and her Band Sluts.
I grabbed my favorite loveseat near the front of the classroom and set my coffee down on the table in front of it. I’m pretty sure I’m the reason coffee tables were invented. I was sure that none of the other Unusuals would be in this class, but it was okay. Writing was the one thing that I preferred to do without my friends. The one thing.
The classroom was filling up and I had a lot of hellos and hugs from familiar fellow writers from last year. God, I loved this class. The Creative Writing kids didn’t have boundaries. They didn’t dye their hair a new obnoxious shade of neon rainbow every two days like the theatre kids. They didn’t obsess over flash drives and graffiti like the Digital Arts & Media kids. They didn’t reek of photography chemicals like Jersey’s gang or “disturb the peace” with Lil Wayne wannabe beats like Donte’s or whine about having too much fat in their too-toned thighs like the Dance girls (undeniably the closest thing Wash Arts had to an army of evil preppies. The bows in their hair were too big to fool anyone). If the other cliques at Wash Arts were peacocks who cared too much about flaunting what they had, we were the gray doves who just wanted to spread our wings and fly. The Creative Writing kids were as cool as cool can get. We were the effortless kind of cool, the kind of cool that…. Okay, you get it.
I dropped my messenger back in the loveseat and that’s when I noticed her. She was the girl from the party last night, but she looked different not dressed up in skankgear. I got a better look at her and started to envy her skinny frame. She had dark blue-black hair pulled up in an annoyingly effortless bun that I’d have to work at for three hours to get. Her clothes though—yuck—she looked like Good Catholic Barbie. Okay, so I did like her long, flowy skirt, but the pink overload was giving me a headache. She needed to ditch the J.C. Penney, fast.
Her eyes looked very clouded and distraught, as if she was over-thinking something. I would know that look anywhere. I see it in the mirror every day. I saw her looking around at the almost-full classroom full of quiet teenagers. Although we were all friends, we entered our writer-zones as soon as the clock struck one. I pitied her for having to walk into a room of teenagers who’ve known each other since kindergarten finger-painting sessions and she’s the stranger who might as well be from another planet.
“Hey” I asked, wanting to help the poor thing out. Maybe it wasn’t too late to prevent the Band Sluts from getting a fourth member. “I got room right here if you need a seat.”
She turned around and her eyes widened with surprise. “Um, sure…” she nervously stammered. She clutched her not-as-cool-as-mine messenger bag and clumsily dropped it on the floor next to the loveseat. Careful, there’s precious journals and pens in there.
“You must be Catherine” I kindly said
Her eyes widened more if that was possible, probably wondering how I knew her name.
“You’re the new girl. News travels fast” I shrugged “I’m Skye”
Her mouth popped open, but before she could say whatever was screaming in those creepily-innocent hazel eyes, our teacher, Ms. Harzwell, brisky walked in the classroom with the familiar click-clacking of her patent leather heels. I missed that sound. I thought of Ms. Harzwell as my mother at Wash Arts—or in real life, considering what I’ve mentioned about my mom previously. She was the stereotypical American South motherly figure, the kind you’d imagine baking apple pies for PTA events and living in a cute white house in the Georgia countryside. It helped that she dressed and sounded the part. She had a warm Southern drawl that reminded me of what Ash’s mother might sound like, had those typical Marilyn Monroe blonde waves and watery blue eyes with just a little bit of crinkly wrinkles on the side, and wore a new floral sundress with heels every day.
“Good afternoon!” she grinned, taking in our excited faces, “To my past writers, welcome back. And to our new students, welcome”
I glanced at Catherine, who was not-so-slickly avoiding eye contact with me on the cramped loveseat. Oh, the power that Cassidy could have over people.
“Look,” I whispered. She jumped a little in her seat, “Whatever Cassidy has told you about me is probably not true. I haven’t been working at a strip club, and I’ve never done any drugs harder than pot.”
“Her friend Jinx said you’re a Starbucks porn star or something.” A smile played on her lips, “But even I, the new girl, thought that was a little farfetched.”
Okay, so she was smarter than I originally gave her credit for.
I turned my attention back to Ms. Harzwell, “So in honor of the first day, we’re going to be writing a piece of the moment we’ve achieved our life goals. The assignment has no rules or restrictions and it can be as long or short as you want, and in any form. After you finish, trade with someone nearby and share what you’ve written. I’ll give you until 10 minutes before the period end to write. Go!”
Challenge accepted I thought. I looked over at Catherine and wondered if this was too much pressure for her. After all, there was a reason why Ms. Harzwell picked my writing to be in her Literary Magazine over everyone else’s in the class.
To my surprise, she took out a light pink—ugh—leather bound journal and a blue mechanical pencil and started writing right away. Maybe I didn’t give her enough credit.
I pulled out my favorite purple five-subject NYU journal and wrote my heart out. 30 minutes flew by and Ms. Harzwell cleared her throat, signaling the end of the assignment. I read over my work, certain that it was perfect but still looking for flaws.
I am sitting at my computer desk in my 1-bedroom studio apartment in New York City, at age 25. I have a huge Starbucks latte next to me—once a luxury, now a daily staple—and am dressed in perfect fitting Seven For All Mankind jeans and a faded purple New York University hoodie. I graduated two years prior to this day. I have a ton of full notebooks and ballpoint pens littering my space. My cell phone buzzes with a text from my friend Ash saying to get on the New York Times website, ASAP. He’s never lead me wrong, so I get online and open the first headline, the updated bestseller list. And then I see it. My name, my book title, praises from authors that I once aspired to be. I can’t breathe. My heart stopped beating, and then started again, doubling its pace. I couldn’t believe it. I’d dreamed of this moment since I was twelve years old, and now it had arrived. This was it.
“Okay, I hope you all dug deep and were creative with your assignments!” she smiled, “Now, choose a partner and read each other’s work.”
I looked at Catherine, “Switch?” I asked.
“Yeah” She handed me her notebook and I gave her mine.
She had written a poem—a good one.
There it is
I can see it now through the lights
Glimmering in my eyes
And the new world around me
What I’ve dreamed of since I was little
Every night, brighter than the stars
I see this day, I breathe the moments
Where I’ll step off a bustling train platform
Fresh out of that glorious university
Born from a coffee shop, I’ll ascend like a comet
To queen of a generation, conqueror of a thousand touched souls
Once I make that golden list, glowing in my mind
For all these years, but now nothing but
My pen as my sword and my journal as my heart
Verses my blood, lyrics my oxygen
I cannot breathe without these passions
If not for these dreams, I’d be crumbling ruins
Falling ever and ever in a dark abyss of the not-fulfilled
There it is, I can see it now
Dreams like diamonds in my eyes
Skylines towering above me, purple collegiate flags
My name up on that list
Burning fire in my heart
You can’t stop me now
I’m only halfway there
Fuck, she was good. No wonder she was the only junior—and a transfer student, nonetheless—in this class. And then I realized something.
She’d finished reading my prose, and I looked up to find those wide eyes holding the same reaction as my own. We were silent. I couldn’t take this.
“What… university are you talking about in your poem?” I looked back at ‘purple flags’ and somehow knew the answer already.
“Same one you talked about” she pointed to my piece of paper
I stared at her for a long moment. She stared back, and smiled sheepishly.
“I’m gonna name you Cat” I pointed at her, speaking determinedly. She was my new project. As you say here at Wash Arts, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
She looked surprised again, and sucked in her bottom lip. “But I’ve been Catherine my whole life”
“Not in this…” I was about to say ‘outfit’, but I realized she wasn’t familiar with Unusual Suspect Inside Joke #14. She’d learn. “Not in this class” I finished
She shrugged, not wanting to argue. “Okay, I mean, it’s your call… you’re a really good writer, by the way”
Screw the Band Sluts. I was going to love this girl.
The Quill: Email
To: TonyPolizzi@gmail.com
From: CatherinePolizzi@washarts.edu
Date: September 2nd, 8:15 pm
Subject: First Day!!
Dear Daddy,
Sorry! I forgot to call you last night. I was at, um, well, my roommate and her two friends—who’re super nice!—invited me to this coffee shop poet reading in the dining hall and I got sidetracked. You know how I am.
Today was my first day of classes and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I honestly can’t believe Mom can’t love this place. I’m already making so many cool friends! But don’t worry, you can keep your gun locked up for now. I made guy friends… but they’re gay. They’re into theatre. You know the type. AP Bio is my first class of the day and my friend Vladimir (he’s GAY!) showed me around. And this girl Cassidy, who’s friends with my roommate Linzay, she’s studying to be a model and she promised to take me to her family’s place in Ocean City. And her other friend Jinx, who’s studying cosmetology, she did my makeup for...the poet reading. Yeah. I mean, the poet readings are serious biz around here. Mafia bosses will understand, right? Jk, jk. And there’s this girl in my advanced lit class (it’s my favorite so far!) named Skye. Are you sure you don’t have another daughter I should know about? I’m just kidding but not really. She’s a senior but we have the same NYC dreams and guess what? She wants to go to NYU too! You’d really like her.
I miss you Daddy. Like, a lot. Have you found your “hella-good” Italian restaurant yet? Has Paulie like his new school? Is he gonna try out for the baseball team? Has Mom calmed down yet? Or has she driven you completely insane. I admit, I kind of miss the craziness. There’s not enough Italian blood here. Just those damn Soviets and their damn cigarettes, as I’m sure you would say.
I’m super, super happy daddy, and every one here’s super nice. The fishes will be awake tonight. I think I’m really going to fit in here. Wash Arts might just be ‘the One’
Sincerely, your Kitty Cat <3
P.S. I’ll call you later, I promise! My roommate’s asleep… too much studying? Yeah, let’s put it that way. Goodnight!
I arrived at the dining hall at 1:01, and Jersey was at our usual table, looking ready to jump out of her skin.
“Where have you been?!” She exclaimed. Her hangover appeared to have been magically cured, but she had big dark bags under her eyes.
“Dude, I was with Ash.” I gave her a quick hug. She rolled her eyes and dismissed me. Bitch. “Problem?”
“Nothing. It’s been quite the morning.” She took a sip of her…Mountain Dew?
“Jerz! You’re drinking caffeine?” I exclaimed
“This stuff has caffeine in it?” Her eyes widened
“Never mind.” I laughed. If I told her she was consuming a beverage with more caffeine than a grande chai latte from Starbucks, she’d have one of her spazztic Jersey breakdowns.
“I met someone!” she grinned
“I heard.” I rolled my eyes
“You know about Mack?”
“Mack? His name is Tommy, you slore!” I laughed
“Whaaaaa? No! Tommy was the sleazeball from the party last night. I met Mack today.”
“Oh, look at you, playa!” Donte appeared out of nowhere and plopped himself in the chair next to Jersey.
“Shut up, Donte.” I tried to silence him. I could tell Jersey felt icky from what happened with Tommy last night—what happened with Tommy last night??—and even though Donte meant well, Jersey looked stressed.
“I’ve decided to stop drinking.” She declared.
“Yeah, okay” Ash came up to us, looking adorable in his black polo and khakis he wore to work at Starbucks.
“A wild Ash appeared!” Donte exclaimed. He was always making Pokémon jokes to Ash, who insisted he wasn’t named after the Pokémon Trainer.
Jersey continued, “I’m serious. Besides, Mack said I’d look cuter sober.”
“Mack? My cousin?” Ash’s eyes widened.
“You have a cousin here?” I asked. Was WashArts big enough for two adorable goofy grins?
“Yeah,” he slung his arm around me like always, “He’s a senior, like us. He’s from California. Mack was in Europe or something last year taking pictures and won some kind of photography award for his pictures. That’s how he got in.”
“Impressive” Jersey shrugged. I think she felt awkward swooning over Mack now that she knew Ash was related to him.
“It must suck to transfer your senior year.” I commented.
“WashArts isn’t exactly prison, Skye.” Ash poked my tummy playfully, making me jump.
“It looks like the welcoming committee has already rolled out, though” Donte looked at Jersey, who shot him a glare.
“He’s my roommate. It worked well, because I had a single last year.” Ash said.
I saw Cassidy march in, with Jinx and Linzay in tow. Where was the other girl from last night?
Vladimir Bolshevik had texted me last night asking me what I had heard about Catherine. I had no idea who Catherine was, but I assumed she was the new girl. She’d been talking to Vlad and his brother Demetri at the party.
“Hello, Skye.” Cassidy looked as if she was still wasted, “You left early last night. Couldn’t handle the heat?” she taunted.
“I had to leave. The room reeked of your cheap perfume. What’s that scent, Band Slut by CVS?” I wasn’t in the mood for Cassidy’s bullshit.
“And what’s yours?” Jinx sneered, “Prude by Target?”
“Jinx, shut up!” Cassidy turned around, “I can fight my own fucking battles!” Jinx grabbed Linzay and they slouched off to the salad bar.
Then Cassidy noticed my friends. Here we go.
“Hey, Jerz, I heard you had quite the good time last night,” Cassidy spoke directly at Jersey, who was defenseless, “I guess the whole short girl, blowjob thing is true, huh?”
“Please, Cassidy.” I replied, “You couldn’t even give a blowjob without shredding a penis with those disgusting things in your lips. Maybe that’s why Fernando is done with you.”
“Ooohhhh.” Donte whispered
“Fernando had what was coming to him,” she flipped her hair. Her light blue eyes zoomed in on Ash. No fucking way.
“Aw, Skye! You found someone!” she exclaimed fakely, “He’s cute, but I give him 2 weeks until he gets tired of waiting for your prude ass.”
Ash stood up angrily, “Get a fucking life, dude. You’re more fake than Kim Kardashian’s ass.”
Cassidy got up in Ash’s face, “I suggest you don’t start with me, dude. Skye can tell you firsthand what it’s like to be on my shit list.” She plastered on a fake grin once more, “Now that we’re clear, here’s my number.” She handed him a green post-it note, “When you get tired of waiting for this bitch…call me.”
My face was heating up with hate. But before I could reply, she sauntered away. Oh, how I hated her.
Donte reached across the table to me, “Skye, calm.” He encouraged.
“She’s pissed,” Ash spoke, “And has every right to be. Cassidy’s a bitch.”
I was still on fire, my heart pounding. Cassidy could torture me. I was used to that—I learned to brush off her bitchiness—but when she brought Jersey and Ash—my Ash—into it, that enraged me.
I looked across the room where Catherine had joined The Band Sluts at their table. I really did pity the girl. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.
Then again, neither did any of us.
Catherine
“…I got this done at this place in Ocean City called ‘Etch-A-Skin’” Cassidy turned up the bottom of her arm to reveal a poorly-sketched rose with jagged thorns and fire on her wrist.
It was lunch and I was sitting with the three girls at their usual table by the salad bar. Cassidy was telling me about all the cool places she wanted to take me too, but they were all tattoo parlors and dive bars. Jinx and Linzay looked fascinated with her latest ink, but I thought it was trashy. I mean, since I was one my parents drilled it in my head that if I ever got a tattoo it’d be “straight to hell” for me, but secretly I’ve always wanted one. Something pretty and symbolic like a butterfly or a cross, but not trashy and sketchy like Cassidy’s.
“This guy who worked there, he totally wanted me” she flipped her greasy hair over her bare shoulder and took a bite out of her grapefruit—the only thing she got for lunch besides Fiji water. She loved citrus fruit. “He gave me a good discount. I thanked him later” she raised her eyebrows knowingly.
Jinx and Linzay raised their eyebrows knowingly back, but I didn’t get it. Did she bake him cookies?
“You didn’t tell her about the Dragon Room” Jinx took a massive bite out of her meatball sub. I was still hesitant about eating my pasta salad. Jinx was more frightening than Cassidy. “It’s this sick bar in Southwest. There’re male strippers who’ll go naked for just a dollar, but the girls are way better”
“That sounds… nice” I bit my lip
“Didn’t Skye tell us about that place last winter?” Linzay’s blue eyes brightened, but then darkened when she saw Cassidy and Jinx shooting her a look.
This was the second time she’d brought up that name with bad reactions. I was getting curious. I wondered who Skye was. I was getting tired of hearing about sketchy tattoo parlors and half-naked male strippers.
“Who’s Skye?” I asked again, not willing to take nothing for an answer. Then I thought for a moment. “Wait, is she that pretty girl with the turquoise dress from the party?” I flashed back and remembered the girl who left early in the middle of Cassidy’s fight with the shirtless bassist. She mentioned his name was Fernando when I sat down five minutes ago.
Cassidy scoffed, “Pretty? Babe, Skye is not someone you want to know. Trust me.” She rolled her eyes. I could tell she was hiding something, “However, Danny, on the other hand…well he is.”
“Danny? Does he go here?” I asked, hoping she mixed up Demetri’s name… or if that was Shadow’s real name. At the thought of my lab partner and his crystal blue eyes, I melted a little.
“He’s the tattoo artist, dumbass” Jinx snapped, her mouth full with greasy sandwich again
I blushed, embarrassed, but Linzay, who was sitting next to me at the small round table, tapped my shoulder and gave me an apologetic but reassuring grin. I felt better. Linzay talked in our dorm more than she did around her friends. Out of the three girls, I think I liked her the best. I mean, Cassidy was really awesome—she was inviting me to all these cool places to do all these cool things with her!—and Jinx was just, well, obnoxious but Linzay was definitely the most, well, sane.
“So how ‘bout this Saturday, you come down with us to the Dragon Room and we can teach you how to party outside of Wash Arts—“
“Catherine, hey!”
I whipped around in my seat and saw Vladimir waving frantically across the room. He was sitting at the counter of some kiosk with his brother—I would notice those dark wavy curls anywhere—who was bent over his cell phone texting madly with another unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. Goose bumps ran up and down my spine as memories of that amazing encounter last night swarmed my mind, but then I realized a certain pair of blue eyes would do more to me than the sight of Demetri across the room. I stopped. I’ve been here for only two days and already I was torn between crushes on two of the most gorgeous guys I’ve met so far at school. If this were Salem, I’d be marked as a slut.
I smiled and waved back at Vladimir, remembering that I promised to have lunch with him. Demetri was tempting and I was exactly one to break promises, but what would Cassidy think if I just got up and left? She was beginning to be my first friend at Wash Arts, and that would be rude of me.
But sure enough, Cassidy whipped around in her seat to see who I was waving to. She saw Vladimir and frowned.
“Come on Catherine, really? Him?” she hissed at me
“What? He seems pretty nice” I responded “He showed me to my first period this morning”
Jinx snorted “You’d be better off with Donte Jones over there” she pointed her finger and I followed it across the other side of the room to a black kid in a red flannel shirt who was rapping under the watchful eye of our headmaster, Principal Xu, who looked pretty close to kicking him out of the cafeteria.
“Or his brother” Jinx continued, grinning “I would know”
I perked up at the mention “Oh yeah, Demetri!” I smiled “I met him last night at the—“
“No Jinx, I would know” Cassidy replied coldly, sparks shining in her blue eyes. They weren’t exactly comforting.
Linzay and I exchanged a glance. She shook her head as if to say Don’t bother before pulling out a pen and sketching on her ripped denim jeans. I shrugged and picked at my penne salad.
“Catherine!” Vladimir called out again, more pleadingly. I turned again and saw him beckoning me to come over. That’s when Demetri turned his head, caught my eye… and grinned. Oh my gosh…
“SHUT IT VLAD!” Cassidy fired at him. He turned away in fear and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. Well, that was rude.
“Hey Cass, that wasn’t very nice” I said, regretting it the second I said it. I turned around again and saw Demetri looking amusedly at… Cassidy.
“Whatever. I’m gonna take a smoke in the bathroom” she threw her half-eaten grapefruit in a nearby wastebasket and pushed her chair back “anyone wanna come?”
“I got a class at one?” Jinx toyed with her nose piercing ring and looked down apologetically
“Boo, you whore” Cassidy rolled her eyes “It’s the first day. No one actually teaches anything”
Jinx and Linzay didn’t say anything. “I think I’m good too” I replied “I don’t really… smoke”
“Boo, you whore” Jinx scoffed
I looked up to apologize but Cassidy was already storming out of the cafeteria. I instantly felt bad, even though smoking in the bathroom on the first day of classes was so NOT my thing…. But should it be, I wondered. I was living my life under what the cool kids, including Turquoise Dress Girl, would do. I wanted to shed my Catholic schoolgirl skin and be “young, wild, and free” like them.
“Soo Catherine” Jinx drawled, snapping me out of my daze
I jumped “What?” I asked. I widened my eyes at Jinx and Linzay, who both stared at me with wide interrogative eyes. Without Cassidy, Jinx looked scarier and Linzay looked more talkative.
“Meet any cute guys, yet?” Linzay asked
“Hopefully besides Digital Nerd over there” Jinx put in “and who got big cocks”
“What’s a cock?” I asked “You mean, like, farm boys?”
Linzay choked on her root beer. Jinx looked at me like I really did smoke hallucinogens. I blushed furiously for the fifth time that day (not counting biology class. That was too epic a mess-up) and decided I would look it up later on the Internet.
“Uh, well, there’s this cute guy in my biology class” Okay, big lie. He wasn’t ‘cute’. He was smoldering. Brooding. Simply, purely, undeniably, mysteriously amazing. Probably the prettiest guy I would ever see or be lucky enough to learn about mitosis and share test tubes with.
Jinx and Linzay liked that. “What’s his name?” Linzay asked
“Shadow, but I don’t know if that’s his… what?”
The two girls looked like they didn’t like this anymore. Their mouths were agape and they looked at each other nervously. Like they’d just uncovered some deep, dark secret necessary of hiding from the government.
“What? Is he notorious for date-rape or something?” Would I have to call in Big Daddy already? My heart ached at the thought of my dad, and then I felt crushed when I realized I forgot to call him last night like I’d promised when I was partying. I’d have to call him later and apologize before he assumed I’d been murdered by the theatre kids.
“Shadow? You like Shadow Greyson?” Linzay asked, stuttering. Her wide blue eyes stared at me in shocked horror. I was getting fed up with the mystery game. I had my Advanced Lit Composition class in five minutes.
“I mean, he’s alright” I looked down, realizing that I might’ve just screwed up. He’s more than just alright. I think he’s prettier than those Botticelli angels I learned about in my fifth-grade Religious Art class.
“Dude, that’s Cassidy’s ex!” Jinx gasped. She made it sound like it was a bigger scandal than Kim Kardashian’s seventy-two-day marriage or I unintentionally stole some dinosaur bone from the Smithsonian museum two blocks down.
“What?” I gasped. Cassidy dated… Shadow? Beautiful blue-eyed, leather-jacketed, lab-partner Shadow? My heart was deflating like a punctured balloon.
“They dated for four months last year” Linzay sipped her strawberry smoothie “They were the it couple. They were so cute together. They were going to be elected homecoming king and queen, until they chose just Cassidy as queen and this guy Michael as the king. That’s why Cassidy dumped him for—“
“That’s why SHADOW dumped her…” Jinx raised her voice and lifted her eyebrows warningly at Linzay, who blushed as red as the smoothie she was drinking
“Sorry” she stammered “that’s why SHADOW dumped her for Skye. That’s why you’re supposed to hate her”
Oh, okay.
“Rumor had it they were engaged and would drop out to elope in Mexico last summer” Jinx continued in a hushed voice “It was serious. But, like, you can’t like him”
“Why not?” I asked, crushed. If Cassidy and Shadow weren’t together anymore, shouldn’t it be okay to talk to him. Unless… “I mean, he’s not, like, still together with this Skye girl… is he?” I dreadfully asked
“Oh no, she’s making porn with this film kid who works at Starbucks” Jinx piped up with a gleeful but vindictive edge. Linzay looked down at the wolf sketch on her jeans, looking bothered.
“But you absolutely can NOT talk to Shadow. Cassidy will disown you faster than you can say ‘Ocean City boardwalk’ and she’ll make your life a living hell. That’s what she does to girls who cross her, and making a move on her ex is NOT a good idea”
Jinx threw me a dark glare that rivaled my mom’s when she caught me staring at that cute guy in church choir or when I mentioned I wanted to be a writer, not a house wife mother of six. It was like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest and hurled it across the room at Vladimir’s head.
“Um… Okay. No problem. Won’t happen again” I threw a smile that felt forced and faker than most of these girls’ hair. Just then Cassidy was strolling back through the cafeteria entrance, blue eyes bloodshot and trembling fingers furiously working with a lighter. She looked like she’d been smoking more than just cigarettes.
I realized I could never look at Cassidy the same way after learning this crushing news. I mean, she was still my first friend-in-the-making and I still wanted to go to these cool spots in Ocean City with her, but I watched her stumbling with cigarettes while heavily under the influence and instead saw a mirage of her smiling and waving at a cheering crowd like the model-in-training she was, with a sparkling tiara atop her oily hair and a faceless guy by her side, with Shadow glowing and admiring her from afar, those ice blue eyes full of lights and love...
I wanted him to look at me like that, to be what Cassidy was to him, but apparently that wasn’t in the foreseeable future…
Skye
My favorite class junior year was Advanced Lit Comp, so of course I was excited to take the second part this year.
Walking into the Liberal Arts building, a wash of warmth filled my body from head to toe. It was as if all the Cassidy drama that had already taken over my senior year had diminished and I was instantly ready to write. Writing is the reason for my existence. I write, therefore I am. Back in junior high, all the boys and girls at my public school were outside playing softball or soccer or something and I was inside. I still remember that summer day when 12 year old me was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a jar of Nutella—I had a binge-eating disorder back then—and my mom had come into the room. Skylar, go play outside with the other neighborhood kids. You’re wasting away your summer getting fat. I didn’t hear anything else in that statement except “fat”. Fat. The bane of my existence. Most girls, being fed that negative message, would start starving themselves—like the girls at Annapolis Middle School—but I refused to be a statistic.
Rolling my heavily-lined seventh grade eyes—I insisted on wearing more makeup than the WashArts theatre kids—I marched up to my bedroom and pulled out my journal. I wrote in it every day, sometimes more depending on the amount of the daily bullshit I endured.
The fall came around, and I spent eighth grade in my own little writer-bubble. Until my English teacher, Ms. Renegon—who had taken a specific liking to my controversial essays—decided to submit a prose that I’d written to Wash Arts admissions office, along with an awesome recommendation letter. Knowing that someone had cared that much about my success filled me with inexplicable happiness.
I got into WashArts that winter, and I stopped binging and started writing—with the exception of the occasional 10 red velvet cupcakes and the obscene amount of caffeine I consume on a regular basis. I was no longer the pudgy loner that I’d been for 13 years. I was stellar.
Advanced Lit Composition 2 was in room LA104, where I had taken its predecessor last year. As my Converse touched the ground in the classroom, I looked around and remembered why I fell in love with Wash Arts four years ago. The room was painted a light coral color with light hardwood floors covered in gorgeous shaggy rugs, made by the Intermediate Mixed Media class. This room was ten times than an average English classroom: instead of boring desks arranged in straight-ass rows there were mahogany coffee tables and plush velvet armchairs. Instead of a chalkboard there were several artsy, inspiring posters tattooed with famous stanzas from the classic works of Poe and Dickinson—the kind that touched your soul and made you feel something that could change your whole outlook on life. Charcoal sketches on old Harry Potter-like parchment and black-and-white photos of trees were taped to the “Inspiration Board” with the finest pieces from Wash Arts’ Literary Magazine over the past years. The room smelled like old parchment, creamy iced lattes, vanilla-scented candles, and fresh inspiration.
This was the year of the Skye, and like Ash’s Inkling had guaranteed, nothing was going to get in my way. Not even Cassidy and her Band Sluts.
I grabbed my favorite loveseat near the front of the classroom and set my coffee down on the table in front of it. I’m pretty sure I’m the reason coffee tables were invented. I was sure that none of the other Unusuals would be in this class, but it was okay. Writing was the one thing that I preferred to do without my friends. The one thing.
The classroom was filling up and I had a lot of hellos and hugs from familiar fellow writers from last year. God, I loved this class. The Creative Writing kids didn’t have boundaries. They didn’t dye their hair a new obnoxious shade of neon rainbow every two days like the theatre kids. They didn’t obsess over flash drives and graffiti like the Digital Arts & Media kids. They didn’t reek of photography chemicals like Jersey’s gang or “disturb the peace” with Lil Wayne wannabe beats like Donte’s or whine about having too much fat in their too-toned thighs like the Dance girls (undeniably the closest thing Wash Arts had to an army of evil preppies. The bows in their hair were too big to fool anyone). If the other cliques at Wash Arts were peacocks who cared too much about flaunting what they had, we were the gray doves who just wanted to spread our wings and fly. The Creative Writing kids were as cool as cool can get. We were the effortless kind of cool, the kind of cool that…. Okay, you get it.
I dropped my messenger back in the loveseat and that’s when I noticed her. She was the girl from the party last night, but she looked different not dressed up in skankgear. I got a better look at her and started to envy her skinny frame. She had dark blue-black hair pulled up in an annoyingly effortless bun that I’d have to work at for three hours to get. Her clothes though—yuck—she looked like Good Catholic Barbie. Okay, so I did like her long, flowy skirt, but the pink overload was giving me a headache. She needed to ditch the J.C. Penney, fast.
Her eyes looked very clouded and distraught, as if she was over-thinking something. I would know that look anywhere. I see it in the mirror every day. I saw her looking around at the almost-full classroom full of quiet teenagers. Although we were all friends, we entered our writer-zones as soon as the clock struck one. I pitied her for having to walk into a room of teenagers who’ve known each other since kindergarten finger-painting sessions and she’s the stranger who might as well be from another planet.
“Hey” I asked, wanting to help the poor thing out. Maybe it wasn’t too late to prevent the Band Sluts from getting a fourth member. “I got room right here if you need a seat.”
She turned around and her eyes widened with surprise. “Um, sure…” she nervously stammered. She clutched her not-as-cool-as-mine messenger bag and clumsily dropped it on the floor next to the loveseat. Careful, there’s precious journals and pens in there.
“You must be Catherine” I kindly said
Her eyes widened more if that was possible, probably wondering how I knew her name.
“You’re the new girl. News travels fast” I shrugged “I’m Skye”
Her mouth popped open, but before she could say whatever was screaming in those creepily-innocent hazel eyes, our teacher, Ms. Harzwell, brisky walked in the classroom with the familiar click-clacking of her patent leather heels. I missed that sound. I thought of Ms. Harzwell as my mother at Wash Arts—or in real life, considering what I’ve mentioned about my mom previously. She was the stereotypical American South motherly figure, the kind you’d imagine baking apple pies for PTA events and living in a cute white house in the Georgia countryside. It helped that she dressed and sounded the part. She had a warm Southern drawl that reminded me of what Ash’s mother might sound like, had those typical Marilyn Monroe blonde waves and watery blue eyes with just a little bit of crinkly wrinkles on the side, and wore a new floral sundress with heels every day.
“Good afternoon!” she grinned, taking in our excited faces, “To my past writers, welcome back. And to our new students, welcome”
I glanced at Catherine, who was not-so-slickly avoiding eye contact with me on the cramped loveseat. Oh, the power that Cassidy could have over people.
“Look,” I whispered. She jumped a little in her seat, “Whatever Cassidy has told you about me is probably not true. I haven’t been working at a strip club, and I’ve never done any drugs harder than pot.”
“Her friend Jinx said you’re a Starbucks porn star or something.” A smile played on her lips, “But even I, the new girl, thought that was a little farfetched.”
Okay, so she was smarter than I originally gave her credit for.
I turned my attention back to Ms. Harzwell, “So in honor of the first day, we’re going to be writing a piece of the moment we’ve achieved our life goals. The assignment has no rules or restrictions and it can be as long or short as you want, and in any form. After you finish, trade with someone nearby and share what you’ve written. I’ll give you until 10 minutes before the period end to write. Go!”
Challenge accepted I thought. I looked over at Catherine and wondered if this was too much pressure for her. After all, there was a reason why Ms. Harzwell picked my writing to be in her Literary Magazine over everyone else’s in the class.
To my surprise, she took out a light pink—ugh—leather bound journal and a blue mechanical pencil and started writing right away. Maybe I didn’t give her enough credit.
I pulled out my favorite purple five-subject NYU journal and wrote my heart out. 30 minutes flew by and Ms. Harzwell cleared her throat, signaling the end of the assignment. I read over my work, certain that it was perfect but still looking for flaws.
I am sitting at my computer desk in my 1-bedroom studio apartment in New York City, at age 25. I have a huge Starbucks latte next to me—once a luxury, now a daily staple—and am dressed in perfect fitting Seven For All Mankind jeans and a faded purple New York University hoodie. I graduated two years prior to this day. I have a ton of full notebooks and ballpoint pens littering my space. My cell phone buzzes with a text from my friend Ash saying to get on the New York Times website, ASAP. He’s never lead me wrong, so I get online and open the first headline, the updated bestseller list. And then I see it. My name, my book title, praises from authors that I once aspired to be. I can’t breathe. My heart stopped beating, and then started again, doubling its pace. I couldn’t believe it. I’d dreamed of this moment since I was twelve years old, and now it had arrived. This was it.
“Okay, I hope you all dug deep and were creative with your assignments!” she smiled, “Now, choose a partner and read each other’s work.”
I looked at Catherine, “Switch?” I asked.
“Yeah” She handed me her notebook and I gave her mine.
She had written a poem—a good one.
There it is
I can see it now through the lights
Glimmering in my eyes
And the new world around me
What I’ve dreamed of since I was little
Every night, brighter than the stars
I see this day, I breathe the moments
Where I’ll step off a bustling train platform
Fresh out of that glorious university
Born from a coffee shop, I’ll ascend like a comet
To queen of a generation, conqueror of a thousand touched souls
Once I make that golden list, glowing in my mind
For all these years, but now nothing but
My pen as my sword and my journal as my heart
Verses my blood, lyrics my oxygen
I cannot breathe without these passions
If not for these dreams, I’d be crumbling ruins
Falling ever and ever in a dark abyss of the not-fulfilled
There it is, I can see it now
Dreams like diamonds in my eyes
Skylines towering above me, purple collegiate flags
My name up on that list
Burning fire in my heart
You can’t stop me now
I’m only halfway there
Fuck, she was good. No wonder she was the only junior—and a transfer student, nonetheless—in this class. And then I realized something.
She’d finished reading my prose, and I looked up to find those wide eyes holding the same reaction as my own. We were silent. I couldn’t take this.
“What… university are you talking about in your poem?” I looked back at ‘purple flags’ and somehow knew the answer already.
“Same one you talked about” she pointed to my piece of paper
I stared at her for a long moment. She stared back, and smiled sheepishly.
“I’m gonna name you Cat” I pointed at her, speaking determinedly. She was my new project. As you say here at Wash Arts, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
She looked surprised again, and sucked in her bottom lip. “But I’ve been Catherine my whole life”
“Not in this…” I was about to say ‘outfit’, but I realized she wasn’t familiar with Unusual Suspect Inside Joke #14. She’d learn. “Not in this class” I finished
She shrugged, not wanting to argue. “Okay, I mean, it’s your call… you’re a really good writer, by the way”
Screw the Band Sluts. I was going to love this girl.
The Quill: Email
To: TonyPolizzi@gmail.com
From: CatherinePolizzi@washarts.edu
Date: September 2nd, 8:15 pm
Subject: First Day!!
Dear Daddy,
Sorry! I forgot to call you last night. I was at, um, well, my roommate and her two friends—who’re super nice!—invited me to this coffee shop poet reading in the dining hall and I got sidetracked. You know how I am.
Today was my first day of classes and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I honestly can’t believe Mom can’t love this place. I’m already making so many cool friends! But don’t worry, you can keep your gun locked up for now. I made guy friends… but they’re gay. They’re into theatre. You know the type. AP Bio is my first class of the day and my friend Vladimir (he’s GAY!) showed me around. And this girl Cassidy, who’s friends with my roommate Linzay, she’s studying to be a model and she promised to take me to her family’s place in Ocean City. And her other friend Jinx, who’s studying cosmetology, she did my makeup for...the poet reading. Yeah. I mean, the poet readings are serious biz around here. Mafia bosses will understand, right? Jk, jk. And there’s this girl in my advanced lit class (it’s my favorite so far!) named Skye. Are you sure you don’t have another daughter I should know about? I’m just kidding but not really. She’s a senior but we have the same NYC dreams and guess what? She wants to go to NYU too! You’d really like her.
I miss you Daddy. Like, a lot. Have you found your “hella-good” Italian restaurant yet? Has Paulie like his new school? Is he gonna try out for the baseball team? Has Mom calmed down yet? Or has she driven you completely insane. I admit, I kind of miss the craziness. There’s not enough Italian blood here. Just those damn Soviets and their damn cigarettes, as I’m sure you would say.
I’m super, super happy daddy, and every one here’s super nice. The fishes will be awake tonight. I think I’m really going to fit in here. Wash Arts might just be ‘the One’
Sincerely, your Kitty Cat <3
P.S. I’ll call you later, I promise! My roommate’s asleep… too much studying? Yeah, let’s put it that way. Goodnight!