So Two Years Ago
Three
Chapter Three:
--One and a half years later.--
I was officially no longer a child. No more school. No more month-long breaks in the winter. No more cash from mom and dad. No more home with mom and dad.
Yep. I’d followed through with my plans and moved away from Pennsylvania. Away from the east coast entirely, in fact.
I was lucky enough to have come into contact with another UArts graduate who lived in the Midwest. He worked for a production company, looking for up and coming filmmakers to help fund their first films. Now, that doesn’t mean I’d become a working filmmaker overnight. I couldn’t be so fortunate as to get that kind of opportunity fresh out of school.
He’d hired me as an office assistant in the company’s main office in Chicago.
Yes, my plans had been successfully met, it seemed. Well, mostly met.
I never planned on losing my best friend my senior year.
Allison and I had been inseparable since Intro. to Film Analysis freshman year. We’d both started school as film majors, and that was the class that scared her off to the Art Department. Despite her shift into Art History, Ally and I made sure to see each other everyday. I honestly saw her more than most of the kids I did have class with everyday. I could never say what it was, but something had connected us in a way we just couldn’t find with anyone else.
Four years of inside jokes, TV until 4am, shared dorm rooms, road trips in the summer and a collection of concerts.
A pessimist-- or maybe a realist-- would say it was inevitable. No escape from the end.
I just wish it had felt more appropriate, more necessary.
--Flashback--
“Tessa-face,” Ally called softly into my bedroom. I lifted my heavy head toward the thin stream of light now sneaking past the door. “Have you seen my paper for Dr. Fredersen’s class?”
Dr. Fredersen’s Methods of Creative Writing was the first class we’d taken together since freshman year. Yes, Allison had changed her major a second time, which was better than a few other very indecisive kids we knew. She was now planning on being a writer; specifically, a writer of children’s books.
“Isn’t it in the common room?” I forced with a terrible rasp and a string in my throat. I’d caught a nasty flu a few days earlier and had been in bed almost every moment since then. “On the coffee table.”
“Oh, yea! I remember putting it down when I was reading the new issue of Spin.” I swear, she’d lose her head if it weren’t attached. She left to retrieve it, “Alright, woman. I’m gonna go turn our papers in. Don’t die while I’m gone.”
“Ugh… Fine, I won’t. But only if you bring me that magazine.” I smirked weakly as she followed my request, placing the book at my side, careful not to get too close. “What? Don’t want to catch my germs?” I fake-coughed in her direction.
“Ewww! Cooties!” She giggled as she scampered out the door.
I snickered at her, turning on the reading light by my side and glancing at the front cover of the magazine. Staring back at me, I found the same four men who always hung over the head of my bed: Peter, Patrick, Andy and Joe. I grinned at them before opening the front cover and leafing through the pages.
Two or three days later, I was glad to finally be out of bed and healthy. Ally was at a meeting for some art club, even though she hadn’t opened an art book for two years, and I sat on the uncomfortable sofa in the common room. After going past every channel twice and still finding nothing to suit me, I settled on one of the many MTV dating shows. I think it was Next, but I really don’t remember. Just as the two complete strangers on the TV started making out, the telephone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Dr. Fredersen. Is this Tessa Lane?”
“Uh, yes, it is.” What was my professor doing calling my room?
“Tessa, I was just looking through everyone’s papers that were due a few days ago, and I noticed that yours wasn’t in the stack--”
“What? No, that’s a mistake. My roommate turned my paper in for me.”
“I’m sorry, Tessa. I’ve looked through all my papers from all my classes three times and haven’t found it.”
“Well, do you have Allison’s paper? Allison Gardner?”
I heard the shuffling of papers. “Yes, here it is. The Life & Times of Dahlia Nixon: An Original Short Story by Allison Gardner.”
I thought I was going to scream. “Excuse me, sir. That’s what her paper is called?”
“That’s what this title page says, yes.”
I couldn’t fucking believe it. I was suddenly struck with a near murderous rage. “Dr. Fredersen, that’s my paper! I swear to you, sir. That’s the title of my short story!”
“Ms. Lane, are you accusing Ms. Gardner of cheating?”
“Yes!” Shit. I really was. I couldn’t believe that I’d ever have to, but I was. She had stolen my work. “Yes, Professor. I’m telling you the truth. That’s my paper with her name on it.”
I couldn’t fucking believe this. My best friend, my best goddamn friend had cheated by stealing my paper. She knew how hard I’d worked on it, and she still took it and slapped her own name on it.
--End flashback--
--One and a half years later.--
I was officially no longer a child. No more school. No more month-long breaks in the winter. No more cash from mom and dad. No more home with mom and dad.
Yep. I’d followed through with my plans and moved away from Pennsylvania. Away from the east coast entirely, in fact.
I was lucky enough to have come into contact with another UArts graduate who lived in the Midwest. He worked for a production company, looking for up and coming filmmakers to help fund their first films. Now, that doesn’t mean I’d become a working filmmaker overnight. I couldn’t be so fortunate as to get that kind of opportunity fresh out of school.
He’d hired me as an office assistant in the company’s main office in Chicago.
Yes, my plans had been successfully met, it seemed. Well, mostly met.
I never planned on losing my best friend my senior year.
Allison and I had been inseparable since Intro. to Film Analysis freshman year. We’d both started school as film majors, and that was the class that scared her off to the Art Department. Despite her shift into Art History, Ally and I made sure to see each other everyday. I honestly saw her more than most of the kids I did have class with everyday. I could never say what it was, but something had connected us in a way we just couldn’t find with anyone else.
Four years of inside jokes, TV until 4am, shared dorm rooms, road trips in the summer and a collection of concerts.
A pessimist-- or maybe a realist-- would say it was inevitable. No escape from the end.
I just wish it had felt more appropriate, more necessary.
--Flashback--
“Tessa-face,” Ally called softly into my bedroom. I lifted my heavy head toward the thin stream of light now sneaking past the door. “Have you seen my paper for Dr. Fredersen’s class?”
Dr. Fredersen’s Methods of Creative Writing was the first class we’d taken together since freshman year. Yes, Allison had changed her major a second time, which was better than a few other very indecisive kids we knew. She was now planning on being a writer; specifically, a writer of children’s books.
“Isn’t it in the common room?” I forced with a terrible rasp and a string in my throat. I’d caught a nasty flu a few days earlier and had been in bed almost every moment since then. “On the coffee table.”
“Oh, yea! I remember putting it down when I was reading the new issue of Spin.” I swear, she’d lose her head if it weren’t attached. She left to retrieve it, “Alright, woman. I’m gonna go turn our papers in. Don’t die while I’m gone.”
“Ugh… Fine, I won’t. But only if you bring me that magazine.” I smirked weakly as she followed my request, placing the book at my side, careful not to get too close. “What? Don’t want to catch my germs?” I fake-coughed in her direction.
“Ewww! Cooties!” She giggled as she scampered out the door.
I snickered at her, turning on the reading light by my side and glancing at the front cover of the magazine. Staring back at me, I found the same four men who always hung over the head of my bed: Peter, Patrick, Andy and Joe. I grinned at them before opening the front cover and leafing through the pages.
Two or three days later, I was glad to finally be out of bed and healthy. Ally was at a meeting for some art club, even though she hadn’t opened an art book for two years, and I sat on the uncomfortable sofa in the common room. After going past every channel twice and still finding nothing to suit me, I settled on one of the many MTV dating shows. I think it was Next, but I really don’t remember. Just as the two complete strangers on the TV started making out, the telephone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Dr. Fredersen. Is this Tessa Lane?”
“Uh, yes, it is.” What was my professor doing calling my room?
“Tessa, I was just looking through everyone’s papers that were due a few days ago, and I noticed that yours wasn’t in the stack--”
“What? No, that’s a mistake. My roommate turned my paper in for me.”
“I’m sorry, Tessa. I’ve looked through all my papers from all my classes three times and haven’t found it.”
“Well, do you have Allison’s paper? Allison Gardner?”
I heard the shuffling of papers. “Yes, here it is. The Life & Times of Dahlia Nixon: An Original Short Story by Allison Gardner.”
I thought I was going to scream. “Excuse me, sir. That’s what her paper is called?”
“That’s what this title page says, yes.”
I couldn’t fucking believe it. I was suddenly struck with a near murderous rage. “Dr. Fredersen, that’s my paper! I swear to you, sir. That’s the title of my short story!”
“Ms. Lane, are you accusing Ms. Gardner of cheating?”
“Yes!” Shit. I really was. I couldn’t believe that I’d ever have to, but I was. She had stolen my work. “Yes, Professor. I’m telling you the truth. That’s my paper with her name on it.”
I couldn’t fucking believe this. My best friend, my best goddamn friend had cheated by stealing my paper. She knew how hard I’d worked on it, and she still took it and slapped her own name on it.
--End flashback--