daylight ✷ tristan dugray (ON HOLD)

01.

chapter one. it's chilton, baby.

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I WAS ON the brink of an explosive meltdown. I went over the first lines of the letter, and let my eyes roam until I reached the end of it — where the black ink of Rosalyn Sebastian's signature was, signifying that it was real, authentic, and in no way a joke. No, this definitely was a mistake. They must have mixed up the address and the letter somehow ended up in my mailbox.

I let my shoulders fall, allowing myself to reread the letter once more. Twice to double check, thrice to make sure I didn't miss the first two times. And for what seemed to be the seventh time, words came spiraling as I let myself unknowingly lose my train of thought. One thing was for sure, my headspace was not in the wrong place and this letter was, in some way that I slowly realized in the most horrendous way possible, addressed to me.

Two things were all I could think of: a) How did I, an average IQ scored-person with a zero set for social skills, end up having a scholarship grant at a prestigious school? And b) How am I supposed to attend classes when I have bills to pay and the only way to get by is working two jobs?

I hid the letter in my bag and before going out to the diner once again to continue cleaning up. When I got out from the storage area, a voice called to my attention.

"Pack up, Santiago," my head snap up towards the person working at the counter. My boss, Pete, did not even look at me as he busied himself by counting the bills and writing on his log book. "It's 7:45," he said.

"And?" I asked, grabbing the tray full of used plates and leftovers. I walked towards the counter and used my body to open the door to the kitchen. I placed the tray next to the sink ready to clean the remaining dishes, and heard Pete's airy laugh.

"What do you mean 'and'? It's 7:45 kiddo, you've got classes," he turned to me. "7:48," he corrected himself by looking at the clock.

I shrugged, "It's alright, I'll go in late then—"

"You most certainly will not. Look, Hayden the money's not going anywhere. Your education however," he trailed off with a stern look on his face. I didn't like that look. It meant that he was ready to give me the serious talk, or sermon, which I will never be ready for. Something about his serious talk voice irks and freaks me out, it's something I'm not used to because it only boils down to one thing.

"I don't need to remind you of how many times I'm always right, kid." he spoke. I sighed and turned off the faucet before looking at him. He gave me the side tilt of his head with his pointed look and I put my hands up in defeat, "Alright, fine. I'll go to school." I said.

It did not take me long enough to get my things prepared, and I was already making my way towards the door before I spoke, "I'll come by early tomorrow, alrigh—"

"Nope. Be a teenager, go have fun. Joan can take your shift. Oh, and make sure you get to school on time today, otherwise I'd have to cut a dollar from your share." his eyes shot me his playful glare, and I could only return that look with a smile.

"Don't you dare, Pete!" I dramatically joked and he only replied shortly.

"Don't try, kiddo. Get to class, I'll see you next week."

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By the time I got to my locker, I had at least seven minutes to spare before class started. With the remaining time, I was lucky that Principal Browne wasn't checking the hall where I was in, because it meant that he would be giving me his 10 minute lecture about being late. I didn't have time for that, especially when I had to go through my locker thoroughly in search for my Chemistry homework. It took me the next three minutes to realize that I chunked it in between my Physics binder. With the bell giving its last warning, I wasted no time and took the binder with me and dashed towards first period.