Sean didn't want to go to Yale. Ridiculous, you might think. Some of the most successful people graduated from Yale. It's virtually the key to the gates of fame and happiness. It seems ludicrous to reject that idea. But Sean didn't want to go to college at all. He wanted to be an author, and he wanted to be an author right now. Sean had already pitched an idea for a novel to a publishing company in his area. He hadn't told anyone yet. Not even his mother. Or his sister. It was his secret for now. He wasn't even sure the publisher would accept his idea. Sean didn't want to get his family's hopes up for nothing. A way for some extra money snatched out of their hands because of his failure. He would tell them when the time was right, and he felt confident.
Right now, he's standing in front of his bathroom mirror, fixing his bright ginger hair in the tamest way possible. His grey eyes stared back at him, the royal blue flecks reflecting in the dim light of the lamp above him. His eyes gave his face a sense of knowledgeableness. Like, he had witnessed things even fully grown adults hadn't. Like he had been through more than your average eighteen-year-old. When his hair looked more acceptable, he straightened out the deep green tie on his neck and left.
Joey, on the other hand, was thrilled to be attending Yale. She'd never really been outstanding. She was okay with that. In fact, she preferred not to be seen. Her few friends were her only friends, and she wouldn't want it any other way. So, going to one of the most prestigious schools in the country seemed too good to be true.
She's also standing in her mirror. She's running through her pale red hair with a brush, letting it fall onto her stomach. Her black dress contrasted with her electric blue eyes, which seemed bleaker, and slightly more muted today. She was focusing on taking deep breaths. This day would be over soon enough. Her father called her from downstairs, his voice timid and full of pity. Joey set the hairbrush down on her dresser, took another long, deep breath, and left her bedroom.
Iris felt split. She wasn't sure how to react. What was too much, or too little excitement? It was especially hard to pick an emotion on a day like today. Her acceptance letter had come only earlier that morning. She wasn't sure how to feel. Of course, in her circumstances, she was devastated. But getting the letter she had been waiting for distracted her, and it brought on a layer of guilt. This isn't what she should be thinking about right now. Getting that letter made her heart leap with a joy that she should be guilty of. All her friends were going to Yale. At least, they had all applied to Yale. She wasn't sure how many would get in. Surely she would go. It had looked a little uncertain for some of her friends. She knew if Joey and Charlie didn't get in, they would run away together. They were always together. She thought that Taylor and Adira had a good chance of getting in on sports scholarships. They were the two most athletic people she knew. And she knew a lot of people.
Irish had fully washed and conditioned her curly hair. Her green eyes shone through her own mirror as she clasped her gold necklace around her dark-skinned neck. The flowy off-white dress was the only formal thing in her closet. When she found it, it had been surrounded by about fifty crew-neck sweaters and around seventy more band t-shirts. She owned plenty of fancy shoes though. On her feet were gold-colored heels that made her feel much taller than she actually was. Iris pulled her hair up in a lilac ribbon, tying it neatly in a bow. Then, she turned the lights off in her room and left.
Adira was banished. To her basement. She hadn't opened her letter yet. In fact, she didn't even know it had arrived. She had been in the "dojo" all weekend. Training and preparing for the next tournament. Only going upstairs to eat and sleep. There was a bathroom connected to her makeshift dojo in case she was hurt during training. She had applied to several colleges, but she had only heard back from one so far. Brown University. They responded with a curt rejection letter. Adira wasn't too discouraged, she had plenty of other options anyway, but her parents sent her to the dojo. Clearly, something had gone wrong with her and the only way to get it out of her system was to make her punch a bag hanging from the ceiling for two days. They would usually make it three, but today is punishment enough by itself. Adira really liked the training. It made her feel stronger. Like she could finally protect herself after all these years of being helpless. Taekwondo was a glorious escape from the ugly truth of the real world.
She sparred around the pad. Almost done. So close. I can do it. She thinks. She imagines the pad as one of the men from the street, and she almost knocks it down from its hanging position. Breathing heavily, she pushed her blonde money pieces out of the way and left the dojo to get ready for what she had no idea would be the worst day ever.
YOU ARE READING
A Bunch of Random Scenes I Wrote for My Book(s)
FantasyI'm constantly writing. But most of the time I'm not writing all the scenes in my book in the order they'll be put in in the final copy. These are just all those scenes that I've written so far, completely out of order.
