Matilda Hayden grew up with her father in the Elite Upper Class of Boston, and she quite enjoyed her life- thank you very much. She didn't have many complaints. She was going to be attending Yale, her dream school. She had her best friends with her...
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S4. E3
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧
It was shopping week at Yale, the week where you could try out as many classes as you wanted. Briar was up to her eyes in academic catalogues. Matty supposed if you had no idea what you wanted to do with your life yet that this could hopefully give some insight.
However, for Matty, she knew exactly what she wanted to do. She had dreamt of the same career her entire life. She wanted to do fashion. She wanted to design and sow and see someone in her designs other than herself. She knew Yale wasn't exactly the fashion school of the country, but it was a great place to learn business.
Matty was not oblivious to her privilege. She knew that she could get a job in fashion with the snap of her fingers. She knew she had the talent to sustain a job in the fashion world, but what she didn't have? Any clue how to run a business.
She was confident that she had the talent part down, but she didn't want to just be a talented woman in a room full of businessmen. She wanted to know how to read and write a contract, take care of employees, handle the finances. She refused to leave her designs, the things she loved most in the world, in the hands of someone else. Why should she? She wanted to be smart, talented, and fashionable. She had no reason to believe those things couldn't co-exist.
"Maybe I'll pursue Art," Briar thought out loud. Matty looked over to her and raised an eyebrow. "You're right. I don't have an ounce of artistic ability in me."
"Probably best you steer clear of any easel's after what happened Sophomore year," Matty suggested.
Briar grimaced at the memory and nodded. "What about um pre-med?"
"You almost passed out when we got that tattoo after graduation because of the needle. Plus, you did pass out when we learned about how babies were born in Junior High."
"Ugh, this is impossible," Briar groaned. "If I don't find a field of study by Sophomore year, my dad won't pay for Yale."
Matty crossed the dorm room to grab two water bottles from the fridge, tossing her one.
"We both know that's not true. Your mom would never allow it. Besides, if he stops paying for you to go to school, you would have to go to a Junior College or something."
"My dad would rather go to prison for tax fraud than admit to people that I go to Junior college," she chuckled, throwing the final pamphlet on the coffee table. "So, what classes are you going to try?"
"Um, none," Matty said as she skimmed through a Vogue magazine.
"None? Miss Overachiever isn't going to try any new classes?" scoffed Briar.
"I have my schedule picked out already. I don't need to shop. Plus, I'll be swamped with dance practices. No time."
"Right," Briar quipped. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with you trying to avoid running into your long lost sister, would it?"
