Char

by Amare, Mercy

  Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m seventeen. I’m too young to think about forever. But I can’t help it. I want to think about it. I want to dream about true love. I want to find that one special guy who I will spend the rest of my life with. And just because I meet him doesn’t mean we have to get married right away. I am okay with a very long relationship. I’m just sick of dating. I’m sick of heart break. I just want to be happy. But unfortunately for me, life isn’t a movie. I can’t read ahead on the script. And I don’t know how it’s going to end. Maybe my life is one big pathetic love story. Like Titanic. We hit an ice burg, and my dream guy dies trying to save me.

  A horn honks close by, and pulls me out of my fantasy. This is real life. And so far — reality sucks.

  “You know, you’re officially a resident of New York City now.”

  “I suppose. Sometimes I feel like I’m just visiting. But today was fun. I officially no longer hate New York,” I say.

  “And that was one of the five things you told me about yourself when we first met,” he says. “Since you no longer hate New York, it no longer counts. So now you have to tell me something else.”

  I think about his question. “My favorite colors are pink and white.”

  “That’s still lame. But good to know,” he says.

  “Also I am random. Like right now I’m thinking that I am sure my chances of surviving the apocalypse are like five in eight million.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, in every end of the world movie only like five people from New York City actually survives.”

  He laughs. “You’re so random. But I like it. So do you watch a lot of apocalyptic movies?”

  “Yes. My sister Chloe is obsessed with them,” I say. “She tried out to play a role in an upcoming zombie movie. I don’t know if she got the part yet, but she’s pretty excited. I hope she gets it.”

  “I’m sure she will. And I guess you’re right. The end of the world usually doesn’t go well for people in New York City,” he says. “You and I need to have a apocalyptic movie marathon. Whatever those people did right we will do.”

  “We’ll be the only two survivors in the city.”

  “And it will be our duty to repopulate the city.” He smiles. “You know, for the good of mankind.”

  “Of course,” I say. “For mankind…”

  “I knew it! You so want me.”

  “Totally. It’s all I think about.” I joke with him. “In fact, we should probably start practicing now.”

  “I love your idea.”

  “Thank you for today,” I tell him. “I needed that.”

  “You’re welcome, but it’s not like it was a chore to hang out with you all day. I had a lot of fun.”

  “Me too.”

  Tristan put his arm around me as we walked back to the limo. It’s then that I realize — I may not know what the future holds, and the ending may suck ass, but I’m going to enjoy my right now. Because right now is what I have.

  MONDAY, AUGUST 19

  8am

  Day one of high class hell.

  The first day of school always sucks, but being at a new school makes it suck that much worse. The only person I really know is Christian. I have a feeling that today is going to be absolutely miserable.

  The last two weeks I have been hanging out with Tristan, which has been a lot of fun. But it doesn’t help me now. Because he’s at Columbia, on the Upper West Side. And I’m at East Wood, on the Upper East Side. And the reality is that I’m probably not going to see him that much. Now that he’s back at college, he’ll probably find some sorority chick and forget all about me.

  The uniforms for school actually aren’t so bad. I’m wearing a mini pleated skirt. It’s dark gray, cream, and dark blue. I’m also wearing a white button up shirt, a dark gray sweater vest, and a dark blue mini-tie. The ties are technically for the guys, but I wanted to wear one because it looks cute. I put on a pair of black, sparkly Toms, and then I take a picture and send it to Aaron.

  Me: Day 1 of high class hell.

  Aaron: Hot. Bring your uniform to the Hamptons on Labor Day. We are going to have some fun… Also, I think your hair is darker. What’s up with that?

  I look at my hair. I flat ironed it today, but he’s right. It is darker. Probably because I haven’t spent everyday in the sun.

  Me: Maybe I’ll hit up the hair dresser and get some blonde highlights.

  Aaron: Definitely! You’re too sexy for brown hair.

  Um what? I actually probably won’t get highlights. I’ve never been big on the chemicals they use. And the last time I got highlights, my hair kept getting tangled, which Candi told me is normal. My hair is too long to deal with that.

  Today I skip the limo and decide to just walk to school. It’s such a nice day out. As I’m on my way to school, my phone vibrates again. It’s a text from Tristan.

  Tristan: I already miss seeing your beautiful face. I have a feeling I’m going to be making way too many trips to the east side to see you.

  Me: No complaints here ;) I have a feeling school is going to be BRUTAL.

  Tristan: Good luck today!

  Me: Thanks! You too!

  I feel better now. Until I see the school. For some reason, it looks very intimidating. I walk up the steps confidently, keeping my head held high. A lot of people are sitting outside, but I head inside. The first person to greet me, of course, is Christian.

  “Heard you’ve been hanging out with my big brother. I’m hurt that you chose him over me,” he says.

  “I didn’t choose anybody. You and I can still be friends,” I tell him. I’m actually kind of counting on his friendship.

  “Good. Cause my brother told me to look after you today, and make sure that everybody is nice. By the way, you look super hot. Did you do something different with your hair? I like it.”

  “Thanks.” At least somebody likes me as a non-blonde.

  “You have your schedule?” Christian asks.

  I pull it out of my white messenger bag, and hand it to him.

  “We have like four of six classes together,” he says. “You have AP classes. You smart?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I’ve always done well in school.”

  “I’m surprised all the weed you smoke hasn’t killed your brain cells.”

  “Ha ha.” I try to think of the last time I smoked weed. I actually haven’t smoked since I left California… Probably because getting high was Aaron’s thing, not that I didn’t enjoy it, I did, but I don’t proactively buy it for myself.

  Wow.

  Maybe my dad was right about Aaron being a negative influence.

  I walk with Christian to a group of guys. They all have their hair fixed perfectly, and their uniforms are without wrinkles. Like seriously, they look like they stepped off the cover of a magazine. It’s weird to see teenage boys look so… prim.

  “This is Charlotte York,” he tells them.

  “Candice York’s little sister?” one of them asks.

  Ugh. Seriously does every teenage guy in America know Candi? “Candi is my sister, yes.”

  “Think you can introduce me to her? She hot.”

  I try not to laugh. “And you think my nineteen year old sister would be interested in dating a high school student?”

  “One date,” he clarifies. “I’d definitely be okay with one date.”

  “Ask her yourself.” Ugh. Seriously. This sucks.

  “Well you kind of look like her. I suppose you would do,” he says.

  I would do? What? “Never would I ever date an arrogant asshole like you.”

  “She’s Tristan’s girl,” Christian tells them. “If you hit on her, she will definitely tell him. And he will kick your ass.”

  That shut the guy up pretty quick. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m Nathaniel Countess. But everybody calls me Nate. And I promise I’m not always such a jerk. I didn’t know you were Tristan’s girl. He usually doesn’t go for high school girls. Though, I guess you do
n’t look like a girl in high school does.”

  I’m not sure if I should be offended or flattered. I’m going with flattered. “Um, thanks.”

  “I’m Levi Desmond,” the guy beside Nate introduces himself. “And I promise not everybody here is as arrogant as Nate. He’s spoiled.”

  “So are you,” Nate says.

  “I don’t deny that. But I’m also not a dick.”

  The last guy introduces himself. “I’m Carter Gillmore. I recently moved here too.”

  “Oh, where are you from?” I ask.

  “Chicago,” he answers. “My dad’s company transferred him to headquarters here in the city a year ago. It was a big adjustment, but I promise it gets better.”

  I like Carter. Him and I are going to be friends. He’s the only one who actually looked me in the eye when he introduced himself. Everybody else had their eyes… elsewhere. “Thank you, Carter.”

  “We should probably get to class,” Christian tells me. He pulls my arm, and I follow.

  “Did your brother tell you that you had to boss me around too?” I ask him.

  “Naw,” he answers. “But for real we need to get to class. We have Mrs. Jones, and she’s super strict. If you’re ever late she will give you detention. She doesn’t give warnings. Totally harsh.”

  Good thing I’m never late.

  We walk into class, and it starts two minutes later.

  Today is going to be the longest day ever.

  12pm

  This is bad.

  My classes so far are all good. I have good teachers for the most part. The students are… not so welcoming. They don’t know me here yet, but I’ve already got a bad reputation. I try to see it from their perspective. After all, I am Candice York’s sister. What’s worse is that the new season of Shores of Malibu aired last night and she slept with two guys in the first episode. Or at least they made it look like she did. I don’t know if that’s true or not. She told me a lot of the stuff on the show isn’t real, they just make it more dramatic than it really is to draw in more viewers. But part of me wonders if the person she portrays herself as is real. If not, she plays the part well.

  Everybody is eating lunch on the patio, or in the lunchroom, so I sit on the steps. There is hardly anybody out there and I really want to just get away. Plus, Christian is kind of annoying. He’s taking the whole looking after me thing way too far.

  I sit down half way down the concrete steps, and it doesn’t take long for a girl to come sit beside me.

  “Hey, I’m Layla Black,” she says. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

  “Go ahead.” After she sits, I turn to her. “I’m Charlotte York, but you can call me Char.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” I can tell that she means the words. Layla seems nice, and she doesn’t look like everybody else here. She has dark brown hair, and it’s pulled into two French braids that almost touch her waist. She has dark-framed glasses, and her face is free of any makeup. She kind of reminds me of Kim. She’s beautiful, but just hasn’t realized it yet.

  “You too.”

  “So are you really Tristan Becker’s girlfriend?” she asks.

  Wow. So not what I expected. She’s been by me a whole thirty seconds, and she hasn’t brought up Candice or Chloe. I might just like her.

  “No, Tristan isn’t my boyfriend. We are just good friends,” I tell her.

  “Tristan doesn’t have friends who are girls,” she says. “Unless they’re sleeping with him.”

  This makes me laugh. “Well, I’m definitely not sleeping with him.”

  “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I’m actually used to people thinking I’m a slut. Which sucks. Because I’m not. But I just let them think what they want.

  “So how are you liking the school?” she asks.

  “It’s a school,” I answer. “The teachers are great. I’m excited about being here. The curriculum seems more challenging than it was at my last school, so at least I won’t be bored. But as far as the students, well… let’s just say that you’re the only girl that has talked to me all day.”

  “It’s probably good that they’re not talking to you. If they do talk to you, it will be to say mean things. They don’t like girls who are prettier than them.”

  “I’m just pretty because I’m new,” I say. “People will grow bored of me in a few days.”

  “I doubt that. And I’ve always thought you were pretty. I’m a fan of Chloe, so I’ve followed the three of you,” she admits. “I was kind of hoping the three of you would get your own reality show.”

  Ugh. Seriously? “I wouldn’t have done a reality show. I hate the spotlight. My mom has been trying to get me to be an actress or model.”

  “It’d be so easy for you to break into the business. Why don’t you want to?”

  I don’t know why I’m talking to this girl about it, but I am. “Because I have ambitions and goals that don’t involve taking my clothes off for the camera.”

  “Chloe doesn’t take her clothes off.”

  “I know. But I don’t want to be an actress. I actually want to go to college. Maybe Columbia.” As the words come out of my mouth, they kind of shock me. What am I saying? I want to go back to California after I graduate.

  “Tristan goes to Columbia.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you sure you’re not dating him?” she asks.

  “I’m sure. We’re just really good friends. Now that he’s back in school, I’m sure he will be too busy to even hang out.” Just as the words leave my mouth, my phone buzzes with a text from Tristan.

  Tristan: Counting down the minutes until I can see you again. The weekend is too far away.

  “Aww!” Layla gushes. “See! He totally does like you as more than a friend.”

  “Whatever,” I say. And then turn my phone away so Layla can’t see what I type back.

  Me: I know. And school sucks. I wish I could ditch and just come hang out with you. :(

  Tristan: Are people being nice? Is my brother looking out for you?

  Me: The guys are nice…….. And yeah, Christian is… well…. Christian.

  Tristan: I hope it gets better :( I have to go. Class is about to start. Keep me updated.

  Me: Okay.

  I put my phone in my bag. When I look up, Layla is smiling at me.

  “Oh my God. You so have a crush on him!”

  I roll my eyes, and stand up. “I so do not.”

  “You’re a really bad liar,” she calls after me.

  UGH. Dang it, she’s right. I do have a crush on Tristan. This is bad.

  2pm

  Letting go.

  When I am walking home from school, my phone starts ringing. When I look at my phone I am surprised to see Landon’s name pop up. I haven’t heard from him since I first arrived in NY. I am also surprised that it doesn’t hurt to see his name. I decide to answer it, because Tristan is right. I do need closure.

  “Hello,” I say.

  “Char… You answered.” It’s weird hearing Landon’s voice. It should feel familiar. He was my boyfriend for one year, and after being broken up for three weeks he already feels like a stranger. Maybe that’s because he sort of is a stranger. The Landon that I knew is long gone.

  “Don’t make me regret it.”

  “I haven’t seen you since everything went down. I was wondering if we could meet up and talk.”

  “I can’t,” I say. “I’m in New York City. I live with my dad now.”

  “Oh. I heard that rumor, but I wasn’t sure if it was true.”

  “It is.”

  “How are you liking it?” he asks.

  Really? Small talk? “It’s good. I just started my senior year today. People here are a lot different than they are in California, but it’s not so bad. I’ve already made a friend.”

  “You’ve always been good at making friends. You like to pretend that you hate people, but it’s just a front.”


  “I’m sorry, did you call to talk about me?”

  “No. I called to apologize for being an asshole,” he finally says. “I was very rude to you. I treated you bad. And I was acting like an entitled spoiled prick. But I’m not entitled. I’m nothing more than the little brother to a rock star. I’m nobody.”

  “You’re right about all those things. You have been a complete asshole, but your apology means a lot to me.”

  “How do you do it?” he asks. “Your sisters are both famous. You grew up in this life. And you’re always photographed. How do you keep grounded?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always hated the spotlight. It changes people. Candice is the best example of that,” I say sadly. “If you can’t handle it, maybe you need to get away from California.”

  “Yeah, maybe…”

  “Why did you cheat on me?” I ask.

  “I guess I was just jealous. You are always with your friend Aaron, and I guess I justified it in my head. I always thought the two of you were sleeping together.”

  “We weren’t,” I say. “I’ve never had sex with Aaron. Or anybody else when I was with you.”

  “I really screwed up. You were the best thing I’ve ever had.”

  “You did screw up. But I know that it was for the best. You and I aren’t meant to be.”

  “But we could have been,” he says. “Just so you know, I still think you’re special. You deserve a lot better than me. I always thought you were too pretty for me anyway.”

  “You know I don’t care about appearances,” I tell him. “It’s always been about whats on the inside for me.”