by Skye Grace
“You’d be willing to dye you hair back to brown? When a role calls for it?” the teacher says.
“Oh! Of course! This is just for fun, you know, Summer coming up and all,” she responds, flipping the rosy locks that Rowan had French braided for their during sixth-period drama class.
“Great! See you tomorrow, Aura,” she smiles before looking back down at her clipboard.
Aura grins, full of hope, and practically skips out of the room.
“How’d it go??” Rowan whisper-yells as soon as the door is closed behind them.
“Amazing! I think!” Aura giggles.
“Not think. You know. You’re visualizing your name being on this door tomorrow, aren’t you?” Rowan raises an eyebrow.
“No, I’m not visualizing… Okay, maybe a little,” she admits.
“Come on, let’s get Slurpees on the way home to celebrate. Celebrating too soon is as good as visualizing, right?” Rowan laughs, throwing an arm over Aura’s shoulder as they head towards the 7-Eleven.
“Celebrating early, are we, girls?” Aura’s mom asks with a laugh as Rowan hits her head on a crystal hanging in the entryway.
“Mom, no one likes getting smacked in the head with hard things. I got pelted with it this morning on the way out!” She pretends to be mad at her mom but it was as impossible as usual.
“Good!” her mother shouts. “You know how powerful Golden Labradorite is for enhancing creativity! I bet it worked too… Both your auditions went well?”
“How’d you know, Mrs. L?” Rowan asks before slurping her sugar water.
“You know I just sense things, Rowan, and no more Mrs. L talk!”
“Sorry… Melissa,” Rowan smiles ruefully.
“We’re gonna go out back and study, mom,” Aura says, kissing her mom on the forehead, something rather easy for her since Melissa was nearly a whole foot shorter, with warm, brown eyes and wavy, waist length brown hair that Aura always helped her dye to keep the grays away.
Melissa smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, as her daughter gives her the affection. It was all she really ever asked for from Aura, and was always happy to receive it. “You know, I really don’t like it when you drink all that toxic sugar, girls,” Melissa frowns.
“You know, they've got sugar free there too, Mother. Should we switch over?”
“Oh god no! Aspartame is a killer! Never mind, girls, go relax. Try not to study too hard, it can create a lot of problems in your third chakra.”
Rowan laughs and Aura sighs as they trickle down the back steps and onto the lush lawn, surrounded by gigantic rose buses of all different colors. The reds are, of course, her favorite, and the scent, while carried on the sweet spring breeze, is intoxicating. To Aura, it was what love smelled like. Not that she’d been in love, all she’d had were a few unrequited crushes, but she feels it through the characters of every book she reads. So many books read, in fact, that she’d already maxed out her extra credit in English class.
They toss their bags off their sides and onto the base of an old willow tree. Rowan grabs her world history book while Aura pulls “The Great Gatsby” out of her bag.
Despite her perfectly scientific brain, Rowan had gotten slightly too low of a grade point average in Freshman English to take the Honors English class Aura had been taking this year. She’d instead been forced to read Hamlet, which she generally has to have Aura translate for her word for word. This time, she’d just skimmed the CliffsNotes.
Rowan rolls her eyes as she sees Aura swoon at the sight of Gatsby’s name as the pink haired darling opens her novel.
“And what’s so great about Gatsby?” Rowan asks, back propped up comfortably against the tree. “What’s he say? Read me a little.”
“Okay… here.” Aura clears her throat and begins to read a bit aloud, leaning against the old Willow. "’Can't repeat the past?’ he cried incredulously. ‘Why of course you can!’ He looked around him wildly, as if the past were lurking here in the shadow of his house, just out of reach of his hand.”
“So… What?” Rowan asks, sounding bored as hell.
“What? What is that he was in love,” Aura beams. “And that he never fell out. After all that time. He worships Daisy and believes in falling in love, all over again. Believes in second chances… and soul mates. But it’s not only him that I love,” she sighs, “It’s what he represents.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” Rowan asks skeptically.
“Well… Lots of things. The plight of the American Dream, for one thing. But for me… He represents… having everything you ever wanted, all your wildest dreams coming true. And how none of it means anything if you don’t have love,” Aura coos, resting her head back on the tree, it’s soft roughness comforting, filled with the knowledge of what could be a million novel pages. She swears for a second that she sees stars in her eyes.
“You’re such a sap!” Rowan laughs. “You enjoy your Gatsby, I’m going to focus on these Greek myths for History.”
“I got a hundred on that test! Let me know if you need help studying,” Aura mumbles, already lost in Gatsby.
“Aur!” her mom calls, sticking her head out the back door. “Dad’s at the mall. He’s asking if there’s anything you want.”
Rowan laughs at the thought of Aura’s hippie musician dad shopping at the mall.
“I told you guys, all I want for my birthday this year is a boyfriend. I don’t think Dad’ll be too good at recruiting one there, he’ll scare them all off!” She scoffs.
“He’s there because Aunt Kari said she saw ‘Protectors’ t-shirts at the Hot Topic.”
Aura and Rowan gasp. “They have shirts now?!” The girls shriek.
“Blaise and Brody each have their own shirt, Dad says,” Melissa laughs. “Let me guess…”
“Blaise in a size large for me!” Aura shouts.
“And a Brody for me, small please! I’ve got a 20 in my pocket!” Rowan could not be more excited. Brody, she thinks, feeling herself practically turn to molten lava right there on the lawn. Those swoopy, shaggy, walnut colored locks, his perfect white smile, the nose that’s a little wide but not too wide, that firm, long body, so tall, so buff, so perfect.
“Brody…” Rowan whispers to her best friend with a snicker as Melissa walks back inside the house. “I’d like to climb him like a tree!”
“Jameson’s cute…” Aura agrees, “He’s adorable! But Jacksen… Jacksen’s perfect.” Rowan shakes her head softly and picks up Aura’s iPod, picking an album from their mutual favorite band, a bunch of So-Cal punks called the HeartAttacks, and resumes studying.
Aura reads a little more Gatsby and then closes her eyes, her sugar high wearing off as she feels herself not doze but rather drift towards the Jay Gatsby in her mind. Of course it was really a vision of Jacksen in Gatsby’s clothing, his typical spiky hairstyle traded for a smoothed over side part, his casual jeans and flannels traded for a 1920’s pinstriped suit. He reaches out a gloved hand to her, and she takes it without hesitation.
Something catches her attention, and she’s instantly snatched from her daydream. From the corner of her eye, she sees a flash of white. Groggily, she gets to her feet and walks right past Rowan, who’s obliviously absorbed in her history book.
She giggles to herself, thinking that Rowan is likely imagining that the almighty Zeus bears a striking resemblance to Jameson Peters, chuckling as she wanders through the expansive, wooded yard.
Aura lets out a little gasp as she sees it again, flitting around the corner of her house. She swears she hears the words, “Late, we’re late,” as she follows the the vision of white. A bit of blue. A little blonde. What could it be? Or rather, who?
She trails it to the side yard, the ground bumpier than she remembers as her foot gets stuck in a dip in the dirt. She yanks and pulls and can’t get it free, until finally she feels herself flying out and over, head first into a much larger dip, more like a cavernous, dark hole, into which Aura’s whole body tumbles.
&
nbsp; A spike of adrenaline rushes from Aura’s solar plexus and up and through her veins, and after that, nothing. No anxiety, no fear. Just falling. “How unlike me,” she marvels, stretching out her arms to touch what looks like flashes of sparkle, pink and gold, in the dirt. “It’s almost like I can see through it,” she gasps, “into something… more beautiful.”
She continues to tumble, touching, wondering, but not worrying, until finally she lands, incoherent, on something as soft as down, steady as the earth.
Chapter Three
“You’re late, birthday girl!”
Her head is spinning, she can’t seem to orient herself. Could that be because this isn’t her room? No Jacksen Andrews poster on the ceiling, no puffy white clouds painted against baby blue walls, no punk rock posters, just perfect white. Everywhere.
A soft, billowing ivory canopy surrounding her bed sways from a breeze coming in from the window. Only this isn’t her cozy double bed, but rather an enormous four poster one that could only be described as a California King.
Her eyes attempt to focus on her mom, the only person that would typically be waking her, but this person in the doorway, hollering for her to get up, it was all wrong. The striking blonde hair, iridescent blue eyes, the fluffy white she had chased in her yard. The last thing she remembers.
This isn’t mom, Aura thinks, and it’s no white rabbit, either. She trails after the thoughts in her head, trying to make sense of them but none of them stick to anything vaguely resembling reality. The thick, white robe is surrounding a beautiful blonde girl who appears to be in her early 20’s, the vision she was after has become her reality. Was that a dream? Or is this?
“Aura, wake up! They’re waiting for us - birthday brunch on the balcony, getting cold!” The blonde singsongs as she leaves the bedroom, door still open.
She attempts to stand but, upon looking out the bedroom window, Aura instead faints, falling back on the bed until the blonde comes to rouse her several minutes later.
“Seriously Aur? Come on!” The blonde hovers over her, and her body seems to just trust her, letting the thin but not too thin, somehow super strong girl drag her out of the giant bed.
She stares blankly at the blonde, wondering how someone can be so cute and yet so gorgeous at the same time. The pouty, pink lips, the high cheekbones, the perfectly messy long, blonde locks, and nose slightly longer than Aura’s but still buttony adorable.
Perhaps it’s the staring but something tells this girl Aura is not quite right. “Did you take something last night?” the blonde asks with a laugh.
“Um… no. Not that I remember,” Aura says. Her voices sounds different, even to her. It’s lower, huskier, as if it’d encountered a plethora of smoke and experience. Her body begins to tremble as the girl pulls her closer to the door that has next to it a full length mirror. Aura turns back, pulling away, afraid of what she may find in the reflection. She knows she’s herself, the girl is calling her by name, but everything else is wrong. Panic spreads across her chest, creeping across her body like kudzu, covering every inch.
Looking out the window behind the bed, she isn’t able to believe what her eyes are telling her is real. Below her is an expansive glass patio beside a beautiful swimming pool, overlooking the beach… the ocean. “I live here?” she whispers, incredulous.
“I know, right?” the blonde giggles. “I can’t get used to it either! Now are you coming? I had this whole birthday breakfast catered for you, babe!”
Aura eyes her and her proximity to the mirror tentatively, and tries to pass it without looking but can’t. She glances at the reflection and all the air rushes from her lungs.
The girl giggles, watching her watch the strange image in the glass. How was she so perky this early in the morning? Aura doesn’t have time to really wonder. She’s too transfixed on this face, this body, in the mirror before her. Is this really me?
“Yeah, it was a fun night but it did kinda take a toll. You want some of my eye cream?” she asks Aura cheerily, running to get a makeup wipe from a large, white chiffonier. “Here!” she says, wiping away the smeared eyeliner and mascara to reveal eyes relatively bright for the day after a night of partying, if that’s really what she did, and skin glowing despite a little purple under her eyes. Her lashes were longer, her brows impeccable, her teeth whiter and straighter than she’d ever seen them.
Could this all be mine? She wonders, wrapping her fingers around a fistful of gleaming, chestnut, waist length hair. She gives it a firm tug, and despite her confusion and fear, her pink lips turn into a small smile. She’s secretly always wanted hair this long, and it appears to all be hers. And hips this curved and a stomach this flat. And boobs like this. God, are these real?
Her little, white cotton nightie left little to the imagination. She wasn’t sure who awaited her downstairs, but thought she should at least cover up a little. “Uh, can I have a robe?” she asks the beaming blonde.
“Of course, if you get your butt downstairs right now!”
The girl ducks into a huge walk-in closet to retrieve another fluffy white robe, and Aura wraps it around her new body as she follows her down a grand stairway leading her out to the balcony. Fresh sea air hits her pores, opening them, and she inhales slowly, taking in the beauty of the view as the warm...this couldn’t be Seattle...sun hits her face. Everything here is hers, and everything is so perfect, she almost forgets for a second that she’s terrified. This is a dream I can go along with, I guess, she almost smiles to herself.
“Happy birthday!” The blonde from upstairs and three more of the most beautiful people Aura has ever seen in real life shout, crowding around her. They hug her tightly and she feels her heart squeeze in her chest, almost as if these strangers mean the world to her.
They’re also all wearing white robes, which leads her to believe they all slept over. At her house. Their house? They usher her to a table on the patio covered with fresh fruit and pastries, the only man in their group popping a bottle of champagne and adding it to flutes of freshly squeezed orange juice around the table.
She doesn’t take the drink at first, having really only drank once, but when the mind bogglingly handsome young man flashes a sparkling grin and says to her, laughing, “I know you only drink Veuve,” she forces one right back, taking the glass he offers. She reads the bottle, seeing that brand on the bottle and realizing he must have picked it up just for her. Who is he? Not my boyfriend? I’d remember if he was, wouldn’t I? She eyes the glass nervously.
“Come on!” he chides, “It’ll make you feel better about getting old!” he jokes. What happens when you drink in a dream? She wonders, still not sold on the fact that this could be reality, her actual reality, just futurized somehow. “Come on, drink me!” he says in a goofy little voice.
She takes a sip and he clinks a glass to hers. She sighs, “Taylor,” the word slips from her lips affectionately, the knowledge of the name making her jump.
“You okay, Aur?” Taylor asks, his messy brown hair framing everything else about him that was the most beautiful tawny shade of russet, his patchy stubble, his deep brown eyes, and thick eye brows. The blonde wraps an arm around him, kissing him on the cheek.
Aura’s heart thrums as she turns to her, smiling, and words seem to just flash across her view of her, Best! Best! Best! She grins at her automatically, knowing she has nothing to be afraid of. This is her roommate and best friend, they bought this house together, the two of them, that’s how much trust they share. The word floats across her mind, Alexis.
Alexis smiles back, and it’s like looking directly into the sun. She pops a blueberry in her mouth and then raises her glass, “To Aura!” She brings her glass to meet the others, they toast to her and all take drinks of their mimosas. Aura takes another sip, and her hands stop shaking, her nerves momentarily calmed.
This isn’t a dream, this is your life, the thought comes to her, as clear as day, and she doesn’t know how, but she believes it. She holds on to it like it’s th
e only thing that can keep her afloat.
Her awareness is brought to the two other girls at the table, equally as gorgeous as Alexis but in such different ways. How do I know them? She wonders. Her mind unfocuses and refocuses like a fritzing camera on auto.
This wasn’t the fuzzy, bubbly brain feeling she remembered getting after sipping champagne with her parents on New Year’s. This wasn't a fizzy lifting drink but rather an anchor, holding her by a thread, a thin chain, to this new life. To this older, wiser, more experienced Aura. Giving her bits and pieces, possibly providing at least a little pathway to how she got here… how she got to age…
“How old am I?” Aura gasps. Alexis, Taylor, and the two beautiful girls laugh hysterically.
She stares blankly at the other two girls, one with big brown eyes and wavy, long dark hair, skin the color of a caramel frappuccino. “Aura, you’re hilarious,” she smiles, an awareness creeping over her, telling her that the beauty’s name is Sage. One of the purest, sweetest people Aura knows, and that she works with Alexis and Taylor every day.
The other was less drop dead gorgeous, but playfully beautiful, light blonde hair was cascading down her shoulders, streaks of cotton candy pink and sky blue hues within, mixed with chunky braids and glitter, lots of glitter. Her big, toothy grin revealed a gold cap near the front of her smile, and her dark blue eyes were set off by her golden, white girl tan like the one Aura had. “You’ve been telling everyone you’re 21 for so long you forgot!” she laughs.
There’s just something so larger than life about her. She takes a sip and closes her eyes, and when she opens them, she tries to pick up her dropped jaw but just can’t seem to. My other best friend is a freaking pop star?!
Instinctively, Aura picks up a raspberry and throws it at the girl the world knows simply as MONROE… which actually is her real name.
“Shut up, Skank!” Aura says with a laugh, then covers her mouth, not able to believe what just came out.
“Slag!” The pop star shouts the insult that Aura didn’t even know was a word.
