"In Which Reality Begins"

· · ·

"Sometimes reality comes crashing down on you. Other times reality simply waits, patiently, for you to run out of the energy it takes to deny it."

- 

Taylor Jenkins Reid, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

· · ·

September 13

7:45 AM 

Averill, Manhattan, NY

https://youtu.be/e1FN047_LT0

Welcome to Averill.

Population: 4, 460... 4? (Psych! I obviously don't have any idea.)

Just your average charming town located north of Ardsley in Westchester County, New York. Known for its urbane sophistication, it is the ideal place to start up and raise fine, bright, and upstanding citizens to make the world a better place.

Now for everyone, it would seem like the perfect life: friendly community, the best educational system, perfect homes — just the plain perfect life.

That is if I can count being a 'town' as a place primarily driven by people from the white-collar class bracket who pride themselves on living the picture-perfect families of the American Dream as seemingly humble citizens. Meanwhile, the not-so well-off residents are cast out to live near the far edges of the town.

And by 'charming', I get a place where everybody knows each other and is ridden by a plague of bigotry expressed in the form of idle chit-chats and afternoon teas.

Of course, being different or nearly perfect doesn't help, either. No man, woman, trans, or non-binary is safe from the upper-middle-class suburban oppression.

Okay, that was a bit cynical to start the day with. However, if you were to live here for the last 9 years, well you'll begin to think the same way as I do — or even worse.

Let me start again.

It was 7:45 AM.

The sun was shining. The birds were chirping up in their nest on a tree beside my bedroom window. But for the people of Averill, the day has just barely begun.

Sounds of front doors and opening greetings of 'good mornings' and 'hellos' resound throughout the upper-crust neighborhood of Haven Crest.

The slow hum of lawnmowers fills the air as they trim pathways all over the lawns, leaving behind newly-cut grass with the morning dews still clinging to each blade. Yes, it was just a perfect morning to start a brand new day and make a good difference in the world!

Note the sarcasm.

As if that ever happens to me — much less start happening to me. Take right now, for example.

· · ·

https://youtu.be/Ij65wvAGX-c

Just fuck it.

Fuck. My. Life.

Scheisse.

Really, just a per-fect start for, yet again, another fucked-up morning.

Of course, any morning that takes me away from my bed is a fucked-up morning.

In short, I hate mornings.

But more so today, considering last night's events.

It all started with a sudden power breakout in my neighborhood.

With barely a couple of hours left before midnight, I had settled into a comfortable workflow.

Tapping endlessly on an old relic (otherwise known as my laptop that needs to be plugged to work) I was entrapped in a secret place of escape from this barely bearable reality of constant madness called sanity. That was until the unthinkable happened. 

Power out. Escapism over.

If my thoughts can only be amplified out loud, the whole neighborhood would be shaking and glasses would be breaking by the piercing intensity of my mental screams.

As if that wasn't enough, I'm running late. Literally.

Also, my bike was under repair. So that makes, what would be a normally 10-minute drive from my house to downtown, into an eternity of walking.

To make matters even worse, I only had thirty minutes to prep, put some makeup on so I wouldn't look like a lifeless corpse, and drag my sleepy ass out of the front door without gaining any unwanted attention from my aunts.

Yeah, that could definitely work. Not.

https://youtu.be/cl3B_FTDKD0

With no time to lose, I did what any average teenage girl would typically do in 10 easy steps — with a playback speed leveled to a "5x". 

#1: Get a quick scalding-hot shower.

#2: Put on my contacts so I won't be blind as a bat. 

#3: Brush my teeth while forming a Santa-beard.

#4: Run around in my birthday suit — 'coz I forgot my towel as always.

#5: Scavenge for clothing. This includes a simple black v-neck shirt knotted at the bottom, a pair of light-washed cigarette jeans, and undies.

#6: Scare the shit out of myself by looking in the mirror and seeing my reflection that resembles a corpse. Literally, sickly pale alabaster skin, colorless lips, long dark ash-gray hair resembling a bird's nest, and puffy hazel eyes with eyebags that would've been charged for excess-baggage. 

#7: Perform a facial transformation in a time-lapse that would've made YouTube beauty gurus proudly cringe. In my case, full brows, dark smokey eyes, dewy cheeks with a bit of blush, and peachy-nude lips.

RRRING...RRRRING, I almost jump at the alarm on my timer.

Scheisse!

#8: Putting on the rest of my bitch-armor. This includes a leather wristwatch, some beaded wax-cord bracelets, and a long thin braided leather wrap-around bracelet on my right hand. On my left hand, I put on my precious charm bangle bracelet (I know, too much, right? But if Wonder Woman can walk around with thick lengthy bracelets up to her elbows, then so can I.) Formy neck, I tie a small black satin-and-lace ribbon choker with an intricate rosette charm dangling in the middle. 

#9: Spritz some random bottle of perfume and cough a bit when it catches in my throat. This time, it's a sweet and spicy floral mist. 

#10: Lastly, tame the perpetual mess that is my hair. When that didn't work, I picked up a brush and tried to make the stubborn strands conform to every stroke. 

I glance at the wall clock.

Verdammt Noch Mal! I quickly slip on my favorite black leather boots with block heels.

Just forget it, it's not like anybody cares how my hair looks(... like a bird's nest... after a hurricane blew over it... in the Amazon forest.)

I rush to my nightstand and grab my phone. Finally, I can g—

Scheisse! My headphones and keys... make that anything else I need for survival! I go back again.

Let's just say that the 10-step prep is a perpetual work-in-progress.

Outside the safety of my room — an understatement considering it used to be a neglected pool house— I take the shortcut through the orchard. Hey, I think I can make it after all!

I was all set in exiting the back gate when I heard a rustling sound behind me.

"Took you long enough."

Or maybe not.

I whip my head around. "Daisy."

Standing in front of me and barely reaching my shoulder was my family's most trusted housekeeper Daisy.

I wasn't entirely sure when my family exactly employed her. All I knew was that she was working here long before I got sent into this hellhole.

She was slender in stature, her short wavy hair peppered with grey streaks. Her warm weathered face and dark wizened eyes exude a silent air of regality.

"Mistress Anastacia is expecting you for breakfast in the dining room. Would you like me to inform Maria to set your plate up in advance?" she inquires, her thin lips pursed.

Her posture is stick-straight as always. Her black cotton blouse is crisp without a single wrinkle in sight. The same goes for her white cotton slacks. Her sensible black leather flats are spic and polished while a thin silver bracelet was the only adornment on her dainty wrist.

I frown at the mention of one of my aunts. I'm not really a fan of their sermons or their nagging and self-righteous lectures like what a member of the family should be, how a proper young lady must act, blah-blah-blah.

I inwardly roll my eyes. "For a minute there, I might've actually believed you."

"One can never be too careful," Daisy tuts, dropping the formality in her tone.

I turn around just in time to catch a black paper bag from hitting my face.

"Your breakfast."

I take it from her, glancing through its small opening.

"Don't worry, some of them are Nutella and banana slices while the others are ham and grilled cheese. I know you have a certain dislike for cucumbers. Also, I included some apples for your fruit and a bag of Skittles," she promptly explains, hands clasped together in front of her.

I smell the contents with an ecstatic sigh.

"Have I ever told you how awesome you are?"

"Enough times to distract your aunts for a short moment"— she brushes some nonexistent dust off my shoulders— "while telling Peter to drive you to town." 

I chuckle. We high-five each other, complete with a salute and a fanny-waggle.

A not-so-appropriate behavior between the 'help' (my aunts' words) and the mistresses' ward. 

As far as everybody in this household was concerned, I wasn't the type to show my affections to just any member of my cold pretentious family. And yes, I consider Daisy as family.

I wave at her before dashing out to the other side of the gate, eager to avoid walking the next couple of miles.

· · ·

8:30 AM 

Somewhere in Averill

https://youtu.be/kmLYVqedTlw

'Where are you?'

The preview reads as I scroll down my messages. I tap the box named 'Tea' and see three more messages containing the same three words. 

My lips quirk at one corner.

Leave it to Tia to be the sensible and upstanding student with the perfect attendance on her school record. It was still an unsolved puzzle of how two unlikely personalities like us could fit.

The model student and the rebellious most-likely-to-dropout-soon student.

She was the Aziraphale to my Crowley.*

'Coffee Day. Went to grab some coffee.' I watch as my username, 'Rebel' pops up with my reply.

Okay, you might be wondering what was the use of me rushing around in my room trying not to be late, only to end up here.

And yes, to those lucky few who guessed it right, I wasn't worried about school.

Come on, a rebel worrying about being late for school? That doesn't make sense at all.

It just so happens that today was a local coffee day. And, on this special holy day, every café downtown offers a steaming cup of coffee for half the price.

I mean, come on, only a fool would pass that up!

Of course, having that steal of a deal means certain sacrifices. For me, it was waking up earlier than usual before the whole place was packed in.

Peter, the family driver and a stocky man in his late 40s, had just reached the town proper and was on the route to my school when I had him stop over to the nearest café I could find. 

I made an order, found myself staring at an exquisite piece of heaven and the rest was a delicious caffeinated history.

Aaah, I sigh after another sip. Nothing beats a nice freshly-brewed cup of coffee.

No. Nothing beats a nice half-priced cup of coffee.

I take another sip and moan in ecstasy.

Tea: Really?! You went out for coffee just now?! The class is about to start in ten minutes!!!

Tea: That coffee had better be from our bistro.

Oops! I set my mug down on the wooden table and straighten my back.

Rebel (Me): relax. i'll get there eventually. ish... p.s. what's your poison?

Tea: Tell that to Crankston. Forget coffee. Quiz — remember?!!

Honestly, I can barely remember.

I try to recall the class from yesterday. It was something about Roman history, then some constant ridiculous bullshit from the teacher who had a fixated preference for patriarchal dominance, and some additional conversational noise for the rest of the class.

Really, it was a hazy memory, too mundane to even earn a lasting part in my mind.

I didn't tell Tia that, though. She might give me a mouthful of sermons for not paying attention in class – again.

I return my attention to the cup of heavenly ambrosia on my table and take another sip. I tip my head back, savoring the heady flavor.

I open my eyes and see the barista who served me earlier standing sideways from me. 

He shoots me a crooked smile.

"Anything else I can get you?" he says.

Just in time, my phone vibrates again.

Tea: P.S. I'll take a cuppa. Earl Grey with milk and honey. No sugar. Preferably a Taylor of Harrogate brand. Twinings is acceptable. Lipton — no.*

I sigh, mentally counting the amount of cash I had on me and half-regretting my offer. Oh well.

I recite the content of the message.

"Got it," he writes the order down on a green plastic notepad.

He was kinda cute with a boy-next-door charm about him. And, goofy.

I catch him still staring at me from the corner of my eye. "Can I help you?"

My cold dry voice seems to snap him out of something. 

"Sorry about that. I feel like I've seen you somewhere before. "

And just like that, his cuteness value wears off.

Here comes the barrage of questions from the local busybodies. 'Aren't you the venerable Anastacia Darell's troubled great-niece? How come we haven't seen your face in the annual Christmas holiday card since... ever? Who would've thought that the Darrell Foundation's generosity also applies to its less fortunate family members? How was it being born in a prestigious family and being nothing at the same time?'

Of course, their choice of words was less of a direct insult and more of a harmless query aimed at the exclusive scene surrounding my family.

"I probably have one of those faces," I murmur, drinking the last of my coffee in a silent message that was supposed to say, Get Lost!

He snaps his finger in a Eureka! moment. "Has anybody ever told you, you look exactly like Anathema Blake from Ender's Tale?"

PFFT! I cover my mouth with my hand, unable to hold it in. The way he said it with twinkling eyes and a sheepish smile wasn't what I expected.

 He flinches, unsure of my reaction. "Actually, it was my friend who said it first. He's been playing for the last couple of weeks now. I honestly didn't think it would work."

I raise a brow in a silent 'What?'

"It was the only way I could think of to talk to you," he says with a self-deprecating grin. "I wouldn't exactly stand a chance if I asked you out."

I cross my legs. "What makes you say that?"

He seems to think about it for a bit. "Um, well you are one of the Darrells. My buddy over there"— he nods at the other barista working from the counter — "told me he saw you once at the Founder's Ball"—

He trails off as I suddenly develop a deep fascination with my phone.

"Like I said, I probably have one of those faces."

From the corner of my eyes, I see him tousle his sandy brown hair, his expression sheepish. "I was wondering if maybe you would be inter"—

"S-S-S-L-U-U-U-R-R-P-P-P!"

I smack my lips before looking back at him with a raised brow, my coffee mug hovering near my lips. "And you're still here, why?"

As if sensing the temperature took a sudden deep dive around my table, his smile wavers, and his entire body tenses up as he takes in the full brunt of my cold blistering eyes.

Not to brag, but I had what my friends would call 'Medusa's Eyes'.* It was this look in my eyes that awakened the instinctive fear of a person and caused me to come across as 'scary'.

Too bad I'm too irritated to relish this moment.

Rebel (Me): omw

I didn't bother to look down at my phone as I sent the text and slapped a couple of bills on the table. "Forget the tea. I'm out."

He mumbles a quick 'OK' before going back to the counter.

Yeah, you better go.

The stare-down victory was short-lived when another message popped up.

Tea: What a relief.

I can still make out the sarcasm in the text as Tia rolls her eyes. I curl my lips at the mental picture. 

Rebel (Me): btw, I didn't get you a cup of tea :P

I pick up my bags and walk straight out the door. I put on my BT headphones and connect them to my phone's Bluetooth when— OOMPH!

I bump into a wall of bricks — wait, make that a hunky wall of a human being — on my way out.

The abrupt force would've knocked me backward and left me with a sore butt if he hadn't caught me by the shoulders.

I brush his hands off me and immediately check on my take-out bag. Luckily, the coffee wasn't spilled – and I didn't need to go to prison for murdering the guy.

I almost turn around and glare at the clumsy oaf when my phone vibrates.

"Scheisse," I breathe, seeing another message from Tia, and push at the door.

"Next time, watch where you're going, BigFoot!*" I call out behind me, sending him the finger on my way out.

Guess it's time for school.

Kill me now.

· · ·

Now that you've seen the top of Ave's priority, what' yours?

Write down your thoughts in the comments section down below - and maybe like this story?

P. S. Scroll down further below for a short sneak-peek of the next episode: "In Which Reality is a Teenage Purgatory Known as High School".

· · ·

TRANSLATIONS

Scheisse — Shit

Verdammtnoch mal! — Damn it!

Fick — Fuck

· · ·

PLAYLIST

(in order)

What a Wonderful World — Louis Armstrong

Everybody Wants to Rule the World — Tears for Fears

And She Was — Talking Heads

Mara's Song — Mandy Harvey

· · ·

*[F/N]*

Aziraphale (and) Crowley — two main characters from Neil Gaiman's "Good Omens". Aziraphale (an angel, and originally a guardian of the Gates of Eden) is best friends with Crowley(a demon, originally the serpent who tempted Eve).

Taylor of Harrogate (TOH),  Twinings, and  Lipton — famous tea brands. TOH is said to be a British staple. Twinings has a much more delicate flavor and more popular in the U.S., while Lipton is MEH (in Tia's opinion).

Medusa's Eyes — a famous Greek mythical figure, Medusa was cursed by the goddess, Athena. Anyone who looks in her eyes turns to stone. 

 BigFoot — an ape-like creature that is said to inhabit the forests of North America.

· · ·

SNEAK PEEK

Suddenly, a pale hand clamps on my shoulder and drags me to a nearby-secluded corner before I can react. The force of the movement makes my headphones slide down to my neck.

He wraps an arm over my shoulders and pulls me closer to his long lissome body. From the way he's breathing near the top of my head, he was taller than me.

I slip my phone into my jacket pocket. The song from my headphones sounds off like a distant humming in the back of my mind.

I twist my abductor's hand, not to break it, but to apply agonizing pressure on it. Judging from the yelp of pain behind me, I was on point.

Smiling darkly, I twisted my body around, taking his arm with me until I was behind him.

He struggles in front of me, twisting violently to free my arm from my vice grip.

I chuckle in amusement at his poor attempts. I twist his hand again, forcing him to bend down an inch or two to have him at face level with me.

In a low voice, I whisper to his ear. "Nice try. You better have a good explanation for me to try to sneak—Was Zum Teufel!"

WHAT THE FUCK!

Taking my surprised reaction as an opportunity to escape, he tugs at his arm again.

Bad news for him, I don't get disarmed that easily. My grip on him is still as tight as ever. I twist his arm even more.

He grunts in pain and settles to shoving his hand at my face.

"Why you little"— his hand covers my mouth before I can say whatever curse I can spit at him

· · ·

· · ·

Copyright © 2017 Lei André