1 - Point A to B
An hour, six minutes, and forty-two seconds. That’s how long it took for me to think about where to go.
Why did it take me so long? In more ways than one, I had to choose between two schools. Either I stay in Raymount or I leave to an interesting town called Marble Brooke. I had to choose between two places that either catered to my apathy or the one that I’ve been doing relatively well in.
Did it matter where I go? It did. Education matters not because one day I’ll be some cookie-cutter inspirational writer like most Young Adult authors are, but I don’t think I know shit about writing. Sure I’ve read my fair share of classic literature and modern stories...that doesn’t mean I was absolutely confident in what I should write.
These decisions are compromising.
Raymount — My new hometown, is beautiful and everything puts me at ease. It wasn’t just because we moved here six years ago. Back in middle school, I studied in the Silverleaf Institute. Yeah — some pretentious name for a private school right?
Well, sorry for the privilege. Parents decided that was a great idea. They own a shit ton of hotels and I’m sort of the caretaker of their suburban lot. It all started when my dad decided to partner up with this real estate guy who took all this land and invested in it. Lived here and everything felt great.
Silverleaf was one of many pocket campuses nestled in a city and Marble Brooke rivaled it — kind of ironic huh? So why did I pick M.B.S.?
Marble Brooke was my hometown. I used to live there and I really liked this mountain side town. There are a lot of businesses with a good share of indie areas where I got myself geared to do something creative.
The campus was still prestigious. Don’t get me wrong - It’s just one campus in some mountain town... It’s brilliant. You’ve got curricula that can cater to what you want to do in your professional life.
The people are great, but they're snobbish kids who could do things based on how confident they are. You’ve got kids that could be huge business tycoons. Really edgy filmmakers who could scare the crap out of you with some old-fashioned horror ideas... All that shit. The only minor downside is that they tend to go a bit broad on what they teach.
There is a social hierarchy to this whole thing... It’s best not to conform to everybody’s social bullshit. It was one of the reasons why I wanted to doubt the entire thing. All I need to do is to really ground myself to this whole thing. That and my close-set of friends have been with me. I kept going because of them.
I registered after that hour, packed all my shit, and made sure the entire house was on lock down. All that was left was to call my good friend who moved along with me.
“Dean! ’sup twat,” I greeted.
“Mr. Kenric, I don’t appreciate that tone,” he said in a mocking low tone.
“Well, I’m sorry for being so PG up on your ass... Anyway, should I pick you up? Got my pickup ready.”
“Yeah... You got some room for me right?”
“Sure — But I doubt we have room for you.”
“Well, that’s the same generic fat joke you tell me every year... It’s getting stale, got anything new?”
“Nope.”
“Says the writer.”
“Kiss my ass.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t want to kiss your hemorrhoids.”
“Dude, don’t describe your own ass to me... I’m gonna head off to your place... Be sure to get your pit stop list ready.”
“Gotcha Al... Say I do have one question though.”
“What is it?”
“Why don’t you have a house in Marble Brooke again?”
“Insert some long-winded anecdote about how the Kenrics own hotels and that their new base of operations stands in some suburb because of real estate partnerships. Whatever. See you there.”
“Don’t play jazz all the way,” he whined.
“Too fucking bad. I need Ella Fitzgerald in my car.”
“Bet you want to screw-” I hung up to save another joke about me sleeping with jazz artists that I like. Asshole.
While driving through the city, I passed by Silverleaf for a moment. The place looked great...
Other than that, I loved how bright dawn stood out from the skyscrapers. The silver shines were subtle and the autumn leaves weren’t falling off yet. People always say autumn is always cold...there’s that hidden warmth that I really like about the ordeal.
Then I stopped by Dean’s apartment.
Dean wore his Rolling Stones shirt that seemed to fit him well, his glasses hung down from his stout nose, and his fuzzed up hair flopped around.
“Sup douche. Need help with that?” I got out of the car and went up to his luggage and boxes on the sidewalk.
“Not subtle are you? And yeah. Help out with my luggage.” He loaded up the boxes. I leaned up against my pickup after placing it next to mine in the back seat.
“Right then friend-o. Let’s ditch this place. Said bye to you folks?”
“Yep. But first... Coffee.”
“Agreed.”
