High Life | ✔️

33

I WOULDN'T EXACTLY identify as a 'privileged snob', but would it be a crime on my end to admit my father was being unreasonable?

My room was terribly impersonal for a space I'd inhabited for the past two years. I paced the carpeted flooring, willing my father to barge in telling me it was... all a joke. But then there was the screech of tires against cobblestone. I rushed to my window, parted the drapes in time to see father departing in a black SUV.

I pressed a palm against the window. Glass fogged up before long, rendering my view of father a blur. For the better or worse.

Tears streamed down my face against the self preserving section of my brain. I hated it. Hated feeling this helpless.

I could technically return to Richmond Park - quick way to distract myself from these emotions. For such a spacious bedroom, I felt strangely... confined. Stuck. Suffocated.

Something told me the next encounter with my father wouldn't be for months. It was the longest conversation we'd had in almost a year. Family time's scarce these days, slowly (but surely) becoming an obligation rather than the natural byproduct of love. It was Thanksgiving, then Christmas, New Year's Eve, our birthdays (thank god for digital reminders). And repeat.

It was past eight in the morning. I could be in Calculus right now. I wondered if Jaxon was curious of my whereabouts. If he was, he wasn't the probing kind.

At which point, my eyes fell upon the only photograph I kept in my room. Ten year old photograph depicting a fishing trip, toothy grinned self standing between both parents. Mother wore a grimace in the picture, she never was a fan of the outdoors. But my dad, oh boy, he looked so young and so carefree.

I flipped the frame downwards. Too deceivingly happy for too broken a family. We were so broken no one would even address my problems.

I stepped into my wardrobe, relieved to know that Grandma hadn't thrown much of my clothes out. I stripped out of my nun dress, swapping the puritanical outfit for something more myself. In less than a minute, I exited the wardrobe in a black tank top, jeans, and knee high boots.

As an afterthought, a leather jacket. It wasn't warm here like it was at the West Coast.

I got one of the chauffeurs to drive me to Central High. Grounded or not, I was still my father's daughter. And technically, my parents mentioned nothing about getting myself chauffeur driven around.

So I arrived at the bricked building of Central High in a black Lexus. They would be having first period now. Nostalgia filled my senses as I walked past the sign board, the car park, heck, the students cutting class in plain sight.

Recognition filled the eyes of the smokers. These were my friends.

Alex was the first to hop off the trunk of his car.

"Holy mother fucking," he paused, to get a better look at me. "Christ."

I laughed easily as the boy engulfed me in a hug. Brief as it came, he parted before offering me his cig. I shook my head, fixing my gaze on the three other males present. Josh, Cole and Bret - exactly like I remembered them.

As I drew closer, I started to sense the... the tense air. Cole shot me a tight lipped smile.

"I like the hair."

I'd been away from these people for three months, but right now, right here, I was before them. That was all that mattered. I didn't realize how home sick I felt until right now. But there wasn't time for pleasantries, not right now.

"Where's Marc?"

"Class," one of them said, with an unreadable expression attached.

I crossed my arms. "Never mind him then. Which one of you went and got me sued for libel?"