Try and Guess

Ask Ashley

I stare at the skyline, cab drivers' angry honks blaring around me.  New York is for tough people with ambition.  I wasn't that a year ago, and yet somehow I know that this is where I'm supposed to be.  It's freakin' scary, but I'm here.  And I would have never been if it weren't for that stupid Ask Ashley column . . .

One Year Ago

I woke up with a pair of wide brown eyes staring at my drooling face.

I jolted awake and almost fell off my bed when a guy with shaggy brown hair and a devilish grin came into focus. My heart were still pounding from the shock and after affects of the wonderful thing called sleep. 

"Really, Jake?" I mumbled while whacking my friend with an oversized purple pillow with horrible aim. "Why are you here?" I said groggily. "Actually, how did you get in here?"

"It's the first day of school stupid! And I know where your spare key is, Kaitlyn." Jake reminded me. Being one of my best friends and neighbor across the street, Jake knew everything.  He flopped on to the bed next to me and wrinkled my slept-in sheets even more. I looked around my light blue walls, out my window, and back at Jake.  It was really dark outside like it usually was on a cold August morning.

Of course Mom wasn't there to manage my schedule.  Why couldn't I have some siblings?  The house would be a lot less quiet.

"Right, sorry. I guess I forgot there was school today. What time is it?" I wondered. Then I looked at the ratty old clock on my dresser that read 7:26.  All of the sleepiness that shrouded me a second earlier lifted immediately.  "Crap! School starts in four minutes!"

Jake just sat there as he twiddled his thumbs and fixed the collar of his green T-shirt. "Move.  Right now," I glowered.

"Nope." he smirked, popping the 'p'. His blue eyes had the glint that only appeared when he either did something . . . naughty, or a prank. That's when I attacked him with a playful rage expressed clearly on my face.

" Do you want to be late?" I yelled while punching him in the stomach. "Mr. Woodfield already hates me, you know." My Journalism teacher Mr. Woodfield has always hated me for who knows what.  Having him for my Sophmore year was a mistake.

Then he started laughing. "The jokes on you, Kaitlyn!" he heaved.  I stopped punching him in confusion.

"What did you do?" I said slowly.

"School doesn't start until tomorrow."

"You're an ass," I muttered in a low and angry voice. He starts laughing uncontrollably, and I stormed into the bathroom.  "Who says 'the jokes on you' anymore?"  My voice was muffled by the wall but I think he heard it anyways.

The next morning I walked across the street and rang the doorbell.  I guess Jake's parents didn't have to go to work really early like they normally did as real-estate agents, because they let me inside that day.

The neighborhood was relatively quiet aside from the occasional party hosted by that overly energetic junior a block over.

"Good morning Dave and Shirley!" I greeted when the door swung open.

"Hey Kat, Jake's still sleeping," Shirley half slurred.  Dave brushed a strand of curly brown hair away from her face fondly.  "Are you doing okay?" she added.

Swallowing a lump in my throat painfully, I involuntarily let out a small sigh.  "I'm sorry," Dave apologized for his wife.  "She's just worried about you even though it happened so long ago."

"It's fine," I reassured.  "Just don't think that it's taken over my life, you know?"

"I just think of you as a member of the family," Shirley explained.  "I'm sorry I even brought it up, Katie."