The class concluded, and Dusty thought she had safely redeemed her lateness, so she collected her things together and prepared to leave, but Miss Dunne made her way over to her desk and stood before it forebodingly.
"You were late again." Her voice was cold.
"I'm so, so sorry," Dusty groveled. "My alarm didn't go off, and I was running late."
"You're a mess."
"Yeah, I didn't get a chance to get myself together," Dusty explained her shabby attire and ran a regretful hand through her still-damp hair.
"Well, I suggest you get yourself together and quickly," Miss Dunne warned. "You're better than this, Dusty."
"Yeah, yes, I know."
"Start being the woman you want to become." Miss Dunne's instructions resonated in Dusty, and she found herself thinking of Valentine.
Remembering how much she'd believed in her, how she'd risked everything to get her to Princeton, how much she'd supported her, how much she loved her. What would she think if she could see her now? Burning with betrayal, Dusty rose up and nodded emphatically at Miss Dunne. "I promise that I'm going to get my act together."
"Good, make sure that you do."
****
"I can't believe that all your classes are early," Ashley moaned beneath the covers as Dusty pottered around their bedroom, getting herself ready. "You are so unlucky," Ashley murmured sleepily.
"Yeah, it sucks," Dusty agreed as she threw on a hooded top and shoved her textbook into her backpack. "Next semester I'll have to follow your lead and only take afternoon classes."
"It's the only way to do college," Ashley said, her voice muffled by the bedding that embraced her.
"Sure is." Dusty sighed, glancing longingly at the bed she'd previously vacated after only four hours' sleep.
"Aren't you tired?" Ashley asked, yawning on cue.
"Just a bit," Dusty admitted. Her limbs already ached with fatigue, her mind struggling to be alert, and the lure of more sleep preventing her thoughts from having complete clarity.
"It was worth it, though." Ashley finally emerged from the duvet and sat up to look directly at her friend. Ashley's dark locks tangled madly around her head, and the makeup from the previous night was strewn wildly down her cheeks, making her look like a demented clown.
"You're a mess." Dusty laughed.
"I feel a mess," Ashley croaked, her voice hoarse.
"I'm not surprised. I lost you halfway through the night, and you weren't here when I crept in to bed at three. I began to wonder if you'd even make it back here."
"Well, ta-dah, here I am," Ashley tried to sound dramatic but lacked the energy to do so.
"So what happened with Tad?" Dusty asked, glancing briefly at the clock to make sure that she still had time to stand and gossip.
"Urgh," Ashley groaned and fell back into her bedding.
"Guess you didn't see his motorcycle, then?" Dusty teased.
"Let's just say that I'm still looking for my Kyera." Ashley sighed.
"Kyera isn't so perfect."
"Isn't she?" Ashley propped herself up again with her right arm, yawning again as she did so. "You're totally hung up on her," she continued. "Whenever you think about her you get this goofy smile on your face."
"No, I don't."
"See, there it is." Ashley pointed proudly at Dusty's now smiling face. "Dusty Black, you are in love. Your smile is proof enough."
"Go back to sleep." Dusty playfully threw a pillow over at her friend.
"Get to class." Ashley snapped as a rebuttal. "I need you here next year to listen to my man troubles, so make sure you keep those grades up."
"I will." Dusty promised, leaving their bedroom, and by the time the door clicked shut, Ashley had already fallen back into a deep sleep. The sorority house was always quiet at such an early hour.
A few sisters were eating breakfast in the communal dining room, but there was an unspoken rule that before nine AM. all noise was kept to an absolute minimum, and so abiding by this rule, Dusty quietly made her way down the stairs and out the front door.
There was a brisk coolness in the air that made Dusty thankful she'd chosen to wear her hoody. She walked purposefully towards the main campus, full of enthusiasm for the class ahead despite her lack of sleep. She could sleep later, when Ashley was out at classes, and then by the evening they'd both be caught up on their rest.
Rounding a corner, Dusty could see the building that housed her class, a tall building with a clock tower at its pinnacle. In front of it was a grassy area, where on sunny days students would sit out and read, but on this cold morning it was deserted.
As she walked, Dusty went through her mental checklist of what she needed to do for class. There was an assignment to hand in and a test she was currently preparing for. Finally, she felt on top of her workload and caught up with her peers.
"Dusty," a voice hissed her as she headed towards her building. She ignored it at first, but the caller persisted. "Dusty!" Glancing back, Dusty spotted the unmistakable figure of Kyera, her long limbs leaning against a column as she stood precariously close to a school building, smoking, which was forbidden on that part of campus.
"Kyera!" Dusty strode over to her with fierce, driven steps, filled with anger at her blatant disregard for the rules. "You can't smoke here!" she told her.
"It's a free country." Kyera shrugged nonchalantly, deliberately taking an extra-long drag from the white stick held in her perfect mouth.
"No, it's not." Outraged Dusty reached out and grabbed the cigarette from between her lips, immediately throwing it to the ground, where she stubbed it out with her Converse shoe.
"America is a country of fake liberties, where the rich shepherd and exploit the poor, where the American dream is nothing more than a myth, and the real dream is greed. Gordon Gekko's mantra of greed is good should be woven on to the American flag, you said so yourself."
"At least you've been paying attention," Kyera deadpanned.
"You can't flaunt the rules like this, Kyera. You're going to get expelled." Dusty pleaded with her.
"So what?" Kyera shrugged.
"You've got such a great mind, Kyera. Don't let it go to waste because of some ill-judged rebellion."
"ill-judged?" Kyera raised an eyebrow in annoyance.
"Smoking where it is prohibited is a petty point to make." Dusty sighed. "Why not use your time here to make a real difference. Ace your tests, get an amazing job, become a part of the one percent and help to make a real difference in this country. Fix healthcare, make the tax breaks fair, all the things you claim are broken, try to mend them."
"I'm not going into politics," Kyera answered. "Your friend Ashley is the one destined to be a politician, which is a scary thought."
"But what about you? What are you destined to do?" Dusty looked at her with open, earnest eyes. Kyera was the talented person she'd ever met, yet she never spoke about what she wanted to do with that intelligence, how she would wield it as she entered adulthood to enact positive change.
"I'm destined to die," Kyera answered. The bluntness of her response shocked Dusty, and for a moment, she was speechless. Her mind's eye saw her father's lifeless body as his precious blood seeped out of him, the color fading from his face. She felt sickened by the image but also terrified.
"Our time here is so precious and so limited," Kyera continued, reaching into her pocket for another cigarette, which she lit up, but Dusty didn't protest. "We run ourselves ragged trying to make ourselves count, trying to make money, and for what?" The question hung unanswered in the air between them. "You go to class today, you waste a day listening to someone tell you how to think, and then tonight you might die of an aneurism."
Dusty was silent. To anyone else, Kyera's words might have sounded pious and self-righteous, but to Dusty they hit a nerve. In the wake of her father's death she'd continually questioned the meaning of life; she still did from time to time. The fragility of life terrified her, as did the immense question everyone would one day face: what comes next? The oblivion of death, of ending, was overwhelming.
"Carpe diem," Dusty said, her voice small. Kyera took her free hand and lifted Dusty face so that she was gazing directly into Kyera dark, brooding eyes.
"Exactly." Kyera smiled around her cigarette. "This is why you're special, Dusty, because you get it. Everyone else gets caught up in the crap, of worrying about making the grade, but you know it's all about making it count."
"Yeah." Dusty was lost in Kyera eyes, her eyes that were as deep and mysterious as an ocean.
"Like I said, I'm destined to die, so are you, it's what we do when we are alive that counts. I want to be remembered for all the great things I did, not for how much money I made." Kyera continued on her idealistic lament. Standing before her, Dusty recalled a conversation she'd overheard in the weeks following her father's death.
Her mother had been at the kitchen table in their old home, surrounded by bone china plates and a top-of-the-range cooker. Kayla Black sat nursing a cup of coffee, which had long since gone cold. Across from her sat her close friend Marie Shrouder, who lived in a house equally as beautiful.
"It's just none of this, none of this matters," Kayla had said tearfully, gesturing to the room around them. "He worked himself so hard, and now I'm going to lose everything anyway." She glanced down sadly at her cold coffee, unaware that a few feet away a young Dusty sat on their large wooden staircase, leaning against the elaborate wooden spindles, hanging on her mother's every word, which carried up to her.
"But I'd give it all up, every last bit of it, just to have him back. Nothing matters but him, and I can't tell him that." Kayla's tears intensified to sobs, and a young Dusty struggled to understand what her mother meant. They had a beautiful home, full of beautiful things, why would they ever choose to give it up? But now, standing before Kyera, Dusty completely understood what her mother meant.
The trappings of their life didn't matter. What mattered was the love that they shared. Even though living in a trailer was hard, the love Kayla Black felt for her children had only intensified. They still had each other, and that in itself was priceless.
"You matter to me," Dusty told Kyera as her eyes grew misty.
"And you matter to me." Kyera discarded her newly lit cigarette and pulled Dusty in for a deep, passionate kiss. A kiss that started as tender and loving quickly developed into something else. They parted, breathing heavily, and Kyera drew Dusty closer and whispered in her ear. "It really turns me on when you talk like that, when you quote my Gekko theory."
Kyera breath was hot and heavy against Dusty's skin, and it made her whole body tingle with suspense. "My roommate is out all day. Let's go back to my dorm room where we can spend all day in bed," Kyera suggested seductively.
"I've got class," Dusty cited lamely, already feeling her body bend to her will.
"You can either go and sit in class and learn lame, boring information or you can come and get in my bed, where I'll use my tongue to make you see stars all over again." Needing no further convincing, Dusty let Kyera take her hand and guide her away from the main campus buildings, towards her dorm building. Her previous enthusiasm for a day of learning had evaporated against the heat of her own desires.