6/19/14
Dear Calum,
You're my boyfriend. *Insert smiley face with a very long nose that would make this letter extremely informal.*
I like calling you my boyfriend. I like the way it feels when the words roll off of my tongue, whenever I think of it in my head. It just feels so right.
I am a bit scared, though.
I'm not sure when I'm coming to you, or if you're coming to me. My mother actually forbade me talk to you—I'm obliging to ignore her command, since I'm almost eighteen. Even then, I can't just run away from her. She will always come after me, even when I'm at the age of thirty and hopefully married to you—she will find me, and she won't be happy with me...
Not only that, but I'm scared for us. I have no idea when we'll meet each other in person, and that's what scares me. What if what we have doesn't last? What if one of us feels tied down and doesn't want to put up with the other any longer? What if you find someone better than me?
There are so many things that I'm afraid of, and I hate the fact.
I want to be happy with you, Calum. I AM happy with you, but I'm scared.
I'm really sorry for you, Calum. Your boyfriend is a coward and a liar. It's not going to take you long to find someone else, is it?
Forever Yours,
Luke
✘✘✘
Job hunting wasn't exactly the best, but it was all I had to do. Money was the only thing going through my mind right now. I need money. I didn't think Liz or Andrew would just willingly give me money to buy a plane ticket to go see the boy I'm not even allowed to talk to.
Liz was perfectly all right with me getting a job. She even contacted some of her old college friends to see if they could hook me up with a job. Andrew didn't have anything against my looking for a job, but he did mention (quite frequently, in fact) that I was going to be eighteen soon and that I should move out.
Ever since I was in middle school, I feared the thought of life after high school. In elementary school, all they ever told us was that you graduate high school, possibly to go college and/or university, get married, buy a house, have some kids, grow old, and retire. But there was so much more to that. Money made up most of my worries. How was I going to pay for university?—could I even afford it? How was I going to pay for my home, and the bills that my home will come with? How was I going to get a job that gets good pay? Don't even get me started on the subject of family.
I never put much thought into family. I wasn't sure if I was going to get married or not (yet the idea of seeing a matching set of rings on mine and Calum's fingers greatly appealed to me). I knew for a fact I didn't want kids. It's not that the idea of kids didn't appeal to me—I love kids very much, but there's a difference between liking kids and wanting to have one or some of your own. I never thought myself responsible enough to care for a child. There was also the constant fear that I would end up like Liz and Andrew, and I would rather die than have my child go through what I went through.
I sighed, looking at the many copies of my résumé. I don't know how many jobs I applied for. I started out simple, just as a simple assistant or bus-boy (as I applied to work at some restaurants and diners), since I didn't know if I could handle such a big job yet. I looked up from my stack of résumés, and I sat down on a bench. I waited at the stop for the Orange Line, and I decided to go the job that makes me feel at home: the library.
Once the bus came, everyone started to climb on. Fortunately, my Student Pass has yet to expire, so I didn't need to pay the fare. Sure, a Student Pass was almost thirty dollars a month, but I wouldn't need to pay a fare every time I got onto the Orange Line—which, during school, was every day.
I stood in the aisle, hanging onto the rail as the bus took me to the place I wanted to go to. The bus stopped at every bus stop, so it took a while before it got to the bus stop I wanted to get off at. Then I saw the familiar building that is the library. The Orange Line stopped at the stop, and I walked off, making my way towards the library.
Once I walked inside, I was hit by the cold air coming from the A/C. I walked inside the building and automatically headed for the teen section. On the way towards the teen section, I was greeted by the librarian, Amanda.
"Luke!" Amanda exclaimed. She chuckled slightly at her outburst, and she pushed the glasses further up her nose. "Congratulations on your graduation!"
I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. "Thank you," I gushed.
Amanda smiled at me. "So, thinking about colleges?"
"I was accepted into Berkeley," I told her.
Amanda frowned. "But that's not the college you want to go to, is it?" she said sadly.
I shook my head. "I really wanted to go to UCLA," I said, "but they don't accept anyone who doesn't have a 4.0 GPA."
"That's not true!" Amanda said defiantly. "You're an intelligent boy, Luke, and they'd have to accept you! Did you even apply?"
I shook my head shamefully. Amanda clicked her tongue sadly.
"And how are you so sure that they only accept 4.0's?" Amanda asked.
I shrugged my shoulders slightly. "I've been keeping in touch with my high school classmates," I told her. "The majority of valedictorians are staying here and going to UCLA. I know some valedictorians who are going to Harvard, some to USC, and some to MIT..."
Michael wanted to go to UCLA to major in performing arts. Ashton wanted to go to Harvard to major in law. I'm not sure how they'll handle that...
I shouldn't even be thinking about them. They're not my friends.
"How do you know that you won't get accepted if you didn't even apply?" Amanda asked with a smirk on her face.
And so I told her the story of Victoria, my math tutor. Victoria applied to UCLA four years ago, but they didn't accept her because she had a 3.8 GPA. Victoria did a year of community college so that she could raise her GPA. Once her GPA was 4.0, she applied to UCLA again and was accepted.
Amanda scoffed. "She's only one person!" she exclaimed. "Just apply to the damn university, Luke. You'll get accepted."
I didn't believe Amanda, but I promised her that I would apply tonight.
"What do you want to major in?"
"Linguistics," I told her. It's been my dream for a long time. "I also want to major in music."
"I don't take it you're here to volunteer, are you?" Amanda asked, changing the subject completely. "Now that it's summer, the kids are getting into the summer reading program—"
"No, I'm not volunteering," I told her. "I was actually wondering: Do you have any job openings? I can give you my résumé and everything—"
Amanda shook her head with a smile. "I don't need a résumé. You have all the requirements I could ask for. Yeah, I have a job opening. I've actually wanted to start a teen club for a while now, but with the kids' summer reading and story-time and—" she stopped herself "—yeah, you can take the job, Luke. Think you can handle a bunch of teens?"
"I'm not even legal, yet," I laughed. "I think I'm okay."
I spent the next few hours re-organizing the teen section. I cleaned up this little area so that we could host our club there. Once it was about 8:30 PM, I told Amanda that I'd be calling it a day. She bid me goodbye, and I walked out the door of the library. I'd probably need to come up with a reading list that's suitable for teenagers (maybe Teenagers could be the club anthem!), and the fact that I was taking responsibility of things made me smile.
It's funny. I got my first job at the place where I've been volunteering for about two years.
✘✘✘
"LUCAS ROBERT HEMMINGS!" Liz's voice screeched throughout the house.
"Hi," I said monotonously.
"Don't 'hi' me!" Liz said angrily. "It's 9 o'clock and dark and—Goddamn, I was so worried for you!" Liz pulled me into a hug, and I could feel my body tense. I felt uncomfortable whenever Liz—and Andrew, Jack, and Ben, for that matter—touched me.
"I was fine," I told her. "I just took the Metro, it's okay—"
"The Metro's dangerous at night!" Liz exclaimed, still holding me tightly.
"I took the Line at 8:30, it wasn't so bad—"
"Why didn't you call me?!" Liz asked desperately. She was almost crying, and it made me even more uncomfortable than I already was.
"I'm sorry!" I exclaimed. "I was working, and I lost track of time—"
"You got a job?!" Liz exclaimed. Her mouth was agape and in the shape of an 'o', and if it was possible, the environment grew more awkward and uncomfortable.
"Yeah," I drawled out slowly. "At the library."
"Oh, Lucas, I'm so happy for you!" Liz hugged me again, and my body tensed again. "How much are you getting?"
"I believe minimum wage," I said. "Amanda—my boss—hasn't told me otherwise." I could make a lot of money right now, but I knew I could never survive on minimum wage. At least the minimum wage was raised barely a few months ago. Thank you, Obama!
I pulled away from Liz's grasp, and I grabbed my laptop and sat down in the living room. I started filling out my application to UCLA. I still didn't believe that I was going to get accepted, but I did it because I promised Amanda.
After I finished my application and turned it in, I just spent the rest of my time on my iPod, messaging Calum.
hiiiiiiiiiii :-)
why so many i's?
is it wrong that i'm excited to talk to you?
yes, because no one wants to talk to me
i wanna talk to you :-(
in fact, i LOVE talking to you :-)
you're so cheesy
wELL YOU GAVE ME THE OPPORTUNITY
wELL I'M SORRY
so how's my favorite person in the universe todayyyyyy? :-)
i have to go to work soon. UUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHH.
ha we both have jobs :-) i just got home from mine
well i'm willing to bet money that your job is better than mine
i work in a library
well i have to clean up horse shit at a petting zoo
is it wrong that i'm laughing?
YES VERY
well i guess you owe me money
no fuck you i was just making a point
you're lucky you didn't state an amount
shut up
i love you :-----------)
You know what's funny?
What's funny?
My mood always changes when I'm with you. I go from sad or semi-happy to the happiest person in the world when I talk to you. You make me happy, Luke. Sometimes too happy, even. I don't like it when you make me blush.
But you're cute when you blush!
DON'T CALL ME CUTE, ASSHOLE.
Cutie.
NO.
You're a cutie.
STOP IT.
You're so cute.
I WILL COME TO AMERICA AND SLAP YOU.
I really love your pretty little face, cutie pie.
NOW I'M BLUSHING FUCK YOU
poor cally-wally :-(
MY FACE IS A FUCKING TOMATO
do you want me to kiss it better?
yes i do actually
but thEN I'D BLUSH EVEN MORE FUCK
i like knowing that i make you flustered :-)
fuck you i hate you
no, you love me :-)
yeah, i do, and you can't be more right about anything else :-)