To The Future
Justin: I’m going surfing today! I’ve never been, but I feel sure that I am on the edge of a professional boarding career.
Celeste: The water will allow you to surf without developing hypothermia now? It’s almost March, lest you have forgotten.
Justin: What? I thought it was August. August of 1975. Wait, what year is it? Where am I?
Celeste: Very funny. I was simply concerned for your well-being.
Justin: And I am super touched and all heartmelty.
Celeste: “Heartmelty” is not a word, I do not believe.
Justin: I’m a wordsmith, an inventor of words that should be. And “melty” is a word, didya know that, smartie girl? Ergo, “heartmelty” needed to be invented.
Celeste: If I recall, Webster’s fell to pressure and only very reluctantly added “melty” to their lexicon. “Didya” and “smartie,” however, are not… Well, never mind.
Justin: Celeste!
Celeste: Okay, fine.
Celeste: Didya think it is smartie to go surfing in the cold weather?
Justin: Look at you all sexy with the goofy words. And it’s still warm here, so don’t worry about me. This winter has been unusually gorgeous. It’s almost 80 today. Plus, I’ll be wearing some sort of protective bodysuit thing. Whatever it is that surfers wear. I best get the terminology down for my impending high-profile career. #Sharksbetternotbitemybutt
Celeste: Please report back with your surf tales. I will be eager to hear. And to know that you are in one piece, without half of you making its way through a shark’s digestive tract. I have lunch now, so I must run.
Justin: I’ll call you tonight! Surf’s up, dude!
Justin: Did that sound lame? Probably. Let’s pretend I didn’t write that. I will investigate socially awesome surf talk today.
Celeste: I would not be opposed should you want to text a photograph of yourself.
Justin: In my sexy bodysuit?
Celeste: Perhaps. Then we would be even, you know, since you have seen me in a bodysuit.
Justin: Don’t think I’ve forgotten that. I’ll see what I can do.
Celeste was becoming quite expert at walking and texting, although evidently her ability to attend to the rest of the world fell to the wayside when Justin was involved. Especially when a wet-suited boyfriend picture might be coming her way.
Boyfriend.
What a colossally glorious word. Not because having a boyfriend met some standard of teen life that she had finally attained. Celeste didn’t much care about that. What she did care about—what moved her heart so dramatically—was that she had Justin in her life. He was the first person with whom she could relax fully. And therefore, life was more vibrant.
In her distraction, Celeste bumped into another student. She quickly apologized, embarrassed at being so lost in boyfriend thoughts that she noticed too late the scene ahead of her.
Finding herself in the hallway of her high school with a swarm of screaming students swarming directly toward her triggered a sharp feeling of dread. Now what? Things had been going so well.
She counted her attackers. Perhaps it wasn’t really a swarm. There were five people. Yet it felt like an out-of-control mob. Something had gone terribly wrong. Her few months of happiness were over. And now, on this Friday afternoon during late February, she was about to be flogged or otherwise assaulted by this group, all waving their arms and hollering at her. “Celeste!” She heard Dallas’s voice rise above the others’. “Celeste, come with us!”
Before she could react, Dallas had grabbed her by the arm and was pulling her along with the whooping crowd toward Mr. Gil’s classroom. Classmates were patting her arms and back, chanting her name…. It was all incredibly disconcerting. Panic inducing, really.
“Dallas, I do not have philosophy class now. I have lunch.” Celeste could hear the tremor in her voice. She was going to run out of air any second, she knew it. “I need to go. I must go now.”
“I know, silly!” Dallas swung open the door, and Celeste was moved forward. “We have lunch for you here.”
Celeste looked into the room. Every person whom she had tutored through college applications was here. Jennifer held a cake, and a stack of pizza boxes sat on Mr. Gil’s desk. She inched forward and looked at the cake. Blue lettering spelled out Thank you! Confused, she looked at Dallas. “I do not understand.”
Leighann stepped out from behind her. “We’ve been waiting until we all heard, but it’s official. All of us got into college.”
“Even me!” Zeke piped up. “And into Kenyon at that.”
Celeste gasped. “That was your top choice!”
“I know, right? Top choice and a reach.” He threw his arms around her. “And financial aid. You made that happen.”
“What?”
“My application was really strong. They complimented me on my essay. The one you made me redo forty-seven times. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Then she was getting hugs and handshakes and listening to college acceptance stories from everyone there. It was overwhelming.
“Speech!” Mr. Gil broke through the crowd. “Speech, Miss Watkins!”
Soda was poured into red cups, and Celeste did what she could to gather her thoughts. Someone handed her a drink and the room grew silent. She looked to Mr. Gil. He smiled kindly and gave her a supportive nod.
Celeste touched a hand to her heart, trying to compose herself.
“I… I do not know what to say…” She cleared her throat. “This is an honor. I am so very happy for all of you. Tremendously proud. All I did was to help you channel skills that you already had within you.” She paused, suddenly quite emotional. “I do believe that you did the same for me. Thank you for giving me that chance.” It was all that she could bring herself to say. It hit her that all of these new friends, her new level of social comfort, was going to come to an abrupt end upon graduation, less than four months away. She turned to Dallas, who knew—as a friend does—to rescue her.
Dallas raised her cup high. “To Celeste.”
“To Celeste!” the room cheered.
When pizza had been eaten, more thanks offered, and the celebration had started to wind down, Celeste found herself alone with Dallas and Mr. Gil, a few chair-desks pushed together. Her philosophy teacher nibbled on crust. “So, Dallas, where are you going to end up?”
“Yes, where will you study next year? I did not get to hear during the earlier chaos,” Celeste said.
Dallas tried to suppress a smile, but gave up and flashed a full-on beam. “USC. Film school.”
“Oh, Dallas, you did it.” Celeste practically jumped out of her seat. “I am unequivocally thrilled for you. I do think that you will take Los Angeles by the proverbial storm.”
Dallas blushed. “I’m really happy. Really. And you helped me pull together exactly what I needed for the application. I can’t believe it. What about you? Have you decided?”
She fidgeted with a napkin. “I am unsure which to accept.”
Mr. Gil reached for another slice. “Where have you gotten in?”
“Harvard, Wesleyan, Yale, Columbia, Princeton. Um… I can’t recall where else at the moment.”
“Don’t be modest. You got in everywhere you applied, right?” Dallas raised her eyebrows. “Right? C’mon, brag a little.”
The napkin was now shredded. “I did.” She forced a happy tone in her voice. “I don’t know how to pick. This is a hard choice.”
“You’ll figure it out. All good options,” Dallas said.
“Did any California schools make it onto your list?” Mr. Gil asked way too casually.
“What? Cambridge’s own Harvard isn’t good enough for her?” Dallas said, laughing.
He waved his hand. “No, no, it’s not that. I was just curious.”
“I am not one for flying,” Celeste confessed. She did not want him to think her ungrateful, as she knew he was the one who had spoken to Barton about her. “But I appreciate the interest that I’ve had from west coast schools.”
“Ah, well, not wanting to fly could be a problem. In any case, I’m very happy for you both, and I’ll miss you next year.” He stood. “I’m going to get a head start on grading some essays, but the room is yours as long as you like it. And these are for you.” He slapped two small papers onto the desk. “A couple of passes to keep you free for another period. Benefits of being my favorite students. It’s a half day today anyhow. Enjoy it.”
“Yes!” Dallas clapped her hands in the air. “Best. Day. Ever.”
Even Celeste, who was not one to be in favor of skipping classes, felt that she would not mind missing a class today. Just for once.
“You girls have fun. And congratulations to both of you.” Mr. Gil grabbed yet another slice of pizza and made his way out.
Dallas leaned in. “Okay, now that the teacher is gone, tell me what’s up with you and Justin?”
“Our relationship is…” Celeste didn’t know how to explain how perfect it felt without sounding trite. How she missed him every second of the day, but how they stayed in touch so much that she felt as if he were here. She sighed, more dreamily than she would have liked. “He’s just stupendous. He is not only a suitable first boyfriend, but a rather ideal one at that. Our phone conversations are quite wonderful, his emails detailed and engaging, and every morning he sends me a coffee picture.”
“He sends you a picture of his coffee?”
“Yes, it’s charming. See he takes a photograph of… Well, never mind. The point is that I am in the throes of my first romance, and I’m deliriously happy.”
“So what are you going to do? There’s that flying issue you have, which I really think you need to get over. And next year? I mean, you’re not going to school out there, are you? Not like you didn’t get into enough good schools on this coast, .”
“Yeah.”
“And you sound so happy about it.” Dallas glared at her. “What is your problem?”
Celeste got up and paced the floor. “Oh, I don’t know, Dallas. This entire college process has not been what I expected.”
“How so?”
“Despite having worked my entire life to be in this position, I am unsatisfied. Unenthused. Academics are all that I have ever had. But I am just now stepping into new waters and exploring other sides of myself.”
“You can’t do that in college?”
“I can. It just seems a monstrous task to manage the level of work and stress associated with an Ivy League school with other parts of life that I already find so intimidating.”
Dallas thought for a moment. “Are you freaked out about you and Justin?”
“I am unclear on what you are asking.”
“I mean, you’re going to be out here somewhere, and he’s still going to be in San Diego.”
“Yes?”
“That’s going to become a problem, don’t you think? You can’t manage to sustain a relationship like that, can you? It’s not like you two were a solid couple for a long time, and then he left. Then you’d have a better base. But even then…”
Celeste finished the sentence. “Even then it would be near impossible at our ages.”
“Kind of.”
“What about you and Zeke? You two will be separated. That is unfair.” Celeste was getting riled up now. “Having just found each other, your relationship will be ripped apart at the seams come September. That is tragic, is it not? What are we to do? The heartache of the high school senior must be like none other.” She flopped back into her chair and chugged down some soda. “Of course, even my brother and his long-term girlfriend, Julie, who had, as you called it, a solid base, could not survive great physical distance.”
“You’re right. We are in big trouble here.” Dallas dropped her head onto the desk, smushing her cheek and almost making Celeste laugh despite herself. “You could apply to Stanford late. I bet they’d take you. That’s not far from San Diego, and you’d be near me. Oh wait, but the plane thing. Damn it. So I guess Barton is out, too.”
“Dallas, that is outrageous. One does not make crucial, life-impacting choices, such as which college to attend, based on a boy. One chooses an educational institution after careful consideration of what the school offers one intellectually and academically. End of story.”
“There’s more to college than just classwork, you know.”
“I know that. That’s the part that I’m not good at!” she said with near panic.
“Easy girl, easy.” Dallas half smiled. “You’re doing just fine.”
Celeste sighed. “Thanks. And sorry. I am a bit emotional.”
The girls indulged in their crankiness over what they saw as the impending demise of their relationships, both emitting the occasional whimper of dramatic misery. Celeste drummed her fingers on the table over and over until Dallas finally slapped her hand over them.
Celeste didn’t like this. All of her recent happiness was going to come undone.
“Dallas?” she whispered.
“What?”
“Do you happen to have a fake ID?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I do not mean to stereotype. That was terrifically unfair of me. But if I were to go by cultural stereotypes, you would strike me as the sort who might, just perhaps, have a form of false identification for the occasional—but I’m sure responsible—purchase of alcohol.”
Dallas sat up. She looked Celeste in the eyes. “I’m shocked and horrified.”
“Oh. I apologize. I’m really terribly sorry to have offended you. Please forgive me. That was very rude.”
Dallas started laughing and cracked her knuckles. “I totally have a fake ID. Whatcha need?”
She shrugged. “This will sound silly, but Justin once mentioned drinking something called an Old Fashioned, and I feel as though sipping a drink might somehow… Oh, this is nutty.”
“I think it’s sort of adorable. You drinking your boyfriend’s favorite drink, thinking about him, letting the warm glow of alcohol make you even more googley–eyed.”
“I don’t know. I miss Justin. And all this talk about college makes me refocus on how difficult I will find the social transition. As you can imagine. I think it is reasonable to want to have my first drink before I am already at a new school, and my parents are away, so it seems an opportune time.”
“Look at you, being all quintessential teenagery and stuff. Well, I’ve got plans with Zeke tonight that don’t involve drinking, so you’re just going to drink alone?”
“It’s just a cocktail. I’ll call my sweet boyfriend and chat with him.” Celeste pulled out her phone and opened a browser. “Do you know anything about muddling bitters?”