CHAPTER FIVE

foresight

"tell me, maeve. what was the siege of leningrad?" i asked in a voice mimicking mr fennel's. we had an ap world quiz the following day. i felt good about it. i only had to review the things i haven't learned every year since fifth grade.

"when the axis powers blockaded the soviet city, killing hundreds of thousands of people," answered jordyn with confidence.

"wow, maeve. you sound different today," i joked. the three of us were sitting on my bedroom's carpet, waiting for my dad, who was cooking dinner at a painfully slow pace.

jordyn punched his throat with one fist as he cleared it. "sorry, is this better," he asked in a deep, gravelly voice.

maeve and i chuckled. "that sounds exactly like me," she said. "or maybe me after i've smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day for twenty years."

"dinner's almost ready!" called my dad's muffled voice from downstairs.

once we were at the table, me in between maeve and jordyn ( sometimes we need to separate them because it gets too hectic ), i took my utensils and banged them vertically against my table mat like i was a hungry prisoner with a tattoo sleeve. could you blame me though? it was gourmet eggplant parmesan. and it was from dad, who just so happened to be the best cook in town, at least according to my family. he brought it out a few minutes later with a swift swoosh of his arm. the aromas filled my nose. heaven.

"so, how's the filming going, girls?" asked mom, who sat across from me.

"it's going...," i said vapidly. every time someone brought up filming i felt a pang of guilt in my stomach for having not done it yet.

"...to be awesome," maeve added. she gave mom a thumbs up.

jordyn was almost done eating when finally, dad sat down and joined us after removing his stained apron. "it's probably better that you keep focusing on grades anyway, no?"

maeve and i exchanged glances. this was the tough topic that we discussed right after we finished writing the short film. the discussion was inconclusive. she wants to go more into the writing aspect of filmmaking; while i want to do it all: write, direct, edit, the whole shebang. obviously, i can't get into a good film school if i don't have good grades, but wouldn't i also need to have something real to show off?

"i guess it is," i frowned. "but i just wish i had more of a balance, ya know?"

"grades are more important," he stated. "if you put them first, you'll find that it has benefits for your future, too." i hated when dad got like this, all sure of himself. it reminded me too much of... well, me.

"he's talking from experience, love," mom interjected. her too? usually i relied on her to get me out of uncomfortable conversations.

i just nodded, avoiding eye contact with my best friends beside me. this was just awkward to talk about in front of them, and in front of the audience that i make jokes to in my head all the time.

it's my parents and my crave for academic validation that have kept me on this cramped path of students that i know will all end up at a fork in the road one day or another: either being successful doctors, or burnouts.

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that night, i was sleepless again. this time, i was too distracted to think about walker. all i could think about was which side of the fork in the road i was going to take when the time came, or whether it was worth it to stay on this path at all. i can't do multiple ap classes while also trying to do what i enjoy. and it's not even like it's just this year, because it's going to get progressively more rigorous as i move up in grade level. and i can't just stop getting good grades; then my transcript will appear as though i started on the route jordyn's impression of maeve the hardcore smoker was headed.

a new existential crisis was forming. i miss the one where i was just so eager to film with walker, because that was just a playful hyperbole. this felt too real. this was the type of shit i would write an angsty short film about when i was a thirteen year old to make it feel less real and romanticize it.

that got me thinking. what would i do if i was my short film self-insert? probably sell my soul to the devil ( played by christian bale, of course ) for eternal straight a's. hmm, maybe that wouldn't work!

i could... just start the filming process and see what happens, prioritizing my passions. no, this is too abrupt. and i know myself well enough that i can say with certainty that i will submit to the academic world again within two days.

inconclusive, i think my mind got tired of me this time because i fell asleep eventually.

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i had gym class again the next morning and i decided that i would be rebellious and wear jeans. maybe the teacher won't notice, i thought as i walked into school and immediately regretted it. stupid decision, but there was no going back now.

walker was in chemistry before me today. "you're here early!" i pointed out.

"i tried to beat the paparazzi. it worked," he proudly said. behind him, i saw the relentless crowd of paparazzi. principal dowery was walking with livid steps outside to try and subdue the packs of people for the second day in a row. yesterday she tried to keep her cool, but today she was already fed up.

"why don't you stay home until they calm down?"

he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "well, if they don't see me, won't they get bored eventually anyway?"

sitting down, i said, "you have more experience with paparazzi than me, so you're probably right."

i paused to think. the existential crisis hadn't dissipated, and it was hogging up important space in my head, space i could be using for focusing on important stuff, like... school. ugh. i can't have it be my whole life. balance is key. remember, y/n?

i decided to ask walker about his thoughts on that. "how did you deal with ditching school for acting? did you regret it?"

"i didn't ditch school, ya know. i did onset tutoring. but, if you're asking about regret, then i more regret leaving the acting behind."

though it was off topic, this was the perfect opportunity for me to get answers. i felt like a nosy journalist interviewing him, but a girl wants what a girl wants. "why'd you leave acting?"

his grin faded ( i didn't even notice the slight smile until it did; that's how he usually looked around me ). "i...it just wasn't working out for me."

"sorry," i quickly muttered. great! i made things awkward! note to self: never ask walker scobell about his onset tutoring again. i turned away from him, ashamed. can this day get any worse?

"you're good," he spoke. not really, but okay. he flashed his adorable dimples to me for a moment. then, he leaned toward me. "hopefully i won't get rusty. but, i mean, if you let me act in your short film, then that would help."

"that would be great, walker. really, but we haven't even planned anything substantial about filming. like, we only just wrote it. and plus, i'm in a lot of advanced classes and i don't think i'll even have time to film. i mean, i don't think i'll ever have time to film. i'm in this never ending hole of schoolwork and i feel like i might not be able to do anything i enjoy until the summer when it's too hot to film comfortably! maybe i should just be a doctor so all this seemingly pointless work doesn't go to waste! and then i won't be so--"

"y/n!" walker grabbed my wrist, halting my rant. i closed my mouth in a disgusted realization of what i just poured out of it, staring at him. he looked so...concerned? appalled? i couldn't tell. "slow down... take a deep breath."

i can't keep slowing down. life is going to keep on going, i thought, and i'm not ready for it.

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thank you for reading chapter 5!