The Fragile Ordinary

“Vicki?”

“Hmm?”

“Is everything okay?” My skin heated as I worried I was crossing a line by asking. “Between your mum and dad?”

Her gaze dropped to the floor and she swallowed. Hard. Expelling a weighted breath, she shrugged. “They argued all summer.”

Not knowing what it must be like to have parents that argued since mine rarely did, I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

Her gaze flew to mine, and I saw the anguish she’d been hiding. “A lot of it is about money. And about me.”

“About you?”

“I’m costing them a lot.” She gestured to the area of her bedroom dedicated to her design work. “None of that comes cheap. Plus, Dad doesn’t think it’s smart to just apply to London College of Fashion and the Rhode Island School of Design. And he thinks applying to Parsons is pointless.”

It was true, Parsons School of Design in New York was one of the best design schools in the world and incredibly hard to get into, but if anyone could, it would be Vicki. I told her so.

She looked saddened rather than encouraged. “Dad wants me to apply for a business degree at St. Andrews.”

I made a face, my stomach twisting with the thought. “No. No way. Vicki, you have to pursue fashion. You’re amazing at it.”

“Mum agrees.” She gave me a tired smile. “Which is why she and Dad have been arguing a lot. Dad thinks it’s all a waste of money.”

“I don’t get it. Your dad was always so supportive.”

“Well, now reality is setting in and he realizes it’s no longer a hobby.” She shook her head. “Never mind. It’ll work out. I’m sorry about Steph in English. I was hoping we’d sit together.”

I moved with the abrupt change in subject, although I was concerned Vicki had been dealing with this all summer and hadn’t told me. And probably wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t felt the tension in the house. Did Steph know? It bothered me to think Vicki had confided in Steph and not me.

Forcing the worry away I just nodded. “You seemed cool with her at lunch.” Even though she’d made our ears bleed talking about the upcoming impromptu audition and complaining that it was unfair for the teachers to have them give unpolished, unpracticed performances. It was only the first round of auditions, however, and she’d get a chance to practice for the second round if she made it.

Neither Vicki nor I had gotten a word in edgewise, but Vicki hadn’t seemed that concerned. Not that she was really a drama-llama anyway.

“Life is too short to get annoyed at Steph when she gets like that.” She shrugged. “Still, I could have used the break from her in class. Plus, I hate that you’re sitting on your own.”

“You know that if I couldn’t sit with you or Steph, I’d prefer to be on my own anyway.”

She nodded but stared in an assessing way.

“What?”

“I just... It would be great if you’d come out of your shell this year. People have no idea how cool you are.”

I chuckled. “Because I’m not. I can barely string two words together around new people and none around boys. Once upon a time you used to be the same.”

My friend gave me a sympathetic look. “I grew up, Comet,” she replied gently.

I flinched. “And I haven’t?”

“Just...just try harder. I think you still think you’re that little kid who couldn’t speak to her parents, much less anyone else. You’re not her anymore. Try. Please. For me?”

I nodded, the ham and cheese sandwich Mrs. Brown had made me suddenly tasting like dust in my mouth. The thought of trying to be more social made me uneasy. I didn’t want to be put in situations that made me sweat under my arms and flush strawberry red like a loser.

I wanted to feel safe and comfortable.

And I didn’t see what was so terrible about that.

THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG

4 (#ud4d4c379-b146-5280-a995-cf6b34f3b9f1)

How do you conquer each moment,

When you have no one on your side?

Make peace with the idea that life,

Is just one continuous high tide?

—CC

Walking toward form class for daily registration that morning, I saw Steph coming toward me and braced myself. I worried for a second that she knew Vicki and I had been avoiding her last night, but the nearer she got to me the bigger her smile grew. When we met outside the classroom door she threw her arms around me and hugged me.

Used to Steph’s impromptu displays of affection I laughed and hugged her back.

“That was for yesterday.” She pulled out of the hug but huddled against me as we walked into our form room together. “I know I just went on and on about myself. I got so worked up about the audition. Anyway, everything okay with you?”

And this was why it was difficult to stay mad at Steph. I smiled at her as we sat down at a table together. “Everything is fine with me. How did the audition go?”

“Wait, wait.” Vicki suddenly appeared, sliding into a seat at the table. “I want to hear.”

“I already apologized to Vicki on Snapchat last night,” Steph said, which explained Vicki’s renewed enthusiasm for supporting her.

“The audition?” Vicki said.

Steph beamed. “It went great. All those hours spent singing ‘All That Jazz’ in the shower paid off. They asked me back for another audition next week.”

I squeezed her arm. “Steph, that’s great. Well done.”

“Thanks. Ahh! I so want to play Roxie.”

“You’d be the perfect Roxie,” Vicki insisted.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

In unison, we turned toward the new voice, and residual anger from long ago burned in my throat. Heather. It was hard for me not to resent her, and I wasn’t sure I cared if that made me unforgiving.

Vicki leaned back in her seat, one eyebrow raised. As cool and laid-back as my friend was, she could also emanate serious pissed-off vibes. Like now. “And what does that mean?”