Presley

I got to the college fair at Santa Cruz High a bit after 1P.M. I'd spent the morning at my high school, across town, and it took fifteen minutes to get over there. After eating an apple in the car, I parked and got out. My mom had offered to meet me there, to walk around the fair with me - but, seriously? How embarrassing would that have been? So I was on my own, though I was sure there were other seniors from Harbour High heading over there this afternoon, too. They just weren't with me.

   It had been two years - almost - since I'd been cancer free. Of course I went to check-ups, which were terrifying, generally. But everything always looked good. But I was not the same kid that I was before all of that. My friends had moved on - most were off at college now. The kids I went to school with now just thought I was weird. So, I had my "cancer friends", which were people I'd met in a support group I went to.  But they were younger, and older, and not anyone that I considered to be close with.  And I had my guitar, which was pretty much my best friend. It was a  weird time in my life, that was for sure.

   If I had it my way, I'd just play music for the rest of my life. I loved writing and singing and playing my guitar. I would have rather been poor and playing music than have some fancy job after college that I didn't love. But my parents were insistent that college was a good way to open doors, so to speak. They were supportive of my music, thankfully. They sat in empty coffee shops to listen to me play open mic nights. They asked about new songs, and they never complained when I played early mornings or late nights. They were the best fans.

   Now, I was walking around this college fair, hoping to find a California college that I could study music at. I knew of a few, but my mom wasn't a huge fan of me moving to L.A. She was still afraid I'd get sick again, which I could understand. But how was I supposed to "live my life" while always being worried I could relapse at any time? It was an awful feeling.

   I saw the Stanford table first, the smiling woman behind it waved as I approached. They had a good music program, but I wasn't going to go to an Ivy league college, I knew that. I was making up my lost time in high school but I didn't have a high GPA by any means. I basically did the bare minimum of what was required of me, and the rest of it was pity grades. I was okay with that. After taking flyers from a handful of tables, I saw the California College of Music booth. The two men standing behind it looked cheerful and were loudly talking to some other kids as I walked closer.

   "I'd suggest filming your audition video by Christmas," one was saying. "We start accepting them mid January."

   I stepped up to table and picked up a flyer to show my parents, later,

   "Hi, how are you?" the other man asked me right away. "I'm Dan, I'm with admissions here at CCM."

   "Hey," I said, lifting my hand to shake his. "Presley."

   "Are you interested in music as your post secondary education?"

   Yes. Of course I was interested. It was all I wanted.

   "Yeah. You're in L.A.?" I asked, just to be sure.

   "We are. Pasadena, actually. We have a lot of students from up here, though. Talented kids, up in the north," he said, then laughed.

   We were Northern California, but we weren't The North.

   "I'm a musician. I write, and play," I said, without thinking.

   "That's great. If you're serious about it, you can send me an email here," he pointed to a line on the flyer. "I can help you through the application process."

   "Thanks," I said.

   I was serious about it, but five hours away from Santa Cruz was scary. Not just for my mom, either. I wasn't a real adult yet, even though I was eighteen. My parents had been taking care of me for a long time. The almost two years of being sick didn't help.

   I walked around the rest of the college fair, but nothing seemed to grab my attention. Of course I was only interested in the college of music. Why else would I go to college? I'd have to have a conversation with my parents about this. Maybe we could compromise.

   Spinning around - too fast - to go back towards the parking lot, someone smashed right into my chest. She was short and pretty, her hair in a pony tail that sat on her shoulder. As soon as she stepped back, she was apologizing. My chest was still vibrating from the impact.

   "Oh my god, I'm sorry," she spat out, stepping back again.

   I didn't move. "It's okay, I wasn't really looking-"

   There were hundreds of people around us. The air was warm and wet and we were just standing there staring at each other. Her eyes were bright blue and it felt like they were looking into my soul. I'd never seen a girl so beautifully simple before.

   I watched as she opened her mouth to say something else, but then closed it again, as if she couldn't find any words. Behind her, a cute Asian girl was glaring.

   "Seriously, Lia. Why would you storm away like that?"

  The girl, this beautifully simple girl with blue eyes that could make my heart rate triple, broke our eye contact to look at the other girl. I forgot where I was going or why I was leaving, in an instant. I had to stay and I had to talk to her again. But she was practically slipping away, into the crowd.

   "I don't need to be here, so I'm leaving," she said, to her friend. She sounded angry, but when she was looking at me she seemed perfectly calm.

   "Lia, cut the shit. I drove you here so you're not leaving without me." The Asian girl was sassy, grinning at her.

   Were they really fighting, or just messing around? I didn't have a good sense of how teens acted around each other. I'd missed out on all of that.

   "I have legs, I can walk," she answered, but already sounded less angry.

   "Fiiine. Be grumpy, I'll call you later. I'm going to find Jakob," her friend yelled, turning away from her.

   "Of course you are!" she called out, but then spun back around, huffing air out of her lungs.

   As if I didn't exist and we hadn't shared a moment of perfect peace just a few minutes ago, the girl stomped passed me. She looked angry again, I saw her scowl before she was gone, into the crowd. When I looked up, I saw that she was leaving. Like, pushing her way through the crowd and was almost into the open area near the parking lot. I had to move, quick, if I didn't want to lose my chance. I was terrified, but I was used to that feeling. This felt like something that I had to do, no matter what.

   I couldn't see her when I finally got away from the crowded fair and crossed the grass to the parking lot. My heart dropped, realizing I'd actually lost her. I should have moved faster. I should have grabbed for her hand, even if she thought it was crazy. When I made it to my car, I sighed heavily and leaned against the driver's side door. That was it. The college fair was a bust because I couldn't focus on anything beside the music school, and then I "met" this girl that I'd never get to see again. My luck was just bad, and I had to come to terms with it.

   I was one minute away from getting into my car and driving away when I heard the quiet sobbing. I hadn't bothered to look down the parking lot at all, as I assumed she'd passed through and left already on foot. I wasn't about to chase after her. But there she was, sitting on the curb near a little black Mazda 3. Her head was down, her arm across her face. But I knew it was her.