Chapter Five. Clara
CHAPTER FIVE
CLARA
NOW
TWO DAYS UNTIL LEGACY BANQUET
A TAYLOR SWIFT LYRIC.
It’s been over a week, and I haven’t stopped thinking about the way Reid dropped into the group chat, hours later, with a Taylor Swift lyric. It was his way of telling us that (1) he’s the guest of honor for Legacy Weekend, (2) he’s officially coming back, and (3) he listens to Taylor Swift now.
I guess college really does change people.
Like with Delaney, who hasn’t responded to any of my direct texts in a month.
She hasn’t even responded to me about hanging out this weekend, when on the group chat she’s using a dizzying amount of exclamation points about coming home and seeing everyone.
I don’t know if it’s all in my head, but after the way she started drifting after the assembly last year, I can’t help but take it personally.
I pull my phone out like I have every three minutes for the past week to see if the buzzing is from Reid again. It’s not. It’s Kenji reminding us of his annual Legacy party tonight along with a follow-up text, ALUMNI ONLY (except Mitchell obvs). The vultures are circling already.
He then sends a link to an account that I don’t recognize. When I open it up, I notice the five Legacies are tagged in it—Reid, Delaney, Amaya, Josh, and Nicole—as well as several other students from our graduating class.
And me.
@LEGACY_LORE: Legacies are returning to Woodhurst this weekend for their final victory lap before passing the crown to the next crop of seniors.
But were you at that disastrous assembly last year?
There’s a lot more to this class of illustrious Legacies than meets the eye.
It’s time you learned the truth about the so-called Woodhurst elite. The real story … More soon
As I click through the profile, an unease snakes through me. Why is it anonymous? And what do they mean by the “real story”?
Or am I just on edge because that “disastrous assembly” ruined my life?
“Clara, we’re about to open!” my manager calls out to where I’m perched on a bench overlooking the water behind the Lodge.
It’s the restaurant and equipment rental site that sits at the base of the mountain.
In winter, it’s a busy, cozy spot with roaring fires in the stone hearths and hot chocolate with so much whipped cream you could ski on it.
But at this time of year, the weather hovering between late summer and fall, it’s quiet and serene with the best view of the sunset over Crescent Lake.
Before I tuck my phone away for good, I quickly switch over to my favorite poetry account and refresh the page, hoping they’ve updated with a new post. They haven’t.
Mitchell’s text comes through the group chat just as I’m tying my apron. Is that account real? ALSO I feel like we should all wear matching shirts tonight. Thoughts?
I laugh away my disquiet over the account, a part of me wishing I could go tonight.
But even though I want to see Kenji and finally talk to Delaney, I shouldn’t.
That post, innocuous as it might be, is a reminder of all the drama I’ve fought to forget as the disgraced, disqualified Legacy.
All the mistakes I have no hope of mending.
It would be different if Reid were going to be there. If I had the chance to see him and know, once and for all, whether I handled things between us the right way or mishandled them as wildly as I’ve feared every day since.
But Reid said he won’t be here until tomorrow. Which means he doesn’t want to be here any longer than he has to. I can’t blame him for that.
Staying away from everyone is the best option.
Not looking up from my notepad, I ask the new table, “What can I get you?”
“Ah, just the person I was looking for.”
The familiar voice causes me to freeze. It’s the person I loathe most: Principal West. A stout white man with a salt-and-pepper beard and giant teeth. I’ve seen him around town plenty of times since graduation, but I’ve done my best to dodge him.
His teeth are blinding as he grins. “Nice to see you, Clara!”
Doubtful.
I give him a small, half-hearted wave and take his order as quickly as possible, barely looking at him.
But before I can escape, he says, “Actually, do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
That’s … unexpected, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Okay?” I keep my tone civil, but just barely.
He clears his throat. “As I understand it, you are still in possession of Woodhurst equipment.”
My face instantly flames. Since when does the principal notice stuff like that? But before I can respond he holds a hand up.
“It’s all right. In fact, it’s ideal.”
I frown.
“Turns out I’m in need of a videographer this weekend for a ‘hype’ video. The board has decided to rebrand and refresh all of our content for Legacy’s twentieth anniversary, including replacing the video we play at the annual banquet.”
I get why.
They’ve played the same stale video since I was a kid.
A bland highlight reel that’s basically a Woodhurst High brochure in video form, complete with early 2000s fashion and soundtrack.
Watching it at the banquet every year is as much of a traditional Legacy event as Kenji’s ragers or the Shakespeare show or doing the Fun Run.
He continues. “Unfortunately, what the videographer sent was not what the board had in mind, and I’m in a bit of a bind. I thought of you immediately.”
My frown deepens, but he keeps going.
“We have several new donors and potential benefactors coming into town this weekend, and this video needs to feature everything our program does best. We were hoping for interviews and footage from this batch of Legacies especially. I recall you having quite a bit of that based on that documentary sample you submitted last year. And even better, you could get updated footage this weekend from current Legacies and alumni alike to really make it shine. I’m sure you’re the person to do it. ”
A disbelieving snort escapes me, and I cross my arms. “Me? The person with ‘questionable moral character’?”
My voice wavers, but my eye contact doesn’t. I’m proud of myself for that.
West clears his throat and looks around before lowering his voice. “I believe it would serve all of us to put that particular unpleasantness behind us.”
All of us or his precious program? My blood is boiling that he would even ask this of me.
“That ‘unpleasantness’ is the reason I’m here serving you coffee instead of at film school like I should be. I’m not interested.”
“I would suggest you reconsider if you want to keep the equipment.”
“You can have it,” I spit out.
Seething, I hoof it out to the back of the restaurant. I grip my hands tight across the wooden railing and take in a deep breath. But it doesn’t help.
It probably wouldn’t matter to someone else. Someone who hadn’t devoted the past four years to becoming a Legacy. Who wasn’t stalled waiting for the rest of their life to start.
But it matters to me.
All last year especially, I made decisions based solely on whether it would improve my chances of being chosen. And it worked. I was named a Legacy. For a brief moment, I saw a glimpse of who I could be. Someone who achieved what her own mom had deserved, who followed in her father’s footsteps.
Who was good enough for someone like Reid.
In the next breath it was all stripped away by whoever sabotaged me—a person who hated me enough to humiliate me in front of the entire town. Now I’m scrambling to pick up the pieces of my life that shattered the day the committee decided I’m not important enough to protect.
No matter what Mitchell said about me taking this opportunity with everyone back home to figure out what happened at the assembly last year, I can’t imagine immersing myself in Legacy events, or following people like Josh and Nicole around with a camera like some sort of fawning fangirl.
The clouds shift over the water, casting a lavender glow across the surface.
It’s too breathtaking to ignore, and I pull my phone out to capture the gentle hush that it creates, wishing I had the DSLR to really do the shot justice.
A pang of regret hits me knowing I’ll have to give it and the laptop back now that I’ve turned down West’s offer.
But even with this inferior camera, for a moment I’m suspended. Transported somewhere else entirely, my breathing slows, my pulse quiets. The right light is magic like that. It can turn the ordinary into something wondrous.
Like with the poetry I’ve been reading all year, I wish I could send this photo to Reid. To let him know I’m thinking of him. That I’m always thinking of him. If I wasn’t so sure he hated me, I would. I tap my thumb against the side of my phone.
I can at least send it to the group.
Before I talk myself out of it, I attach the photo to the group chat. I don’t know if it’s an olive branch, a question, or an answer, but I hit SEND and hope he knows it’s for him.
I’m about to carry on with work and put West’s order in with a different server when my phone buzzes. My pulse explodes in a furious rhythm as I sneak a quick look at the screen.
Reid hearted the photo I sent.
I stare so long at the pink icon, the screen goes dark. It’s our first direct interaction in six long months. It’s small and fragile, but that heart is enough to feel the trail of his fingers across my skin; hear his voice in my mind again.
Maybe he doesn’t hate me. Maybe if I had a reason to be around this weekend, he’d even talk to me.
My resolve starts to crack.
If I make the video for West, I’ll be doing something that will help the school and this program. Something I vowed to never go near again. Not after the way the school treated me. The way the Wests treated me.
But it’s also a way back in with Reid. I can edit a “hype” video in my sleep at the end of the weekend, but in the meantime, I can see how he’s doing. Apologize.
Try to repair what I broke.
In truth, my decision has nothing to do with Legacy and everything to do with Reid.
I guess I’m going to a party.