-Poster by Jaejee-

From Chaeri's POV~       

     “Holy .” I stare unbelievably at the package in my hands, my free hand clutching my cell phone to my ear. My eyes glaze again over the red and green logo, and then to the short paragraph of text beneath it. I flip through the rest of the papers, my heart fluttering in sync with each of the pages passing by.

“You still alive?” Alex asked. When I don’t respond, she makes an impatient noise at the other end. “Helloooooo? Cherri?” I shake my head, trying to assemble my tangled thoughts into understandable words.

“I…I made it in.” I say breathlessly, when I regain my ability to speak. “Alex, I made it in to Stanford.”

“Oh, my God!” There was the sound of movement on the other end, most likely Alex jumping off the couch. “Congratulations, girl! I’m so happy for you right now.”

“Thanks, I mean, I still can’t believe it,” I say while adjusting my hold on the phone. Stanford. The word brings a smile to my lips.

“Well, I always knew you were gonna make it big.” She says with a laugh.

I close the door of the mail box, and hold the orange envelope in front of me like a prize trophy.

“And you know what the best thing about this is?” I say mischievously. “Alice is going to flip.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alice is my mother. Not biological, of course, that would be terrible. My real parents died in a car accident 5 years ago, when a drunk driver passed that yellow line. None of my relatives wanted me, or would take me in; they gave excuses of too many children, not enough money, no experience; but it was all the same. In the end, I was just a sad, skinny 12 year old that was an unwanted remainder of their brother or sister that no longer lived.

After the accident, I was sent to one of the most depressing orphanages of life, where I was forced to stay for a year—then when I was 13 years old, I was adopted by a woman named Alice Stone.

My best friend Alex and I like to joke that her last name describes her perfectly; and it’s true. She’s nothing short of heartless.

When I walk into our small townhouse in Bedford, Massachusetts, I step quietly into the hallway so as to not disturb the dark lump on the couch in the living room. I know that Alice is lying there, drunk, because she always is. The stench of alcohol reaches me from the room. I frown in disgust.

“Cherri… Is that you?”  I now have two options. I could leave her on the couch, and let her wallow in her state of intoxication. Or, I could drag her to the bathroom and make her sober up. I always end up doing the latter of the two, not because I want to, but because of two very important factors.

One: If she stays on the couch, she will (most likely) throw up onto the fabric which I will later be made to clean.

Two: Alice’s hangovers are horrifying to witness. They’re often violent, and embarrassing, and I’d rather not stay to watch the full extent of the effects of her previous nights’ drinking.

With a sigh, I move into the living room, and kneel down by the couch. 

I don’t respond, or say anything, because in this state she wouldn’t understand a single word anyway. As I swing her arm over my shoulder, I repeat to myself, you’re almost there, you’re almost there. These words were one of the only things that got me through these last few years. In the fall, I would be going to Stanford, getting my degree in journalism, and I’d be out of this hellhole; free to start fresh without a dependant alcoholic weighing me down.

When I get her cleaned up and coherent enough to stay awake, I break the news to her.

“I got accepted into Stanford.” I say mechanically. I want to get this over with as soon as possible, not wanting her to spoil my happy mood.

“Stanford?” She mumbles incoherently. “Whazzaat?”

Talking to Alice is about as interesting and productive as talking to a five year old. Short attention spans and limited understanding capacities.

“It’s a university. A really great one.” I say with exaggerated patience. “I’m leaving in the fall.” I wait for her scream at me, throw a drunken tantrum, but it doesn’t come.

She takes an agonizing amount of time before she responds.

“You can’t.” She says smugly. “You’re not eighteen.”

“Today’s my birthday, although I didn’t expect you to remember.” I say spitefully. Eighteen. In my book, that number is synonymous with freedom.

She frowns, and suddenly slams her hand on the table. Here it comes, I think with a sigh. “You little . You think you can just leave my house when you want?” Her words are slurred.

Five years of bottled up anger and frustration are interwoven into my next words.

“No, listen to me, you . I’m eighteen years old, I can do whatever the I want. And since I’m the one that pays for the rent, it’s my ing house, so now you can get the hell out. I’ve dealt with you for five goddamn years, and I’m now done.”

Seeing Alice’s stricken expression and speechless silence, I smile in satisfaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m vaguely aware of the phone ringing in the living room. It’s 5’o clock in the morning, and I’m  half sleeping, half walking to the dark room where I in the darkness for the handset.

I momentarily wonder where Alice is, because she had stormed out right after our confrontation, and hasn’t returned since. But the thought passes quickly. I had better things to worry about than her well-being.

“Hello?” I mumble, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Who would call this early? I think confusedly.

“Hello? Is this Chaeri?” the voice on the other hand asks.

I stiffen. Chaeri. No one’s called me that in five years… ever since the accident. I immediately think of my relatives; something bad must’ve happened.

“Speaking,” I say cautiously. “Who is this?”

“It’s your aunt Minhyo, from Korea.” The voice on the other end says warily. “Chaeri… your grandmother just passed away.” There is a silence. I think she expects me to say something, give my condolences, cry, or something, but there’s just an awkward pause—after all, I’d lost contact with my family ever since my parents passed away.

I didn’t even know I had an aunt named Minhyo; I didn’t remember any of them. But my grandmother...there was a very distant, vague memory of her deep in the recesses of my brain. Something about a park, and someone pushing me on a swing. I think I might’ve even liked her.

“What happened?” I ask tentatively.

“She died in her sleep,” Minhyo says sadly. “Of old age.”

There is a shuffling at the other end. “She… wanted you to be there. At her funeral, I mean.”

I look out the window in the living room, sighing as I contemplate her words.

“I would really like to come….but I just, I don’t have the money right now.” I admit sheepishly. It was true; I saved up all my money towards my university funds, and I would already have to be taking more part time jobs to pay for Stanford.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ll pay for the ticket for you to come here, of course. You wouldn’t have to pay for a thing.” She says quickly.

I am genuinely astounded by her offer. A free flight to Korea? It would definitely make for a nice vacation before school started in the fall.

“It’s the least we could do.” Minhyo says quietly. Huh. At least they admit they were crappy relatives.

“Wow, really?” I’m genuinely surprised at her generous offer. “I mean…thanks.” I finish lamely. “Uh…when do I leave?”

I could hear a sigh of relief from the other side. “We booked you for the 6’ o clock flight this Friday. I’ll send the tickets to you later today.”

After we say our awkward goodbyes, I hang up the phone and stare into the darkness of the room. Through the window, I can see dawn starting to seep into day, the light casting soft shadows across the room.

I’ve never been to Korea. I was born right here in Bedford, Massachusetts. My parents were language Professors at the university here before they passed away. Because of that, I was fluent in English, Chinese, and French. We used to speak Korean at home all the time; so I guess it wouldn’t be too hard for me to adjust to the language.

Just until school starts, I think to myself. It would be a nice break from all this craziness, a few weeks to relax before I went to Stanford in September.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard to convince myself to go. I wanted to go. In any case, I had a free ticket. Why not?

This is going to be interesting, I think with a smile on my face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey Guys, here's chapter one. YAAAAYYYY!!! *Throws confetti*

Thanks for the wait, everyoneXD I wanted to keep writing unitl I was happy with it, so yeah. AND GUESS WHAT????

Because I have love you all so much, and I'm in such a good mood, I've decided.... *drumroll* To post chapter 2 today tooo! :D

(Actually this was all supposed to be one big chapter, but it was too long so I had to split it into 2 parts)

So enjoy, subscribe, and comment!

Please? :3