Destiny. Part One. Connection.
Interlude: Screwed
So Kieran asked me if I wanted to go out with him. I obviously said yes. But you know what ‘going out’ in high school means. There’s not really a lot of actual going out or going on dates. He’s my boyfriend.
Daphne Loves Derby – Hidden Track (Dirt Doesn’t Travel)
I just posted Chapter Four of Part One. Lana sees Tainted Fate play for the same time. I’ve always had a vision of that scene: what the venue looks like, the crowd, the way the band sounds. This song came out a few years after the very first version of that chapter was written but it’s always felt to me like the right representation of what I imagined.
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Destiny. Part One. Connection.
Chapter Four: Tainted Fate
The very next day was the night Kieran’s band was set to play a show. I’d checked my appearance in the mirror so many times that I wouldn’t be surprised if my own reflection was tired of me. I’d looked through absolutely everything in my closet to find something that didn’t scream Beverly Hills brat. Clothes were strewn all over the floor of my walk-in closet and would serve as a reminder of my insecurities when I arrived back home.
Destiny. Part One. Connection.
Chapter Three: Heightened Sensation
“Hello loves!” Sahara greeted everyone as the two of us arrived at lunch at the end of the week. We took whatever available seats there were and what do you know, mine was right next to Kieran.
Park Laine Academy didn’t have a cafeteria. The food was gourmet, you didn’t even have to pay for it, and it actually tasted really good. It was included in the annual overpriced tuition. Of course, you could go and have lunch off campus, but with only half an hour for lunch and only one class afterward (as graduating seniors of the Class of 2004), my friends and I hardly ever did that. The student body ate outside on the balcony set on three different levels, overlooking the ocean in Santa Monica. It was another thing to like about school: it was outside of Beverly Hills.
Destiny. Part One. Connection.
Chapter Two: Home Sweet Home
When I got home, there was someone to take my car away and park it in the garage that was fit for my family’s extensive amount of expensive cars. I wanted to park it myself. I was fully capable. However, the guy, Carl, he insisted. It was like we had our very own valet parking at our mansion. I said hello to a few of the maids who were cleaning, quickly running through the foyer and up the stairs, hoping that I was lucky enough to avoid my mother. I was halfway up the stairs when a voice interrupted. “Lana?”