Meet Me After Class

Chapter 55: New York, New York

Ah! New York City!

I have to admit, the blaring taxi horns and endless crowds should have overwhelmed me. But from the moment I stepped outside JFK, the nonstop energy of the city seeped into my veins.

This was New York in all its frantic, vibrant glory!

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Mr. Scott beamed at me as he hauled my suitcase towards a cab.

I gazed open-mouthed at the famous skyline silhouetted by rosy dusk. The Empire State Building pierced the heavens as advertisement screens blazed neon. Back in Pinecrest, the tallest structures were the water tower and Summit Heights Plaza—an impressive 15-story commercial building that stood as a prominent landmark.

"It's...everything!" I breathed. Mr. Scott grinned knowingly and opened the cab door for me.

We headed downtown towards the tiny subleased apartment where I'd be living. Mr. Scott's sister, an artist, was traveling Europe for a few months. Her 500-square-foot, one-bedroom unit in the East Village cost my family's mortgage payment back home.

"This is considered a steal," Mr. Scott assured me as I balked at the rent. I gazed around at the cramped space. My bedroom back home was nearly this size!

But being nestled amid the funky art galleries, off-beat cafes, and vibrant culture of the neighborhood was priceless. I gazed out the apartment's one tiny window at the ever-moving magic of Manhattan below.

Maybe with a New York state of mind, 500 feet would feel more than enough. This shoebox studio was all temporarily mine—my very first taste of freedom in the big city!

For the next two days, Mr. Scott let me settle in. Then we were off to see the play.

My hands trembled as I smoothed my new dress for the tenth time. Tonight was my first ever NYC play, and my nerves were in overdrive.

I'd nearly forgotten about the ticket he gave me in all the drama before leaving Pinecrest. But here we were, about to head to some off-Broadway theater, thanks to Mr. Scott's industry hooks.

"You look great, Wendy," he said, giving me an amused smile as he watched me fidget. "I promise you won't get kicked out for being underdressed."

"I know, I know." I forced my hands to still. "I just want to look the part, you know? Like I blend in with everyone."

Mr. Scott laughed. "There's no need to try so hard. That's the best part about New York—you can just be yourself!"

I nodded, but my stomach was still doing acrobatics as we entered the intimate theater. As an usher led us to our seats, I gawked at the red fabrics draping the stage. I could practically taste the excitement and creativity pulsating through the space.

I was finally getting my first glimpse into the world where I belonged.

I fished the playbill out of my clutch, hands still shaky. "So have you heard anything about this show? Scarred Wings, it's called."

"Not much," Mr. Scott admitted with a shrug. "But that's the fun—never knowing if you'll stumble on the next huge hit!"

The lights flickered. I squeezed the playbill, my heart racing in anticipation. This was really happening! In just moments, the curtain would rise on my first ever New York City play...

As Act One began, I found myself leaning forward in my seat, utterly enraptured by the story unfolding onstage. Esther, the protagonist, was a middle child struggling to support her six siblings after their parents died. Still, she clung fiercely to her dream of becoming a pilot one day.