Meet Me After Class

Chapter 58: 2 Years Later

Time really does fly when you're having fun and pursuing your passions. As I gathered up my notebook and favorite pen, exiting the lecture hall with a smile, I could hardly believe the first day of summer break had already arrived. My first two years as a creative writing major at the University of Chicago seemed to have flown by in a blink.

It felt like just yesterday that I was the bright-eyed, mildly terrified freshman moving into my dorm. Those first few months were a whirlwind of adjustments - navigating a huge campus, balancing demanding courses with a budding social life, and learning to (somewhat) fend for myself miles away from home.

The initial adjustment had its challenges. There were predictable bouts of homesickness that first semester. Nights when I'd call my Penny. Or frantic group chats with my parents and Belle.

But with each passing week, I found my stride. Study groups with like-minded writers became a haven. Hashing out papers at the retro diners near campus fueled my creativity. And that dorm I landed for sophomore year, despite its quirks, made Chicago finally feel like home.

Now, two years in, I could barely remember that frazzled freshman version of myself. My Halloween costume writing session was quickly becoming a dorm floor tradition. I was thriving and hungry for whatever words and worlds awaited me over this summer break.

It was hard to believe this would be my first time going home to Pinecrest since starting college. My freshman year had been a whirlwind of opportunities, starting with that fateful call from Tommy. He had been so impressed by my intern work ethic that he offered me a real job—joining the creative teams for two of their upcoming plays that would run for several months.

The chance was simply too good to pass up, and despite how devastated I felt, having to tell my parents I wouldn't be coming home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and every school break that year—including my birthdays—left me utterly crushed. We had so many tearful phone calls, with them trying to hide their disappointment that their eldest wouldn't be home for the holidays.

"We're just going to miss you so much," my mom sniffed during one particularly emotional chat. "Are you absolutely sure about this, Wednesday?"

But my dad, ever the cheerleader, chimed in with his undying support. "Of course she's sure! This is a huge opportunity. Our girl is going to take New York by storm, just you wait!"

Their blessing meant everything. With a heavy heart, I spent that first year entirely submerged in the New York theater world. But it paid off—the plays were a smash, and my name began opening doors.

As I stepped into the sunshine, my fingers went instinctively to the necklace around my neck. I still wore it every day, often catching myself fidgeting with the pendant when I was lost in thought.

My phone started buzzing, and I smiled when I saw Ben's face pop up on my screen. Yes, I've finally learned to call Mr. Scott by his first name, which felt strange at first, but now it feels normal.

We had stayed in touch even after he moved to London last year to pursue his dreams.

"Wendy, you'll never believe it! They loved Love's Melody! They want me to start working on another one!" Mr. Scott bubbled over with excitement through the phone.

"That's amazing!" I gushed. "I told you that script was incredible. You're well on your way!"

We chatted about the enthusiastic reception of his avant-garde production as I wandered across the green quad, Mr. Scott filling me in on all the highlights of life in London.

"Enough about me," he said finally. "What's new with you? I spoke with Tommy last week and he's told me he's offered you a fixed position at the Urban Oasis!"