Passing college is a difficult task on its own, but imagine what it's like when your final grade rests in the hands of the worlds' favorite rock-star.
As graduation from her local community college approaches, Reese Taylors yearns for some answers...
{ cool lighting } - lighting used to create a calm feeling, also used for sad scenes
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When I planned my trip to L.A., I hadn't expected to sit behind my laptop for five consecutive hours finishing up assignments.
My hair is still damp from my shower this morning and I grip the strands around my face tightly. "What the actual fuck?"
Cora's airy laughter floats through my computer screen. "I told you not to take that class. I mean, normally I don't listen to Laken about that stuff but I remember he was an absolute dick during that semester."
Cora's boyfriend, Laken, had taken Intro to Literary Skills his first semester as an elective for his English major. When he found out I threw that class in at the last minute to fill up my schedule, he told me that if I didn't get my butt down to advising and switch it, I would regret it.
And I regret it."
"He's your boyfriend, Cora, you should probably listen to him." I flip through the stack of notes beside me. "Okay, this note he left me that hinted me toward what the answer should be is nowhere in the notes."
I'm in the middle of correcting my take-home test that he assigned weeks ago to be completed at the end of break. And since I knew I'd be on vacation, I pulled all nighters and crashed Cora and Laken's date nights in order to finish this before I left.
And I was satisfied with it. Laken was satisfied with it. But Professor Bernard was not.
He emailed my paper back, with a note attached with hints to help change a few of my answers to get a better score since I was one of the few people that had turned it in before the due date. Which, I'm thankful for. With two honors classes, three electives, and the pressure of picking a major and transfer college looming over me, my grades are the only thing keeping me together.
"How's your documentary going?" Cora asks, successfully changing the subject after sending a screenshot of my question to Laken. "And please, don't leave out any details that involve Lennon. Or Graham."
I lean back in Maia's desk chair. "It's okay, I'm behind my schedule," I tell her, peeking at the bullet list of shots and interviews I wanted filmed and edited by now, "but I edited all that I have so far this morning to make myself feel somewhat accomplished."
Surprisingly, Emma James approved our impromptu interview yesterday morning, giving me the green light on every piece of footage we got. I edited out my own answers, leaving them saved in a separate folder before deleting them from the SD card.
"I said not to leave out any details." Cora scolds as she leans into her camera. "Is he as hot as all the posters in your sister's room make him out to be?"
I contemplate her question, taking a quick peek over my shoulder to see if there are any eavesdroppers. Maia's out with Kacey shopping for this weekend's concert and I can faintly hear the opening notes of one of their songs on the piano. They've been rehearsing all morning.
