Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of a Thing of Happiness [Completed]

Act I, Scene I

I rolled out of bed to the harsh sound of reveille. I looked over at my clock and read 6:30 in glowing, red numbers.

"Aw, crap." I groaned and pushed off the covers. I had slept in... again. Mom slowly opened my door and a sliver of light cut through the dark of the room. The Marine Corps logos on both my sheets and my walls were suddenly illuminated.

"If you really want to follow in your father's footsteps, Iliana," she lectured, glaring at me from her position perched in my doorway, "you need to start waking up on time. That's the third time you've missed Raiders this week. Colonel Johnston won't be happy." Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun, which accentuated the wrinkles forming on her young, pale face. Dad's current deployment - albeit almost
over - was taking a toll on Mom.

"Sorry, Mama," I apologized as I grabbed the closest pair of washed jeans and yanked them on. Mom sighed and rested her forehead on her hand.

"Put on a shirt, Iliana."

I glanced down quickly and saw that I still had my pale gray sports bra on. "Oh, yeah." I snatched up the nearest shirt, which happened to be my JROTC shirt. Mom sighed again and shut the door behind her.

An hour and five cups of coffee later I was at school, sitting in my eleventh-grade English classroom, wide awake and alongside my best friend, Mary Dames. Her curly black hair, which usually laid flat, now stuck out in all directions and she was wearing the same Venom shirt she'd worn the whole week. She was furiously scrubbing the lenses of her round, wire-rimmed glasses.

"It's an omen, you know," she explained as I settled into my seat and pulled out my pencil.

"Oh?" I asked, always prepared for what I knew would be a loveable, yet strange, answer.

"My hair," she elaborated, setting down the cloth and placing her glasses back on her face. "It's only messy when something bad is going to happen. Gird your loins," she added as the late bell rang. "Looks like more college prep crap."

"All right, class. Today we will be filling out COLLEGE APPLICATIONS. Oh, what fun!" A woman thinner than a string bean strolled into the room, her blonde hair tumbling out of a messy bun perched on the top of her head. It was common knowledge that at least half of the boys in our school had a crush on her, and her outfit - a white blouse stretched tight across her chest, coupled with a thin black jacket and a short, black skirt - did nothing to quench the rumors. I glanced over and saw Brandon Nelson, the school jock and professional asshole, positively drooling. He caught me looking at him and glared at me. In response, I flipped him off.

The entire class groaned at her announcement. Except for the boys. They groaned from something else.

The young woman, our teacher Mrs. Carle, passed out sheets of paper. "These are for PRACTICE. They are not your ACTUAL application. Please fill it out TRUTHFULLY!"

I pulled out my pencil and quickly answered the questions, then studied my answers.

Full Name: Iliana Lola Fleming.
Hair Color: Blonde (Why does this matter?)
Eye Color: Green (See above.)
Address: Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, Oceanside, California 92055. (I'm not telling you my exact address - that's creepy.)
GPA: 3.9
D.O.B: March 11, 2001
Extracurricular Activities: JROTC, Raiders, Drill, volleyball, softball, basketball, soccer, lacrosse, swimming, rugby, football. (There's more, but I'm running out of room and patience.)
Top 2 College Choices: United States Military Academy, Stanford University
Strongest Subject(s): History, English, Fitness
Weakest Subject(s): Math, Science
Preferred Major: History Education
Preferred Minor: Journalism