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Julia Caesar
The scenic Hawaiian calendar displayed a fuchsia sunset as the month of May. Beneath the picture were the 31 days of the Month, all of which were scribbled on: cheer practice, drama club meeting, class president elections. Not one box was left blank. The calendar hung on a bubble gum pink wall alongside a cork bulletin board piled with pictures, ribbons, and movie ticket stubs. More pictures sat in frames atop the mahogany bedside table, bookshelf, and dresser. The room was large, filled with tiny pieces of memorabilia, and yet, organized. The pink floral bed was made without a single wrinkle, as if a hotel maid had done it herself.
Julia stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling shelves in her walk-in closet. The clothes were arranged by season, then by style, then by color, making the usual grueling outfit-choosing process much easier. After glancing out the window at the golden sunshine, the exact color of her blonde mane, she chose a denim skirt, white V-neck, and her signature pink, Juicy hoodie. Next, she straightened her long locks and applied layer upon layer of black mascara. She dabbed her wrists and neck with a little Clinique Happy and smiled in the mirror, pleased with her looks. The entire procedure vaguely resembled that of Elle Woods in the opening scene of Legally Blonde.
Dressed and ready, Julia grabbed her red and black gym bag, black Northface back pack, and car keys and descended down the long, elegant stairwell. She threw her bags in the trunk of her bright yellow Volkswagen beetle sitting patiently in the driveway like a puppy awaiting the arrival of its owner. Her music blared out of the open windows as she backed out of the driveway.
The ride to school was a short one. Though it took her only a few minutes to get to school, Sophia had been awake for hours in order to ready herself for the day. In her reserved parking spot, Julia flipped down her sun visor and applied one more layer of mascara, just in case. Once again, she smiled at her reflection. Today was a big day.
Julia opened her door to be greeted, as usual, by Blake, a tall muscular boy sporting a letterman jacket. His sandy blonde hair was cut short, just the way Juliia liked it. He helped her out of the car as if she were a celebrity arriving on the Red Carpet. Together, they walked into the large, brick building right as the bell rang. In the busy hallway, the couple parted with a kiss and continued on to their classrooms.
Julia found her seat in the middle of a cluster of her best friends. They were all slightly different versions of the other. They all had long, straightened hair in a spectrum of shades from Bleach Blonde to Deep Brown, clad in various articles of designer clothing. Each wore layer upon layer of shimmery eye shadow and mascara, batting their heavy eyelids every time an attractive guy walked by. Although they all had boyfriends, the girls still enjoyed gawking at the most attractive members of the opposite sex.
The second bell rang and the teacher-a short, beady-eyed woman whose wardrobe had not left the 80s - shushed the class and began her lesson on Shakespeare. Julia paid close attention, taking notes diligently. There would be a test on this next week and Julia had to ace it. If she wanted to get into Stanford, she couldn’t let her perfect grade point average drop. She reached into her backpack and grabbed her planner. Using a perfectly French-manicured hand, Julia marked the day of the test. She skimmed over the rest of the week, which had events listed for every day. Julia liked to stay busy. The busier she was, the more items she could list on her college applications and the closer she would be to Stanford.
Julia’s whole family had gone to Stanford. In fact, that’s where her parents met. As a child, Julia’s parents would take her to visit the gorgeous campus during the summer. Julia dreamed of walking the campus, text books in hand, on her way to class - not to mention sporting a fabulous year-round tan. Julia was almost ready to ditch this small town and begin her life in sunny California, but not until she had mastered one last thing: class elections. The title “Senior Class President” would be the paramount to her already jam-packed application.
Julia closed her eyes, remembering the overwhelming sense of defeat- a feeling uncommon to her- after last year’s election. She lost to Ben Campbell, who had won over the crowd with his bubbly sense of humor, cracking jokes here and there, sending the student body into roars of laughter. He was running for class president, Julia thought. Not class clown. This year, she would win for sure. She had worked too hard to lose this again. She would not stop until she got what she wanted.
With that, Julia slammed her planner shut right as the bell rang and marched out of the classroom. Confidence restored, Julia made her way to the auditorium, ready to conquer.
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