This choice: POV: Alice, She Meets an Old Aquantance • Go Back... Buttercombe Academy prided itself on it’s intellectual rigor, the quality of it’s teaching, the beauty of it’s campus, and even (at the insistence of Coach Knight) the pedigree of its athletics program. But Buttercombe, like all great modern academies, worked on one simple principle: it was a place for the very clever & capable, and the very wealthy & powerful, to meet, for each other’s mutual benefit.
Many young women of modest means applied to Buttercombe Academy with dreams of fulfilling their and their families ambitions of upward mobility, and they did. But while the Academy painted a picture of furthering education or job acceptance based on the academic qualifications of a Buttercombe diploma, the reality is far more of them found their ladder to climb was an early acquaintance with a soon to be millionaire or billionaire, usually one who needed someone smarter then them around.
Alice, despite never really living up to the cost of a Buttercombe Education, thought she had escaped this fate. That is, until she moved to Abercrombie, and discovered that she had an acquaintance, however passing, to the town lunatic.
And that the town lunatic was the richest person in town.
Which is exactly why the town had the free enjoyment of a barbecue contest, a film festival and a highland festival, all free to the public on the same day. To an untrained eye, to those who hadn’t stuck even one toe into this madness, this looks like an unfortunate case of event scheduling colliding with unusually coincidental generosity. But Alice could tell you, without looking into it any further, that these events happened because one person likes all those things, and wanted them on the same day…
–
Welcome to the Abercrombie Highland Festival where the Highlands of Scotland meet the high lands of Colorado. Those more athletically inclined Abercrombians can compete in the Highland Games, while members of our Deaf community can enjoy the bagpipes…
–
Alice watched as Jean’s muscles glistened and clenched, as she warmed up with practice tosses of the caber. She was one of the few people in town who felt comfortable approaching and talking to Jean, not only because she knew her from way back, but also because she knew Jean’s towering, imposing bodyguard Cassie Hart from her school days as well: another girl who’s career in post-graduate success owed more to hanging out in the gym and pumping iron with the right people then the quality of the teaching.
“So…” Alice started, but realized she had a mouth full of pulled pork, having to chew that over before she continued. “I get the Highland Games. That’s obvious…”
Alice had deduced the moment she heard Abercrombie would be having a Highland Festival that this was an elaborate ploy by Jean to get people to play sports only she cared about and do…Scottish things…
“And the film festival makes sense...but what’s the barbecue contest for if you’re not going to have any?”
“That’s for the Missus.” Jean said with a grunt before launching the log into the air. Both of them paused the conversation while Jean waited on her tippy-toes to see how long it would stay upright. clunk
“Huh…” Alice chewed that, and another bite of barbecued turkey over before realizing. “...wait, you’re gay?”
“Thank you for figuring out what every bully in school had sorted by Freshman year.” Jean said, wiping some sweat from her forehead. “...what's this about, Alice?”
“I dunno. Catching up? Seeing how you’re doing? Since we are mutual acquaintances and all?”
“Seeing how I’m doing, huh?” Jean scoffed. She fixed Alice with those wild, green eyes. “Are you worried I’m becoming some kind of weirdo spending all day drinking alone in my big stupid mansion up on the hill? Huh?”
Alice leaned back, cringing to get away from Jean even if that only stuck her belly closer. “I mean, there are a lot of rumors, and residents are concerned that…” Ever since people found out she actually KNEW Jean Vandergriff, Alice had been roped in as the town’s prognosticator of their ever mercurial patron. Figure out what her next erratic move might be. Maybe try to figure out why a billionaire picked here of all places to put down roots.
“God! That’s so high school of them!” Jean yelled.
“Of…the town?” Alice asked.
Jean could only yell, and throw her log further in response. “Graaaaaaah!” THUNK
“...so Cassie, are you going to be competing too or—”
“Conflict of interest.” She grunted with a shrug.
“Right...right…” You’d think for having gone to school with so many of them Alice would be used to how differently the ultrawealthy lived by now…
“Hey Alice!”
Her anxiety and confusion broke as her Golden Retriever of a husband shuffled after her, belly pushed from one side to the other by his thighs.
“They got a place that will make you omelettes out of an ostrich egg!” He recounted with boyish zeal as he got behind Alice and started pushing her towards the enormous egg-dishes by the shoulders.
“Ooooooooh--wait, would that even taste good?” Alice mused, being pushed along
“Who cares? They’re this big!” He shifted smoothly from using his hands to indicate to Alice to waving at Jean. “Thanks for the free food, Jean!”
“GRaaaah!” THUNK!   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024 Pink-Lightning (UN: p-lightning at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Bobo the Hobo has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author