Ｌｕｃｙ Ａｓｔｏｒ
Ｉ'ｌｌ ｂｅ ａ ＭＯＮＳＴＥＲ, ｗｈｅｎ Ｉ ｇｒｏｗ ＵＰ⋯
ＷＨＥＲＥ the steps of the philadelphia museum of art.
ＷＨＯ anyone.
ＭＯＯＤ anxious.
ＷＥＡＲＩＮＧ click.
✯
- xxxxxxLucy and her friends were perched on the steps of the Union League, the swanky society building in which many a bat mitzvah were thrown. Lucy was familiar with the building, having attended many of these prepubescent parties herself. One girl in poofy ballgowns, the rest in short, ruched monstrosities in respect to the princess of the night. Now, a sunny but breezy afternoon, Lucy and her girlfriends looked like different kinds of princesses. Their green plaid Barnaby Prince kilts fanned out, leaving bare thigh exposed. Lucy had seen more than a few passers-by eying her pale flesh lustfully. Fortunately for the city of Philadelphia, when Sunday came and the bar mitzvah girls and their braces had gone home, the business casual jacket-and-tie dress code was reinstated. Most people in the area, most men eying the beauties on the edge of seventeen on the steps, were moderately good-looking businessmen in smart suits. Lucy had a thing for older men. They were much more...experienced, really, than the boys she socialized with...the building was beautiful, and made Lucy feel very comfortable sitting on the twisted steps. Girls such as Lucy were free to eat their yogurt in peace. It was the closest she would get to the Met steps right now. All around her, activity was buzzing. It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon, leading into most people's last school day. Lucy and her fellow students had finals to take. Lucy turned her eyes upward, but immediately shielded them from the sunlight. This was summer weather, she thought, hardly the temperature to wear her school uniform.
xxxxxx"If only we didn't have finals," mused Lucy, "we could actually go out tonight. The weather's perfect." A light, early summer breeze blew her pale blonde hair across her cheek and into her mouth. She brushed it out with bare nails. Her dance recital was the weekend prior, so she couldn't wear nail polish and had been too busy to put new varnish on. Lucy, Lucille Jane Astor to strangers, wanted to chop the long hair off. Unfortunately, a bob would be impossible to put in a dance bun. And how many ingenue roles had bobbed hair? Grace Halliwell and Marie Abrams, Lucy's best friends and partners-in-crime, looked at her as if she were crazy. Apparently they were formulating plans already. Grace's dark locks fell absently along her angular jaw and she smiled, sickeningly, in Lucy's direction. Lucy returned the look with ease, a smirk turning up the corner of her pale pink mouth. Grace and Marie were known as a dynamic duo of sorts; two little dancer darlings who did everything together. Lucy found this pathetic. There was a time when she craved the constant attention that lofty social standing could offer. She achieved that, but soon found it boring. It wasn't fulfilling like spotlight.
xxxxxx"Wait, you're not going out?" Marie protested. Somehow, Lucy's two closest friends never could understand her. Her preferred form of receiving attention, she often told them, was applause onstage. She loved being praised. She had no need to be with people all the time. Not like Marie. Her body was absolutely perfect for dance. Too bad the head on top of that body contained only tulle and ribbons. Lucy was no genius herself, but she needed to do well on finals. A school year of hard work in theatre and hard play at night was going to give the flapper-wannabe a run for her money unless she studied hard. Marie and Grace were in the same boat, but the difference was that they couldn't give a s**t. Lucy had to. For herself, really. Schools wouldn't even listen to her sing if she got Cs in English or pre-calculus. Right? Lucy turned her angular jaw away from her friend. Any other weekend, maybe they could convince her to throw on a glittery frock and step out under the lamplight. But this could not be argued.
xxxxxx
