Page 57 of Faux Real
“It’s pathetic,” I note, handing back her phone. “People actually care about this shit?Youcare about this shit?”
“I try not to,” Kenny admits in a timid hum, pocketing her phone. “But it’s hard when people post about you. How am I supposed to ignore it when I know the entire school is judging me? Talking about me?”
I cock my head to the side. “You just do. You ignore it. Why does it matter what people say about you orthinkabout you? Opinions are worthless, especially the opinions of those that don’t actually know you.”
“It’s not that easy, Ollie,” she whispers, hanging her head, her eyes fixed on the ground. “To not care. Gossip—it’s like wildfire, it’s hard to ignore. Even if you try, the smoke always finds you.”
Hooking two fingers under her chin, I lift up her face, my solemn gaze burrowing into her glossy eyes. “None of this matters, Kenny,” I whisper. She swallows against my fingers as I pull my hand away. “In five years from now, it’s not going to matter.”
“But itdoesmatter,” she breathes, her chest rising. “I don’t want to ruin my reputation before I even get into college. I don’t want to be labeled something I’m not. It’s a nice thought, Oliver, but you’re wrong. Everything matters. Everything.”
“I feel bad for you, Kennedy,” I sigh, closing my eyes and resting my head on the wooden wall. “You’ve been lied to your whole life.”
She’s been told the same thing I was, most likely by her parents, her teachers, everyone. The only difference is thatInever listened. But she did.
Sad. It’s sad.
“I haven’t been lied to,” Kenny protests. “I’ve just been taught a harsh truth. I’m not saying that like my value rests in the hands of other people, but it contributes to it and sometimes takes away from it. It’s life, Oliver. It’s the reality ofourworld. It’s naive to think that other people’s opinions don’t matter.”
“Our world?” I ask, opening my eyes. “What world is that Kenny? The world of Chanel, champagne, and caviar? There’s onlyoneworld and you’re not going to be able to enjoy it unless you stop caring about what other people think.”
“You just don’t get it.” She expels an incredulous scoff. “I don’t have the luxury of not caring, Oliver. I have a plan for my future. It’s a plan that I’ve had since I was five years old. And thesuccessof that plan rests on my image. Because no matter how many accolades I earn, or how high my GPA is, if my image is tarnished, that’s all people will remember. That’s all they’ll care about. If Corrine’s dad didn’t make that whole mess go away and the newspapers got wind of the story, do you think Harvard would admit me? No. BecauseIwould be bad fortheirimage.”
“Jesus, Kennedy,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re seventeen, don’t you think you’re putting a bit too much pressure on yourself? It’s just college. If Harvard doesn’t want you, go to a different school. Or say fuck it, like me, and don’t go to college at all.”
Kenny blinks. “You’renotgoing to college?” she asks, her voice rising, immediately wincing when she realizes where we are. “Sorry—butwhat? Are you serious? Youhaveto go to college. Everyone goes to college.” She pauses, glaring at me with uncertainty. “Your parents aren’t making you go? Seriously?”
She is so fucking high strung.
“They haven’t mentioned it so no, I don’t think they are,” I reply with a chuckle. They’re probably grateful I’m finishing high school. “My brother just graduated from Oxford, he’s probably going to start working with my father and eventually take over his company, so they don’t need me.”
“Okay...but what do you want to do with your life?” Kenney asks, pursing her lips. “Like after high school. What are your goals? Career aspirations?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know.”
She draws near me, her amber eyes flickering across my face in disbelief. “Youdon’t know? We’re Seniors, Ollie! How do you not know?”
“Well, what doyouwant to do?” I ask, deflecting the questions. “What areyourcareer aspirations? Hmm?”
Kennedy straightens out her shoulders, a proud smile on her face. “I want to be a US Senator.”
“A senator?” I snort. How ambitious. “Really?Why?”
“Because I want to help people,” she says matter-of-factly as I pull out my phone to do a little research. “And by being asenatorI’ll have enough power to enact real change. My dad and I have it all figured out. I’ll go to Harvard and get my degree in Government with a specialty in public policy, then I’ll go on to get my law degree then I’ll work as a lawyer for a few years, maybe help run a few political campaigns, andthenwhen I’ve gained enough experience I’ll run for Senate.”
“You are aware that the median age for a US Senator is sixty-one, right?” I ask, reading the search result on Google. “So you’re going to have to wait like forty...four yearsbefore you can actuallyhelp people? That is a long-term plan you’ve got there.”
“Sixty-one?” Kennedy asks, her eyes bugging out. “Are you serious?” She grabs my phone from my hand and pouts. “Oh shit, I didn’t know that.”
“I thought you know everything,” I tease. “Let’s hope Harvard doesn’t hear about this conversation. They’d probably ban you for life.”
“Shut up,” she mutters, crossing her arms defensively. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Sure—”
A flurry of raindrops patter against the steel roof of the shed.
My lips curl up into a smirk as I hop up. “See? I told you it was going to rain.”
