But I couldn’t tell how glad we are to be done with living with four other people.
It’s just the two of us, in a routine we both love and settle nicely into. I have quickly found a job at Simpple, the computer firm where you need to work to be at the very tip of innovation. Hugo got hired at as a game developer for an indie studio.
Our hours are basically the same, our workplaces are at the same subway stop. We go to work and back home together, and then at night we talk about our days, while we watch whatever Myshuno Channel is broadcasting on our tiny, tiny TV screen.
We’re in control, and even though we are seriously procrastinating the fixer-uppering of the place, we are happy.
“Do you think we should finally repaint the walls?”
“Yeah sure, tomorrow!”
“Wait no, tomorrow Simdr is on TV, we can’t miss it.”
I realize that at this point I have emphasized the privileges of being a Stewarts enough. And for the past few years, you’ve seen me live in a place that’s just a step under a mansion. So you might be surprised to learn that the flat Hugo and I move into… is not exactly peak luxury.
It’s a dump. I mean a fixer-upper, it’s a fixer-upper.
I’m tired of gaining what I have and being who I am through my ancestors and the centuries they spent working to become memorable. I want something that’s mine, and I want to earn it for myself.
Actually, scratch that. Hugo and I want something that’s ours, and to earn it for ourselves.
So we’re happy, as we move into this flat. It’s got a small terrace, a beautiful view on the Spice Market, and even though it is a fixer-upper, it’s already our own.
Hugo hard at work trying to build furniture, while I move boxes of stuff and put said stuff away.
The caffeinated soda can on the floor was not his first. We’re both supposed to be geniuses, but Simkea is not our forte.
Our kitchen! The counters are rundown, the plates old and cracked, and the fridge is still empty, but you know, it’s good enough for pancakes, so it’s good enough for me.
Our bedroom is one uncomfortable bed, a few boxes, and holes on the wall. Oh, and the notes for my and Hugo’s big project. When we stop cleaning the flat, late at night, this is what we talk about before collapsing on the mattress.
Really, the bathroom is the real problem in this flat. Look at all that water damage.
At least we have an inside clothesline?… And a bathtub. Yes. Having a bathtub is good.
The laundry room, with its exposed pipes and ruined wallpaper…
The dining area, living room, and door to the terrace. All very empty for now…
It’s not much, but it is ours. I snap a pic at Hugo, who’s happy and proud, and doesn’t notice the GIGANTIC spider crawling on the wall.
The six of us, Charlotte, Shanna, Romain, Marie, Hugo and I, celebrating our birthday on the same date to send off these beautiful years.
We’re adults now. At the end of the week, we’re vacating the Air Complex.
This has been wonderful.
This has ended; that way something else can begin.
My parents and grandma joined the party in Willow Creek, to my greatest joy. Surrounded by so many people that I love so much. Is there any better way to grow older? I mean wiser?
Celebrating all at once means way too much confetti. Or is there really ever too much confetti?
And then, the six of us talk until dawn. About everything. Stupid jokes, salacious topics, and then much more serious, deep subjects. Things we wouldn’t have discussed or thought about when we first moved in together.
The Rascals and I. We grew up together, in every way possible.
Prom night, at last. I must say, I think we’re all absolutely stunning tonight.
Shanna has brought out the sari her grandma gave her, though when she first received it she carefully tugged it far, far inside her wardrobe. It compliments her beautifully.
Hugo couldn’t be bothered to go full suit-and-bowtie, but somehow, even with his lazy, no-effort, couldn’t-be-bothered-to-shave style, he still looks stunning.
Marie has a sparkly dress that’s just extra enough for her; Romain has very little cares to give about the pastel thing we had going on and went full red.
Marie and I stuck very close to the theme of the prom. The Magical Garden. So we both have arguably plain dresses, mine in cream white, hers in pale green. she’s wearing make-up and looks nothing like her usual self. I pinned white, very fake roses to my hair.
We’ve never looked more dapper, and probably never will again. One of us had better win Prom Queen or King.
First selfie to set the mood, and immortalize the chic. It’s a beautiful night.
The little sign at the entrance of the ballroom reads “Welcome to the Magical Garden”. At least we know we’re in the right place.
Can you think of a school dance where people actually dare to dance right away instead of awkwardly not looking at each other, waiting to see who will dare first?
No, this is not me spiking the juice.
Not. At. All.
The food was great. Only one regret: some genius chose to wear a cream white dress and didn’t eat anything for fear of staining it.
Genius, Azalea, genius.
I have to admit the prom could get wedding-y on some pictures. But they were such beautiful pictures!
It couldn’t have been more magical. As we twirl on the dancefloor, Hugo and I are pretty much alone, in the most romantic of places.
And so are Romain and Marie apparently. They do make a stunning couple.
The photos from the prom, we’ll keep on cherishing for decades.
Romain and Marie’s is all about confidence.
Shanna and Charlotte also pose together, and I sort of want to frame their picture and hang it in my living room.
Ha, and of course Charlotte won Prom Queen, because why wouldn’t she? Everyone voted for her. She had the beauty, the grace, the popularity, and most importantly, the absolute sass.
And finally, Hugo and I. The photo that concluded the most perfect night of all.
(And you can tell that it is the end, because at this point my eyes are basically twitching)
Traditionally, our graduation ceremony takes place in the oldest building in Windenburg, the library.
So this is where we go, in the early evening.
The ceremony involves our tiny class of graduates, a speech given by the principal, and a photo shoot in our pretty black gowns.
We’re all proud, but mostly happy this is all over. My friends and I were free of parental authority… Now to be free of school as well, and actually take on the world!
First, we’ll take on prom tomorrow.
Speech!
Charlotte, incredibly hyped about getting her degree. She’s telling me about the internship she’s found, at Pizzazz Magazine. They’re providing her with a flat in San Myshuno, and in the Fashion District, no less!
No wonder she’s this happy.
Late night selfies, before Shanna and Charlotte fled the scene. They had to pack and prepare for their move to the big city.
Yes, cause as it turns out, they’re moving in together, in that San Myshuno, Pizzaz Mag-provided flat…
Official photo of Romain and Marie. Yes, this is what Romain looks like without the mohawk. It’s still there, just… hidden. Under the cap. Probably with tape.
I didn’t ask, okay.
And the classiest of the classy. Hugo and I are also headed to San Myshuno. Somewhere less posh than the Fashion District, but somewhere we found ourselves and deeply love, and can’t wait to make a home.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 