Welcome to Cliffnotes, a series of fiction shorts serving as a lighthearted prequel to IVY.
I made these just for fun, not as seriously edited, but short, sweet, and simple! Cliffnotes was the most popular series on my old blog, so I hope you enjoy it too!
Salutations, Journal!
My name is Clifford Clarkson. I am a senior year high school student attending a boarding school in hopes of putting my full focus on education. While I will take the best college I can get, my aim is to make it to the Ivy League. Everything is going well, including my grades, SAT scores, and extracurriculars. The only place where I am stuck is finding something to write for my college essay. This journal is meant to help with that.
Journal Entry 1: Dress Code
A sharp rattle startled me from my early morning studying. My water spilled, blotting out my group project notes. Great! Let’s hope the others have theirs done.
I returned my earbuds to my ears, bemoaning how they’d fallen out. Tired as I was, I’d do what I could to keep my mind sharp.
I checked my roommate’s whereabouts to see if I could ask him for notes before classes. Still asleep. I donned my usual polished blazer with a school T-shirt underneath, double-checked my sleeve cuffs, and fixed the time on my watch. Perfect. All ready to get the day started.
As I stumbled into my two-dorm suite’s lobby, I nearly tripped over a backpack left out by one of my suitemates from the opposite dorm. Sable, of course he- Nevermind. No use getting worked up over him.
I needed to focus.
I filled my water bottle in our sink, great to keep the brain healthy. With my three suitemates all fast asleep, I assumed I was alone enough to vent. As I washed my face, I let out a groan of frustration. I assumed it would be muffled enough by my hands to avoid waking them.
“Mghh… Cliff? You’re up now?” a careless voice tumbled off the suite couches.
Shoot! I squinted at the sight of my suitemate, Sable, dressed in a backwards hoodie and Cheeto dust.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I apologized politely.
“Oh, it’s cool,” Sable said. “Probably should get up anyway. Gotta connect with who I can before class, I’m running out of time to find someone to take to prom!”
That’s… a bizarre motivation. Sable, now awake, quickly replaced his Cheeto-colored hoodie with a green one.
“I wouldn’t worry. Your grades are failing, and you’re running out of time to turn in notes for our project! You’ll have another year if you keep this up,” I said.
“Oh, you actually did that?”
“Yes. And I need you to finish your part of it.”
“Come on. School’s no big deal,” Sable scoffed.
He started making me sick. If my roommates can’t get their acts together- I’m sorry. Judging them won’t help anyone.
“I could help tutor you if you like,” I said. “I don’t want you to fail.”
“You think you’re so wise for saying that. You have no idea what love is. Have you ever had a crush in your life?” Sable shook his head of an oily blonde mess.
I chuckled at that, but quickly stifled it, crossing my arms. I had, still have, a crush. His name was Bradley MacDonald, the school preferred to call him “handsome”. But even a popular jock couldn’t distract me from what’s more important.
Sable sadly caught the hint. “What?”
“It’s- I’m sorry, it’s nothing.”
“I know you want to say something,” He said with a playful wink.
Fine. “It’s just- Unwashed hair, wrinkled hoodie, pants dragging on the ground. That’s… not… attractive.” I looked him up and down, returning the knowing look.
His outfit reminded me why this school needed a proper dress code.
“I thought people loved this cut,” Sable replied.
“Trust me. I know what makes a man look good,” I said. Whatever it took to get him to wash his hair for once in his life…
“Then… What does?!”
“Let’s just say they’re right when people say they love a man in uniform,” I smiled. I’d found another chance after losing the Student Council election to bring about a school uniform.
“You know what’d make me,” Sable emphasized, “ATTRACTIVE?”
Hypothetically, Sable, hypothetically. I found a spare uniform jacket for him.
“Here. Sign up for after-school tutoring, and I’ll teach you.”
He accepted both the jacket and my tutoring without hesitation. Score!
Perhaps, I’ve found a way to bring him back to education.
