September 18th.

Would you look at that, baby? We’re here again. Listen closely, baby girl. I am about to reveal a story that hasn’t been printed on pages or muttered into the air.


September 18th, 2002. We could barely reach the handle of those great doors when we first stepped into Julliard School. It was unbelievable, how those walls radiated passion. If its wasn’t for Dad’s huge hand caging our tiny palm, we would have stumbled over as the leggy swans in leotards and pointe shoes passed by. In fact, we did stumble over at one point, when we tried to stand like one of the ballerinas. We never really were gracefully. But that’s all right, that little booboo was worth it, because the moment our butt tapped the ground, our eyes flickered and opened, only to be met by a door cracked open. Our hand slipped through the gap between his fingers and we skipped to catch a glimpse of whatever was going on behind those doors. Wrapping our fingers around the edge of the door, we gently tugged it open, enough to get a better view and still hide. And that’s when we saw her. The theatre. A girl dressed in rags. A guy adorned in a suit. Interacting in a way we never saw before. Lights, music, costumes.  And the stage. The stage. It seemed sacred almost. Even when our curiosity got the best of us, drawing us into the room even more, we refused to get too close to the stage, as if it’s magic would drag us into an endless whirlwind of dramanado.

“There you are,” Dad said, picking us up. “I’ve been looking for you.” Apparently, he’s been looking for us for the past couple of hours. I guess we lost track of time as we explored the rest of the drama department. What can we say? Once we mustered up the courage to walk past that one door, we couldn’t stop.


Well, my 5 year old self, here we are again. September 18th, 2014. We’re here. We’re here.

And it smells like home. No mum, no dad, but a whole lot of hope.


Scribbles Section

Ahhhh, new plot, how exciting! Dyl has grown up and is off to college! I hope you liked my little introduction to this new–and hopefully fun–plot.




Squabbles and Waffles

Currently, I am dipping a strawberry in low-fat whipped cream, ooh-ing and ahhh-ing at the way the fluffy snow treat swirls perfectly around it. Yum.


Sorry, sorry. I know I’m late!” I apologised as I made my way to the table where my two co-stars and good friends (as of last month…) were seated. My curls bounced and the charms on my Lady Dior bag clanged together with each step I took. “I’m here, I’m here!”

“Geesh, Dyl, you’d think with a watch as shiny as yours, you’d be able to keep track of the time.” Sienna teased, tossing her shiny black hair to one side.

“What?” I glanced at my watch. “Whatever. Time flies, but diamonds are forever.” I shrugged and sat down on the plush, beige chair.

Venus giggled. “She’s just messing with you, we just got here.”

“Crazy girls, we are. I mean, late for food?” I asked in the highest note my voice could hit.

“What happened to your diet?” Sienna asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“It died of loneliness.” I licked my lips, my eyes travelling across the room to the two long buffet tables and omelette/pancakes/waffle bar.

The waiter leaped towards our table in one big step. “Hello, welcome to Lafayette Grand Cafè & Bakery. Would you like any drinks?”  

Venus ordered a detox tea. Sienna ordered a Blueberry Blast. I barely muttered the words “Skinny Iced Latte” before charging to the long buffet table.

I could hear Venus and Sienna’s stilettos stabbing the ground as they followed me, but I was too taken aback by the variety of croissant fillings to slow down for them. I only slow down for Gordon Ramsay. And Karl Lagerfeld. 

I found myself at the omelette/pancakes/waffle bar as I reached the very end of the first table, and I could already tell this will be my new favourite brunch place.

Fast-forward a few minutes later, and the three of us were back at our table. I carefully lowered my plate onto the cream-coloured cloth draped over the table.


I was having quite an intimate moment with my beloved crème pàtissière-filled, fruit-topped waffle, when Sienna broke the silence.


“Hmm?” I managed to mumble through bites.

She shared a hesitant glare with Venus. “How’s your mum?

The sweetness lingering on my tastebuds turned bitter faster than you could say ‘fritter’.

“Oh, uhm,” I set my fork on the side of my plate and grabbed a napkin, setting it on my lap. I wasn’t as worried about the crumbs falling into my lap as I was about having to face Venus’ concerned eyes. “She’s better, but still in hospital. It’s just that, my dad…” I let out a heavy sight and threw my head back, amazed at how drained I felt just at the mention of his name.

“What’s wrong, Dyl?” Sienna reached across the table and gave my hand a supportive squeeze.

“Did something happen?”  Venus’ anxious tone somehow managed to pull the story out of me.

I sighed, preparing myself for what I was about to tell. Normally, I would deny it and convincingly say that I was just calculating the calories on my plate. After all, I am an actress. But something about the presence of these two pulled it out of me.

“It all started this morning.  Ryan and I made Mum a cup of her favourite tea and brought it to the hospital. Jamie was there with my dad. She hasn’t left his side since he came back.

‘Let me take that for you,’ Dad insisted. 

Jamie and Ryan started gossiping over some celeb scandal, and normally, I’d be more than into it, but that moment was anything but normal. I saw my dad, he…” I took a deep breath, struggling to accept that this morning’s events did indeed happen.

And I guess it showed, because Venus gave my other hand an equally supportive squeeze. “What happened?”

I gulped, bracing myself. “I saw him take out a little dropper…” I dug my nails into my thigh. “A-a-nd he..” I dug my nails even deeper, as if the deeper they dug into my thigh, the less my voice would break. “He added a few drops of… something.” I shrugged, but the casual gesture did not hide my chewed-up, flaky lips.

I looked up at the two girls sitting opposite of me and flashed them a weak smile, only to be met by their dilated pupils.

“What do you mean… something?” Sienna asked in a calm voice that clashed with her face expression.

I shrugged, trying to find the right words for it. What do you call a vial of mysterious substance? It wasn’t Juliet’s poison. It wasn’t nightshade extract. It might have been. But did I really know for sure? And what if I was wrong? What if he simply added a few drops of medicine she refused to take? It couldn’t be. Could it? Nah… How do you explain that to someone?

“I.. I don’t know.” I sighed, clasping my hands together. Turns out that there was no correlation between how deep my nails went into my thigh and how often my voice broke.  “All I know is, after the first sip, she started coughing. Her face turned blue. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she–she started having a seizure,” I spilled it all in one breath, wanting to cease reliving that memory.  “I swear, for a second I thought I was trapped in a horror movie.”

“Dyl, are you sure?” Venus asked, her arched eyebrows furrowed in opposite directions.

I kicked my calf with the heel of my shoe, praying that my lip didn’t start quivering. With each tinge of hurt that itched at my chest, I kicked with more force.

“Yes.” I could barely breathe out those three letters.

I slapped my palm against my forehead and slammed my elbow on the table as I struggled to tell the rest of the story, as if my hand was a barrier between me and reality.

“I tried to tell my sisters, but Jaime started screaming and… it was all just a big mess.” I said, my eyelids blinking faster than I could ever keep track of. I could barely catch glimpses of light in the time it took for them to fall again.


A few hours of retail therapy later, my phone screen lit up, Massie’s name flashing. I juggled the result of what was supposed to be a “light” walk down Fifth Avenue down my arm as I fetched my phone from my bag.

I’ve been sending Massie apologies non-stop since last night until she finally forgave me an hour ago, followed by a heart-to-heart that required a visit to the powder room and mascara retouching. We decided that we did not want to be the kinds of friends who drifted apart after high school. I stayed up all night looking at photo albums of us, starting from that New Years Eve we met, and all the way to the last selfie we took. How sad would it have been to look back at those photos in a few years and go damn, I really wish it didn’t end like a camera film.

“Hey Mass!” I perked at the sound of her voice.

“Can you buh-lieve Kristen?” she greeted politely (sarcasm, my Dyl-ectables), her voice raging with, well, rage. And hurt. And I may have sensed a pinch of disappointment. “What happened now?” I rolled my eyes. I was so sick of these two fighting over some guy. No guy was worth it, no matter how gorgeous or funny he might be.

“Ughhh!” she injected her frustration into the phone in a quick series of words that I was unable to keep up with. “Can’t she keep her dirty paws off for once? Wasn’t Dempsey enough for her? Does she think it was so easy for me to watch the two of them together, knowing I’m the reason they’re together in the first place? Does she think I’m just going to stand there and go through that all over again?”

I cringed, moving the phone a few more inches away from my ear as Massie’s voice flooded from the speaker. I just couldn’t believe how fast this happened and how neither of them are trying to stop it. And that’s when a lightbulb flashed in my head. “Hey, Mass?”


“I think you need some girl time. What do you say we meet at Central Park and you can tell me all about it.”

“All right.” 

“See you there,” I smiled and hung up, immediately scrolling through my contacts list until I found Kristen’s name. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, composing the text message.

Me: Hey Kris! Central Park tomorrow? We need to catch up! ( smiley emoji ) ( kiss emoji )

I breathed a sigh of relief. Something about this whole scheming thing seemed to make me feel lighter. It shouldn’t even be called scheming. I’m doing the whole world a favor by sparing them another civil war.

“Yay, you’re smiling! You must really like your shoes.” Venus giggled, looking at the row of bags hanging from my arm.

My phone buzzed again. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

“All right. We’ll just meet you at Sephora.” Sienna piped, grabbing Venus by the arm and pulling her towards makeup paradise. 

“Hullo?” I answered, cringing as the memories of this morning’s quarrel flooded back into my red soled (and nails!) -filled mind. 

“Dylan, hey. I need your help,” Ryan whispered.

“What’s wrong? Why are you whispering?”

“I overheard Dad talking to Mum. He wants to take over The Daily Grind.”


Scribbles Section

  • Hey guys! I hope you liked this post! I’m officially back and will start posting regularly again!
  • Exciting news! I found a new PC I absolutely love! You can check my page Society for more info.
  • With a new PC, comes great changes for Dylan. She is now a college freshman, which you’ll see a lot more of in my next post!
  • My new PC had a plot where Massie and Dylan were fighting, and I wanted to incorporate it into this post, so I’m sorry if that part was confusing haha.
  • Our PC is currently looking for an Alicia and a Claire, so let us know if you’re interested!



The Wolf and the Hound

“Smile, Dylan!” ordered the photographer as Jamie pulled me closer to her. We froze in our best we’re-a-happy-family-yay-sisters-for-life pose as we got our pictures taken for our Marvil for Oscar line. I was wearing a flared lace dress, while Ryan was delicately wrapped in silks. Jamie was on the other side of me, wearing the most intricate jacquard ensemble. Normally, I would drool over the designer’s exquisite taste and unbelievable talent. I would awe over the surrealness of the moment and lick my lips at the sight of the buffet table, praying that I didn’t smear my professionally applied lipstick.

But I wasn’t. The moment just didn’t feel real without my mum’s constant nagging. Without her hovering over the campaign team, constantly fixing her posture and reminding us to suck in our tummies. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined what a photo shoot without her would be like, but never in all of my late night thoughts had it been because she was hospitalised. It was always because she trusted us enough to let go for a few hours. Or that she was too busy. Maybe even because her life had gotten too fabulous. But never, never because she was too sick. It wasn’t what the green smoothie jugging monster, the gym session champion Mum would do. 

Earlier on the day, my sisters and I went through our normal pre-shoot ritual. Secrets that have been passed down to us by our mother. Detox water, high end moisturisers and a concoction of organic oils. And a few other stuff that didn’t seem right without her.


My spine jolted, finally extending to its full ladylike posture. Officially awakened from my trance, I stuck out one of my oil-slicked legs and put on the widest smile Mum could wish for.


In times when the future is unpredictable and the present is unclear, there’s only one person you can turn to.

“Hermia!” I called urgently.

A woman in a tie dyed skirt and a black and white kimono emerged from the Moroccan-inspired, throw-filled area. “Who is i– oh, Dylan, dear! Have a seat.” 

I crossed my legs and sat on the cushion tucked under the decoratively carved wooden table.

“What do you come seeking today?” Hermia asked as she sat on the the other side of the table on a tasselled cushion.

You’re psychic, shouldn’t you know? I thought for a second. But I knew better than to question Hermia’s powers. Every prediction of hers has come true. There would be no Pretty Committee without her. My mum wouldn’t have a career. Jamie would still have her old nose.

“You seem distressed,” she said, her speckled eyes looking into mine.

I nodded weakly. “I’d like a reading.”

Hermia’s ring covered hand pushed a tea cup towards me, making the quietest scratch as it moved across the table.

I lifted the tea cup, inhaling its herbal aroma, drinking it quickly, desperate for answers.

“Think of the mysteries you want unveiled as you’re drinking,” Hermia said calmly.

I shut my eyes, thinking hard abut all my questions and sipped the remaining drops of tea. I set the cup down, clacking discretely as it touched the carvings on the tabletop.

“Now spin it around three times.”

I turned the cup around and around slowly, suddenly afraid of the answers I might get.

As soon as I was done, Hermia pulled out a saucer and carefully dumped the remaining liquid by turning the cup over. The green droplets trickled onto the swirl-covered saucer. Hermia turned the cup over again and began reading the tea leaves.

“Hmm…” she hummed as she turned the cup a few degrees up.

A sudden rush of ice tickled my feet. I didn’t know if I could handle what I might see once the veil comes off those mysteries.

“A woman in your life seems to be sickly.” She continued to tell me her predictions as she saw them unfolding. “She is surrounded by the cunning fox and the dangerous ice berg.”

Yes! Wait–what?

“I see a  rainbow. Your wish will soon come true.”

So… she will get better?

“Interesting… I see two dogs: one of them is a good friend, and the other is an untrustworthy one. Both will show their true colours at times where drops, most likely tears, appear.”

What?  An untrustworthy friend? Tears? Why?

“The barking dog, who is the untrustworthy friend is holding a gun. A symbol for danger. The gun seems to be pointing at a purse.” Hermia twirled the cup in the palm of her hands. “The friend will turn out to be your enemy. His or her gun is pointing at the purse–money.”

Someone envious of my life? What else is new?

“There is a tornado approaching. Prepare for turbulent weather. As for you, I see a diamond in your near future: a gift coming your way.”

“What else do you see?” I asked, eager for some more good news.

“Your path is filled with hills, but the horseshoe will bring you good luck.”

Yes, yes! Good luck!

“I also see a needle, a sign of painful repairs, injecting itself into the ‘J’.”

What J?

“You, however, are taking flight with your new wings. Do not limit yourself to just the ground.”

“And….” Hermia suddenly paused.

“What is it?” I asked worriedly. “What do you see?”

“I see a wolf.”


“It means you will be betrayed by someone.”


So here I am, overanalysing each of Hermia’s predictions. What could they possibly mean?


Scribbles Section

Hello, everyone! I know, I know, I haven’t posted in a while. I’m so, so, so sorry! I’ve been in and out of the hospital for weeks, and once I was out, a few of my friends & family were hospitalised. Thankfully, we are all feeling better now. However, *looks at the remaining green tea leaves in my cup* I see myself paying another visit to the hospital soon.

What do you guys think of the makeover? I don’t really know how I feel about it. I’m not completely pleased with it, if at all. I fee like I can’t do anything right anymore. I might be able to give it a better makeover. fokgskfgj I can do better than this so why am I not? Let me know if you think I should give it another go in the commenty thingy.

Also, what did you think of this post? I really wanted to write about Hermia for a while…. so I did! What do you think her predictions mean? Who or what are the wolf and dogs?



All These Buckets of Rain

Summer. The time of year when stepping outside is perfectly safe and acceptable. They break out their tanning lotions, picnic baskets and skateboards. However, for us Marvils, it is the stormiest time of year.


Mum?” I said wearily as I slid through the hospital’s white hallways, my Alice+Olivia shorts crinkling with each hasty step.

“Oh, good. You girls are here,” Dad, a few paces behind me, said as Ryan and Jamie appeared out of a corner.

“Where is she?” I panted.

Ryan looked down at the floor, trying to hide her red, puffy eyes. Weakly, she cocked her head towards the room we were standing outside of.

“Mum?” I rushed in, my heart beating so hard it was audible. I felt my insides shriek as my wide-open eyes fell on the pale woman tucked in the bed.  I whispered, “Mum,” my voice hoarse from shock. Her skin was golden and glowing just a few days ago. I slowly crawled to her bed as she struggled to open her eyes. She reached a shaky hand up and placed it in mine. I’m not sure whether it was the feel of her gelid skin or the feel of her veins pumping against mine that sent the shiver up my spine. Either way, the bitter nip left goosebumps covering my arms.

A warm gush breathed into my ear. “I spoke to the doctor,” whispered Dad, pulling me out of the room by my waist. I gulped, swallowing my biggest fear: Was it so bad that she couldn’t speak?  

I looked at the tall man with quivering eyes, pressing my lips together as I prepped myself for the worst. Finally, Dad spoke.

“Apparently,” he looked down, pausing to find the right words, “She fainted really early in the morning, so your sisters brought her here. She thought that her blood sugar simply dropped because of her new diet, but..”


“…but, they think it’s something else.”

I stared at his face for a while, my mouth agape. His mouth seemed to move faster than his words, almost as if he was mouthing the words to me. I crossed my arms, shielding myself from the cold/him, “What do you mean something else?”

He just shrugged. His lips parted, but again, no words came out. And this time, not just because I couldn’t hear them.

Jamie got up, obviously saving him from what was about to be an awkward pause. Doesn’t she get that he left us? Doesn’t she see who he is? “They don’t know yet,” she said.


The next day. June 11th. The first official day of Summer Break. The time to shed your winter layers, put on a lace shirt, your favourite sandals, and go to the beach.

But I, Dylan Marvil, faced a different meaning to the anticipated vacation. As the temperatures rise, the beaches heat up and the land sizzles, so do the people. Just like some people are affected by winter blues, others are affected by summertime sadness. The heat pricks their bare skin, and their sweaty foreheads are easier to aggravate than ever.

That is, if you could feel the heat. I was numb to it. I rolled onto our couch, wrapped in my blanket cocoon. I stared at the Oscar De La Renta letter on the coffee table, untouched since the incident. Marvil for Oscar. I sighed. There is no Marvil without Merri-Lee. Suddenly, the ivory paper looked wilted. The embossed logo, dead. It seemed to have lost all its appeal, as if all of its beauty had scurried out to play in the sand, leaving the paper plain and alone. I threw my head back when the scent of coffee and caramel wafted up my nose.

Dad looked down at me. “Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel, just how you like it.”

“Are you calling me fat?” I said with bored eyes.

He dismissed my comment, letting out a sigh-grunt. “So, that Oscar guy. Big opportunity, huh?” He allowed himself to sit on my couch.


“I talked to your mum,” Funny how he suddenly appears and checks on her every other second, after over a decade of a status of MIA. “She wants you to do it.”

“And why should I believe any of the bullshit you tell me?!” I yelled, a little louder than I meant to.

Angrily, I swung my bag over my shoulder. My migraine disappeared. My vision was no longer hazy. My energy levels soared higher than those in the macchiato. And my body, hotter than a freshly-brewed espresso. Nothing fuels the body like anger. I stormed to the door, messy hair, dead face, bare eyelashes, everything.

Just as I clutched the handle, my phone vibrated. It was from Jamie.

See you at Saks at 10. Mum insists we do it.

dividers-1Scribbles Section

Is it just me or has my writing style really changed?

Also, I know that one of the main reasons we love reading about The Clique is because of their glamorous lifestyles, but I thought I’d show a darker side to it–because really, no life is perfect–while still incorporating some of the glamour. Let me know what you think of it in the comments below. 

It might have something to do with the fact that I typed this post in bed rather than my chaise. Hmmm…



Once Upon a Dream

I poke my fork into a bowl of fruit, piercing an apple.


When we were younger, we were told fairytales. We had this idea of Happily Ever Afters etched into our minds, and we carry it with us for the rest of our lives, hoping to find it.

And one day, that day just might come. A diamond-encrusted tiara is placed on our head, lying on top of our golden locks and a throne of whatever it took us to get there.

That day could even be today.

“EH… MA… GAWD!” I squealed in delight, pausing between every word. I’ve done it. In just two weeks.

I’ve lost ten pounds.

I sprung off my scale with joy. The white surface winked at me as the light hit it, congratulating me on a job well done and reminding me of my body’s current state: pure, clean and detoxed. And complimenting me on my new Lancôme Eclat Miracle highlighter.

I hopped down the staircase, humming MIKA’s Popular, my curls bouncing along with my every step.

Popular, I know about popular. 

“Hiii, Daad,” I cheered enthusiastically, my eyes retreating as my smile widened.

“Uhm, hi?” he furrowed his eyebrows, cocking his head. “You’ve got mail.” He shoved an envelope across the table. It was addressed to The Marvil Sisters.

An ivory page was embossed with Oscar de la Renta’s logo. I read the first line with shaky hands.

Oscar de la Renta is pleased to propose Marvil for Oscar.

My hands unclasped in shock. 




I looked at Dad with twinkling eyes. “Where’s Mum?” I perked.

“Oh.” His teeth dug into his bottom lip. “She’s not home.”

What’s the point of running away with your prince if the Evil Queen isn’t there to witness it?

“Where is she?” I looked around, noticing the unusual quiet once my mental singing muted. Ryan and Jamie’s morning wake-up fights were almost… non-existent.  “Where is everyone?”

Dad dropped his head low, his stubbly chin poking at his chest. “Th-they’re at the hospital.”

My eyelids flew open, and my mouth dropped à la The Scream. “What?!”

“Your mum collapsed, and your sisters drove her to see Dr. Whitley.”

My once bouncy curls turned rigid, and my flat stomach felt swollen. I looked at my father as he changed from Dad and back to Daddy Issues. I turned from Dylan Marvil to Maleficent in under a second.

‘Cause you got an awful long way to go


Scribbles Section

Haven’t done a song fic in over a year! Thought it was about time I do another one. Besides, that song has been stuck in my head since 3 am!



Down in the West Coast

Damp grass tickled my feet as it poked through my sandals. I linked arms with Kendall and Kylie as we made our way to the Martin Garrix show. This is so awkward, I thought. I haven’t seen these two since pre-Pretty Committee. A thick strand of red, bedhead waves slapped my face as a sudden gust of wind caused the train of my Free People Jasper dress to fly in the air lightly.  Yes! I relished in the brief seconds of mercy before the sun scorched my visage.

Kendall and Kylie came to a dead halt, and, mouths wide open, surveyed the area around them.

“Is that Vanessa?” Kendall cocked her head to the side, unlinking her arm from our chain to join the Queen of Coachella.

I turned around to survey Kylie’s make-up, preparing to mentally rate her full look.

“I think I see Selena!”

But she was long gone by then.

“B-bye.” I said, surprisingly relieved by the few moments I got to myself. Being around the Jenner sisters just reminded me of the days when I actually thought I was skinny. When each mirror in every set and every hotel room was replaced with a more flattering one, curtesy of The Daily Grind’s ex-stylist. I ate and ate, foolishly believing that I was one of those lucky, petite girls who ate like a bull and looked like a swan. I glued my arms to my sides in a desperate attempt to hide the muffin top poking out of the waist cutouts.


I flinched as another cold breeze grazed my arm. Only this time, the breeze had a voice.

“Dylan?” A familiar voice tickled my ears. I gulped, my body heating up even more as each vibration travelled to my ear.

It couldn’t be. He’s in London. Don’t be silly, Dylan. That’s just who you wanted to see. Stop being so pathetic.

The sweat dripping down my body turned into goosebumps as I slowly turned to the brown-eyed guy I was running away from. The wind seemed to slow to a still blow, and the people around us froze in the heat. The time it took me to utter out his name was the slowest and most painful of my life.

“Blake.” I said, more mono-toned than I intended. I shuffled in my place awkwardly as he smiled, his one dimple winking at me.

I went from utterly bored to utterly speechless. My vocabulary  has been emptied out into the pool of sweat forming in the palm of my hands, a few random letters floating on top of the salty lake. How often does this happen? Being with the one person you’re trying to forget in the biggest music festival ever and actually running into them.

I suddenly snapped out of the thoughts which spun around my head like birds spinning around a cartoon’s scalp after an injury. Suddenly, time went back to its normal pace of seconds, minutes and hours. The momentarily muted background switched back on like a Sony sound system, and the people who seemed to freeze mid-step finally put their knees down, their heels tapping against the ground.

“Hi,” I managed to mutter. My eyes were completely blank when I looked at him, looking like a complete idiot.

His chocolaty eyes danced in the warm, golden sunlight. “Heyy! It’s so nice to see you!”

It was like I forgot how to speak. My responses were delayed, while my brain churned for words to put together, forming coherent sentences. “Y-you too… “

“Are you here all alone?”

“I am now.” My already flushed cheeks burned into my skull, thinking of how lonely I must have seemed.

“Great! I mean, well no,” he laughed nervously. “I meant… I’m about to go to the Martin Garrix show, you coming?” He regained his confidence as if that nanosecond of stuttering was non-exisiting.

I felt like announcing that I didn’t need anybody. I didn’t need Mum, I didn’t need a reality show, I didn’t need celebrity connections. I didn’t need him. I can do fine just on my own, thank you.

“Of course!”

Way to go, Dylan.


Despite the energy coming from the incredible light show and the heat radiating from the bouncing audience’s body, I felt frigid.

Suddenly, the laser beams went crazy as Animals started booming. The pounding beat seemed to blur the barrier between Blake and I. Smirking, he took my hand and started dancing, if that’s what you can call it. It was more like goofing around in an attempt to lift yourself off the ground and land to the rhythm of the song. I couldn’t help cracking a smile. The music soon consumed me, and I was finally able to see everything in colour. From the crazy beams to the many eyes glowing with life. It was like someone had colour splashed a bland picture the moment the music consumed them.

By the time it took me to realise how large Coachella was, and how big music is, Blake stopped being that guy who made everything so perfect before tearing it to pieces, taking whatever remained of the wreck with him, to that person who made what I thought would be an awful few hours to amazing ones.  He agitated my senses in all the right ways.

“Wait, wait, so your mum actually threatened to starve you?” laughed Blake, clutching his abs with one hand and handing me an icy water bottle with the other.

“It’s not funnnyyyy! Quit laughing!” I hit his arm with the water bottle playfully, finding myself laughing, too. “Food is a very serious matter.”

He took a few deep breaths, trying to stifle his laughter into speech. “That flight from London to California was so worth it!”

“Dylan!” called Kylie, treading to me.

“Well, looks like I gotta go.” He buried his hands in his pocket, taking a few awkward side-steps. “It was nice seeing you, Dylan.” He leaned down, pecking my cheek softly.

“You, too.” I smiled at him, fully genuine. I watched his silhouette disappear as he walked away into the horizon.

“Who’s thaaat?” teased Kylie, nudging me playfully.

I smiled peacefully. “A friend.”

And I knew, that I got the closure I needed.


I reach for the dainty, pastel cup of aromatic tea, my mouth savouring the macarons’ delicate grace.



I Got Visas in my Name

My laptop is perched on a clothed Ladurée table, a decorative pistachio-green box of macarons placed next to it. I reach for the Petale de Rose flavour, my ears excited by the sound of the soft shell crushing. If there is anything I learned this spring break, it is that a change of scenery and indulgence every once in a while is essential to one’s wellbeing.


Muuuum, do I have to go?” I groaned as drops of Virgin Mojito climbed up my straw, like a reversed gravitational pull led them ito my mouth.

Mum raised her eyebrows, her brow bone glistening in the sunlight. “The whole family is going.”

“Which is why no one will notice if I’m missing,” I swatted a Coachella-fever carrying fly away.

“Then why did you just buy everything at Free People?” She placed her hand on her hip, giving me a death-glare through her translucent shades. “Well, anything that could fit you anyway.”

Am I the only one who doesn’t find thousands of sweaty, half-naked people dancing to deafening music the least bit alluring? Maybe I should hang out with Grandma more.

I furrowed my eyebrows, reaching for my Missoni cover-up. “I needed something to wear on the first day back–duhAnd for the next few weeks.”

Mum sighed, rubbing her botox-injected temples. “People must see my daughters interacting with celebrities! Not only will The Marvilous Marvils be showing me covering what and who’s there for the Daily Grind, but they will also follow you girls around! As the youngest daughter, you are supposed to be the most hip…”

At that point, my mother’s nagging blurred into white noise.

“–And I already promised Kendall and Kylie that you will be there!”

“Mother,” I sighed, getting up to cool myself by the pool, “I don’t need you to set up playdates for me.”

I dipped my legs in the cool water, remembering the days when I used to hang out with the Jenner sisters and the rest of COCs (Children of Celebrities). The heat left my body as I dived into the crystal pool.


I smirked at her ridiculous threat, floating on top of the clear blue water.

“Hi, room service?” I tapped my freshly manicured nails against the receiver as I glanced at the menu indecisively. My mouth watered as I read the list of delicacies. “Yeah, can I have a–hello?” Beep beep beep. “Hello?” My stomach rumbled as Mum’s finger pressed the switch-hook down, ending the call.

“No room service for you.” she said coldly, crossing her arms against her chest.

My eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“St Barf’s, remember?” What? She’s actually serious? My mouth fell into an O-shape.

“B-but… the program doesn’t start until May.” I pouted, praying that my mum would spare me.

“You’re right. You’re on Merri-Lee’s program, which involves you being food-grounded!”

Food-grounded? Is that even a thing? What if I die from starvation?


I looked at my Mum hopefully.

“…You could come with us to Coachella.”

I looked around the room, as if looking for a way out. “Fine.”


Scribbles Section

Really short, poorly-written post. And for that I apologise. However, I felt like this post would help everything flow better. I hope my next post will make up for it. Hint hint: It involves Dylan indulging in things other than food 😉