Gap Year Project Read online

  Gap Year Project

  Kim O’Cain

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1. Gapped

  Chapter 2. Make This Go Away

  Chapter 3. Done Deal

  Chapter 4. The Count Down

  Chapter 5. Nature Calls

  Chapter 6. Roll Call

  Chapter 7. Birchers Unite

  Chapter 8. The Gathering

  Chapter 9. The Oaks

  Chapter 10. Assumed

  Chapter 11. Waters Rise

  Chapter 12. Take A Hike

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to You…

  Chapter 1. Gapped

  Ashlyn stepped out of Highcliff Café holding her large pumpkin milk, fair trade, organic pour over, decaf coffee. She turned right onto Columbus Avenue without looking. She was still in shock from the letter she received that morning. How could this happen to her? Really?! She had been gapped—involuntarily selected— into the Gap Year Project.

  This did not fit into her life plan. This certainly did not fit into her dad’s life plan for her. She was being groomed to run the family’s multi-award winning and world-renowned architecture firm, Waters and Waters Architects. Built by her great-grandfather, Augustus Waters, and great-great-uncle, Bernard Waters, in 1912 and now run by her father, Michael Waters. And shortly to be run by Ashlyn Waters. After finishing high school, ivy-league college, and grad school, Ashlyn would take the helm and expand the business into more parts of Europe and Asia.

  You couldn’t walk anywhere in New York City without seeing a Waters and Waters building. From small brownstones to high-rise commercial offices, the Waters family literally made their stamp across the 15 square miles of this urban metropolis. Their buildings housed hundreds of thousands of people who lived, worked, or played in the country’s largest city.

  No, Ashlyn couldn’t possibly be forced into the GYP. Surely, her dad could get her out of it. There was no way that a sophisticated and cultured city girl could possibly be forced to be part of “Young adults taking a year before college to serve America through hands-on projects that support our communities, environment, education, arts, and wellbeing.”

  It’s a great cause—college-bounds kids working to fix the problems in America. But really, it’s for people that don’t have any options or love volunteering or are passionate about saving poor refugee kids or endangered foxes, she thought. None of those applied to her. This was the third year in a row for eighteen-year-olds to get gapped.

  The Gap Year Project was a national community service program for young people ages eighteen to twenty-four. It had been started ten years ago as a volunteer program to provide new skills to young adults while benefiting local economies across the country. It was a very successful program with businesses, non-profits, and the government working together to solve real issues in every city that wanted to participate. There were permanent GYP camps set up across America. The goal was to unify Americans—volunteer a year, meet other young people from across the nation, and give back to the country.

  This year not enough people volunteered. And because there was so much work to be done, so many organizations and cities waiting for people to help, so much federal funding to be paid by the end of the year, a mandatory recruiting was unavoidable.

  The words from the brochure flashed in her mind about how GYP was working with me and for me, “There are four units. Each unit consists of twenty team members where each member plays a vital role in tackling specific challenges our country faces. Each team member is selected for a unit based on interests and aptitude testing unless drafted. Team members are provided housing, meals, job training, a monthly stipend of $250, and either college course credit or $15,000 towards college tuition. GYP service is one year.”

  The brochure went on to describe the living quarters as “cozy housing units that provide privacy while being part of a team of like-minded individuals.” Translation: dorms with tiny beds, maybe a curtain for privacy and a lot of people that don’t want to be there. The thought of leaving her thirty-first floor penthouse with a full-time cook, housekeeper, and house manager was unthinkable.

  Ashlyn’s room consisted of four separate areas on the west side facing Collins Park (named after her godfather’s grandfather). She had a six hundred square foot bedroom with modern furnishings all designed by her dad in shades of steel blue and grey. Her walk-in closet was like going into a boutique brimming with clothes, many with the tags still visibly dangling. She had her own bathroom which was bigger than most apartments in the city. It had a deep soaking tub, a separate shower large enough for a family of four with a rain showerhead, and a double vanity that was the length of a pick-up truck. And her office had a killer view of the park and opened onto a spacious patio with two blue, oversized, comfortable couches, a fire pit, and boxed hedges.

  Bunk beds, bad food, boring classes. What could be worse? How could she possibly live like that? No friends, no shopping, no freedom? she thought angrily.

  She was graduating from the prestigious Bender Academy where she was the head of the debate team, honors club president, and the big sister co-chair. Ashlyn’s schoolmates’ parents included senators, lobbyists, A list actors, lawyers (lots of them), financiers, and tech industry CEO’s. She had been accepted at one of the most elite universities in the country, Blythe, which also happened to have not one, but two, buildings bearing the Waters name—not to mention three generations of Waters called this their alma mater. And it was just minutes from her home.

  Instead of starting her life, she would be putting it on hold. She would be moving to Orick, CA—some backwards town in the middle of nowhere. Ashlyn was jolted back to reality when she slammed into someone and her hot, foamy coffee, now sandwiched between them, oozed over her hands, arms, favorite pale blue cashmere sweater, and down the front of her new jeans.

  Could this day get any worse? Ashlyn froze with her free hand clinched nearly as tight as her lips and slowly opened her eyes. She stayed frozen like that for a few more seconds as she looked into the palest of blue eyes that looked past her own eyes and straight into her soul. She felt completely naked but as if SHE was being seen for the first time in her life. Ashlyn felt completely transcendent.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” Ashlyn said, as she clumsily tried to brush off the foam from the front of his charcoal grey jacket. He grabbed her hand saying, “Don’t worry about it. I was looking at my phone and didn’t see you. Here let me help.” He pulled out napkins from the brown paper bag he was holding and started to dab the coffee and foam from her sweater. Ashlyn didn’t stop him. She didn’t want him to stop. His touch was like an electrical pulse of warmth and excitement. He quickly took back his hand with a look of sheepish delight and slight embarrassment as he realized he was touching her breast.

  “I’m sorry—again. Here you take it.” He shoved the wad of dirty napkins into her hand. “Can I pay for you to get that cleaned?” he offered with a look of uncertainty.

  “No, please don’t worry about it. It was my fault. I’m sorry that I ruined your jacket. Please let me pay for that.” Ashlyn pulled out a fifty-dollar bill from her jeans pocket and extended her hand to give it to him. He looked down at the bill and hesitated for several seconds before he looked up into her eyes once again, shook his head, then abruptly turned and walked away.

  Ashlyn was, for the second time that day, perplexed. What was that? She had never once felt like that with anyone. Not even her ex-boyfriend, Cooper. She stood there looking at his back as he made his way west on 68th.

  Now what? She felt like running after him but what would she do or say, “Hi, I’m Ashlyn, and I think I jus
t fell in love with you. Want to run away with me so I can dodge the draft?”

  Whoa. Get a grip, Ashlyn, she thought. But in a flash, she was running west on 68th, too. But not to catch Blue Eyes. She had just ten minutes to get to school before the last bell. She’d have to deal with all this later. Her final exams were this week, and she needed to keep focused to keep her 4.0 GPA.

  All day Ashlyn’s mind wandered to those blue eyes, and she constantly had to shake loose of those thoughts to focus on her schoolwork. Even her friends who usually entertained her couldn’t keep her attention. She didn’t even know his name. She knew she might never see him again and that made her very sad. She had lost him before ever knowing him. What an odd feeling. Was this real or was she just grasping at anything that would keep her from going to Orick and a whole new world that could never make her happy?

  Ashlyn knew she would have to tell her parents in just a few hours. Surely her dad could get her out of this. She didn’t know anyone in her circle of friends that had gone to GYP, not even their older siblings or cousins or friends of their friends.

  As she walked home, she didn’t think about telling her parents. She thought about what she would say if she ran into Blue Eyes again. She hoped that would be the next morning. Maybe, just maybe, he went that same route every day too.

  Chapter 2. Make This Go Away

  Ashlyn walked into the dining room at 7:00 p.m. Dinner was always served at the same time every day. Her mom, Dana, was already sitting waiting with a glass full of Pinot Grigio and the bottle chilling just to her right. Her dad was late as usual. He’d never made it to dinner by 7:00—ever.

  Dana was a beautiful, sophisticated, organized, and darling socialite whose family roots were as prestigious as her fathers. Their marriage had been a good merger for everyone, except maybe them. Ashlyn thought her parents loved each other. She would witness small gestures of true affection and admiration, but they were fleeting and almost secretive. She did know that her parents loved her fiercely and would do anything for her.

  Ashlyn took her seat at the mahogany table for twelve. She loved this table. It belonged to her grandparents, and she fondly remembered dinner parties at their house; one party, in particular, she had dressed in her favorite forest green velvet dress with a big satin bow tied in the back. She wore black shoes with sequins that sparkled like diamonds when the shimmering light reflected off the two large crystal chandeliers reported to have been made by André-Charles Boulle for Louis XIV. Ashlyn loved to twirl in that dress as she made her entrance into the dining room. She loved even more the oohs and aahs from the dinner guests. She felt so alive and grown-up. She had a full place setting just like everyone else, including the crystal goblet for her Shirley Temple.

  This thought brought tears to her eyes as she realized it would only be a few more weeks before she left this table, her parents, and her friends. Dana looked up as a single tear slid down Ashlyn’s face. Immediately Dana rose from the table and took her daughter’s face into her hands and tilted her head up so she could look into her eyes.

  “What’s wrong, my love?” Dana asked with the tenderness only a mother can show. With a croak in her voice, Ashlyn replied, “Oh, Mom. It’s just too much. I just can’t do it. Please, you have to help me.”

  Dana’s eyes focused more intently into her daughters before she responded. “What can I do? What’s wrong? Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?” asked Michael Waters, as he walked into the room.

  “Ashlyn was just about to tell me why she is so upset and crying,” replied Dana anxiously. Both Michael and Dana turned to Ashlyn, holding their breath waiting for some horrible news. Ashlyn, looking like a small child and not like an 18-year old on the verge of breaking away from the nest, blurted out, “I’ve been drafted.”

  She lifted her hand holding the envelope with the draft letter and brochure. Her father walked briskly toward her and snatched it out of her hand with a look of annoyance and anger. He pulled the contents out and read aloud the letter stating Ashlyn’s assignment and date to report to camp. He slammed down the papers on the table making the china jump and clink, startling Dana and Ashlyn.

  “This will not happen. They cannot make you go. I will fight this. It’s unheard of—a Waters joining GYP Our country needs you to go to college and take over this business. That is how we help our community, by building the actual community, not by toiling in some God forsaken town in the middle of nowhere. Don’t worry. I will fix this.”

  “Daddy, thank you. I just can’t imagine leaving you and Mom to go to nowhere California. Please don’t let them ruin my life, my freedom, my plans,” sobbed Ashlyn, as she three-way hugged her parents.

  Dana broke the moment by asking, “What should we do, Michael? Who can we ask to make this go away? What about Brady? Could he help?”

  “I vowed never to speak to Brady again, so don’t ever bring up his name again. We don’t need him. I think Bill Williams can handle this. He’s in charge of the Senate National Community Service Committee that oversees this. Surely, he owes us a favor after I got his daughter into Blythe,” replied Michael.

  With that everyone took a collective breath as Lupe, the Waters housekeeper of twenty-five years, entered with dinner. The conversation turned to the usual and often mundane things that make up day-to-day life, like who was vacationing in St. Barts this summer and the new penthouse that the Jamisons bought for a steal from the Weinburgs who lost all their money in some pyramid scheme.

  Ashlyn wholeheartedly believed her father. He had always kept his word. She could put this behind her and pick up where she left off—Blue Eyes—hopefully, but first graduation, then a summer vacation to Cala Luna before college.

  Chapter 3. Done Deal

  Michael didn’t waste any time. After dinner, he called Senator Bill Williams to schedule a meeting for first thing the next morning. Bill immediately accommodated Michael’s request. No one said no to Michael Waters. Bill couldn’t afford to lose Michael as a supporter, with his looming re-election just sixty-two days away.

  Michael left early on Tuesday morning, with plenty of time to meet Bill for their 8:00 a.m. meeting. He had the packet with him, felt confident that he could wrap this up in a few minutes and leave plenty of time to discuss a new development project that could make both men richer.

  Bill sat at his desk with a coffee mug in his hand that read, “I’m a paid protestor—US Senator 116th Congress.” He quickly put the coffee down and stood to shake Michael’s hand. It was a firm shake. Michael liked showing him who had the real power. It always unnerved Bill.

  Michael launched right into it, “Bill, I need and expect your help. It appears that my daughter, my only child, Ashlyn—you remember Ashlyn—was mistakenly drafted into GYP. Here’s the paperwork. Make this disappear, won’t you? Who needs a scandal so close to the election?”

  Bill was speechless. Was he really threatening him and with what? Bill didn’t have the power to make this go away. The draft was a confidential and random selection process that was only revocable under very specific criteria—death, disability, or detention. Certainly, none of those applied to Ashlyn.

  “Michael, you know that I would do everything in my power to help you. The Herald Project, the Geo Campus, the Woods Development, all those projects were pushed through because I care about you and the benefits you bring to our community. Yes, I work on the National Community Service Committee, and I want to help you now. But I can’t change this,” stammered Bill, red rising in his cheeks with every word. “No one can change this unless she’s dead, disabled or in detention. I’m sorry, Michael. You know I’d do anything if I could.”

  Michael jumped out of his chair, slammed his fist on Bill’s desk, and with an equally red face and veins bulging from his neck replied, “No one tells me no. You will fix this.” Then he turned and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him leaving Bill disoriented and afraid.

  Bill knew Michael would not let this rest and t
hat “no” meant a war was going to be waged. Who would be the winner? Bill was not going down without a fight. He knew Michael would stop at nothing to get his way, including getting him removed from the Committee or from Congress.

  Bill had to get out in front of this, and the way to do that was to leak to the press that Ashlyn Waters had been drafted and that the family was ready to serve our great nation. Once it was public knowledge, it would force Michael to acknowledge the draft and accept it. Above all else, Michael wanted to be respected by the public. His ego needed the fuel of public adoration to sustain his image of himself and his family.

  Chapter 4. The Count Down

  Ashlyn’s iPhone started pinging incessantly with texts from friends. “When are you going? How did you get picked? Where is Orick? What about school? Let’s get together. We’ll miss you so much. This is horrible. I hope it doesn’t happen to me”.

  Ashlyn couldn’t wrap her head around what was happening. Her dad had left early that morning to meet with Bill Williams to get her out of this mess. What had gone wrong? She hadn’t told anyone but her parents about the draft.

  She quickly checked her social handles. The first thread was an article from The Observer confirming that Ashlyn Waters, the daughter of Michael Waters and wife Dana, had been drafted to GYP and would start her service in two weeks. It also went on to say that sources close to the family said the Waters family was saddened that Ashlyn was putting her college plans on hold but supported the need for national service. Her hard work, passion, and leadership skills would be an attribute to the GYP Year Project.

  Well, she certainly wasn’t getting out of it now. The world knew. She was going to Orick, and her future was out of her hands.

  She sat on her bed, looking at all her belongings and started crying. She would be alone in the middle of nowhere, and for the first time, her father couldn’t help. She felt lost, alone, and totally unprepared for the first time in her life.