This Chapter is kind of a prologue

Don't abandon this story just yet, I just needed to establish what their futures were planned to be.

Stacy, Brad, Samantha, Peter, Ethyl, Morgan, and James all knew two things as they walked up to the principle to receive their high school diplomas: that Stacy and James would, undeniably, be married, and that they would all be friends forever. The seven friends received their diplomas, and smiled for the pictures as their parents all screamed their names. Four years of friendship that had stood through the most grueling tests, outrageous gossip, and the worst hairstyles. Four years that had shaped them into who they were, and set the road down for what they would become, even though, they all already knew.

Peter Jenkins was tall, and handsome, his curly reddish-brown hair stopped around his chin and his wide, chestnut eyes were always full of life. His smile, when he was truly happy, expanded the full width of his face. Peter was one of the most observant of the group, and had lately taken to making witty observations of the on going drama within the relationship of James and Stacy. Their relationship's obvious flaws gave him hours of material to discuss with the other four when James and Stacy weren't around. He was extremely bright, insightful, and without a doubt would one day become a psychiatrist, just like he'd always wanted. He'd often dreamed of starting his own practice, sitting in a big leather chair, and listening to people tell them all about their troubles. He longed for the days when he could be paid for something that he already did. He had a plan that he knew would never fail. He was going to attend Ruquers College in New Jersey and from there get a few internships. He would graduate valedictorian and move on to start his own practice. From there he would meet a beautiful young woman at a bookstore and they would fall madly in love. The plan was perfect; all but one part was exactly the way he'd wanted things to be. If he could have it his way he would not marry some beauty he met in a bookstore, but he would find himself walking down the isle with Samantha. They hadn't always been as good friends as they were when he'd watched her take her diploma out of Dr. Sandstone's hands, but he'd always loved her. She, however, did not feel the same way, and would always be hopelessly tied to Brad, who Peter could never betray, so he pushed all thoughts of Samantha out of his mind. Peter had not been nervous on the last day of school. He had not flinched when the principle had called his name. And he'd smiled, unfailingly as his parents took pictures of him with his new diploma, but now as he sat in his room, staring up at the white ceiling he knew a whole world lay ahead of him, and for the first time in his life he realized that the plan he'd set out for himself might not be the way things were meant to be.

Samantha Caporella had a smile that could kill. When she was feeling mischievous her eyes would light up and the corners of her mouth would curl giving her the unmistakable look of a good girl about to go very wrong. She had always been the most outspoken of the group, never holding her opinions to herself, and never shying away from a sensitive subject. She had short black hair that fell just under her ears and a small upturned nose. Her creamy complexion coupled with her hair gave her an edgy, unconventional look that further fed her desire to stand out. She was, for the most part, a very popular girl, but there was one person whose outspoken hate for Samantha had caused her much frustration. Jessica Stone was a small, ugly girl with beady eyes and a notoriously big mouth. So throughout high school there had always been a silent war between Samantha and Jessica that had never ended in an all out fight but had created some pretty interesting stories. Samantha had wanted to attend FIT, Fashion Institute of Technology, all her life. She wanted the life of a stylist, picking out clothes for celebrities and making millions of dollars. She dreamed of the days when she and Brad would live in a fancy New York apartment with a daughter who they'd spoiled rotten, and an adorable lapdog she could carry around in a purse. She wanted to wear expensive everything, and drown herself in luxury. As she took her diploma from Dr. Sandstone, she knew she was only one step closer to that dream.

Brad Harrison was tall and lean. He had untidy blonde hair and studied more often than a normal eighteen year old boy should. He was logical and knew when he grew older he would become a plastic surgeon. "It's one of the fastest growing industries in America." He would say matter-of-factly whenever Samantha poked fun at his ambition. His blue eyes shimmered whenever he was able to answer a question correctly in class and he poured over books in an attempt to become the expert on almost every subject. When he had stood in front of his class to give his speech as valedictorian the graduating class of 1982 knew that he'd spent months writing and rewriting the speech they were about to hear, and when he'd received his AP diploma they knew he was on to bigger and better things. Brad, on the other hand, left nothing to fate. He'd gotten into UCLA on early decision and had already signed up with his father's friend for an internship at his practice that spring. The number of AP credits he'd obtained during high school allowed him to register for classes with the sophomores making certain that he would get into all the classes that he needed. Brad Harrison had set himself up for a bright future before he took his diploma and stepped out into the world as an adult.

Stacy Jourdan had only one thing on her mind at any given time: boys. Even with her boyfriend James, carefully kept in toe Stacy still could not keep her mind from wandering away from the hand he'd placed on her thigh to the tall football player standing only a few steps away. She was not extraordinarily beautiful, but was charming and sociable which made her pleasant company for any boy. She was very petite with a scrunched up nose and small grey eyes. Stacy had no plan for her future. All she knew was that that fall she would be attending Bennington College in Vermont, and hopefully she would figure it out from there. She knew wherever she went James would follow and that they would get married and he would take care of her for the rest of her life. Every now and then the question arose as to whether or not Stacy truly love James, and the answer, unfortunately would always be no. James was convenient. He was good looking. Much smaller than she was, and had a bright future ahead of him. There were many words to describe Stacy and James's relationship, the most commonly used being "pussywhipped". Stacy had heard the term used to describe James hundreds of times, but it didn't concern her. Stacy liked the fact that she could do whatever she wanted and James would never think less of her. She could yank him around and flirt and he would never break up with her. It didn't much concern her that her future was so uncertain. She didn't care that once she heard her name called the rest of her life was up to her. It didn't frighten her that in a month she would be leaving her home for a small apartment in Vermont, because there was one thing that was for certain. James would always take care of her.

James Hart was one of the only boys graduating for Herbert Hoover High School that could truly say he was in love. He had no doubt that he and Stacy Jourdan would be together forever. He'd gone over the plans for their wedding hundreds of times in his head. He'd planned his future entirely around hers. She applied to Bennington, so he gave up his first choice school, NYU, to attend Bennington with her. James's talents were far-reaching. He had obtained straight A's for all of his years of High School and had taken some of the most demanding courses offered. He played the trombone in a professional orchestra, and occasionally performed in the school plays. James had the whole world ahead of him, but all he really wanted was Stacy. She came first in almost every aspect of his life, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Ethyl Katzinsky was one of the most active teenagers one would ever hope to meet. She was involved in clubs from National Charity League to the Association of Avid Skiers. She was smart, serious, and had a great head for business. There was no doubt that Ethyl's quick wit and persuasive arguments would make her one of the most well paid lawyers in all of New Jersey. She was going to Harvard and she intended to take full advantage of the experience. Her friends knew they when she pulled her long blonde hair back into a bun that she was thinking hard. They knew that when she heard a story on the news about the downtrodden youth, racial segregation, or the less fortunate her heart would break. If Ethyl could crusade for every cause she would. If Ethyl could save every person from ill-treatment she would do it in a heartbeat, but try as she might, Ethyl Katzinsky was only human. And as good of a person she was, once she took her diploma and left the world of High School forever she too would be subject to the injustice and hardships of life in the real world.

Morgan McDermott was the quietest of the seven friends. She had no real talents or testaments to her name. She would be attending community college in hopes to become a beautician at the hair salon her mother owned. Maybe one day Morgan would get married, but she'd never had a boyfriend before. Morgan could often be found sitting a few feet outside of circle of friends, reading a fantasy novel or listening quietly. Whenever asked her opinion on anything she would just shrug her shoulders and smile, afraid that what she had to say might be considered stupid by the rest of her more intelligent friends. She followed the group from place to place, but never really felt apart of anything they did. Graduation to her meant only one thing, the few friends that she did have throughout high school were now going to be scattered all over the country and they would probably forget all about her.

Seven friends received their diploma that fateful June evening. Seven friends attended after parties, took pictures, and vowed to keep in touch. Three months after that only Morgan remained in their hometown of New Brunswick New Jersey. Slowly they made new friends, and lost contact. Relationships changed for the worst and twenty years later, when their fortunes had all been made, most of them had forgotten the friendships that had gotten them through the most troubled times in their lives