(Wifi by D.R.A.M. ft Erykah Badu)

| 7. | americans and utopian dystopias.

Pricilla had been serious about hanging out later and I was both surprised and weary about it. My family wasn't the most normal nor did we have the same kind of upbringing I was sure and there was so much that I wasn't looking forward to her finding out about me. But she'd been at this school for weeks now, she didn't seem to shy away even when I was pretty sure she'd been told about me.

"So, do you wanna go home first or...?" That was the first thing I'd asked her when she'd caught me after the bell rang, apparently for the short while she'd been in America, she'd been alternating between walking home and her stepmother picking her up.

That day was a walking day and honestly, I didn't understand why she''d choose to walk when there was a bus... maybe she didn't know the correct bus to get on yet.

"Or." Her voice was soft but there was a laugh in it, she'd trailed beside me in platform sneakers that made her nearly match my height and she paid no mind to the kids staring on. I could feel their eyes on us, ever since she'd started to sit with me in ceramics and at lunch, people had started to stare more than they had in a while. Maybe it had to do with her being so attractive but I hadn't felt this many eyes on me in a while, not since excluding myself from a social life and befriending people that I rarely saw outside of school.

But Pricilla hadn't answered my question, or maybe she had and that had me confused as we stood on the curb, her setting her bag down, rolling a penny board -that she'd somehow fit in her locker- underneath her foot and I'd turned to catch her eyes on a crowd of students piling into the bus. "Huh?"

"You asked if I wanted to go home first or and then you trailed off." She shrugged, her eyes never flitting my way but her voice stayed cool, "I'm not interested in going home first."

"Oh." Her response was still a bit weird to me although I let it go, trying to keep up conversation as we waited for Oliver to pull in from God knows where. He'd been trying to get alone time and a word with me since I'd brushed him off after coming home late one night and I really wasn't looking forward to the awkward car ride but it was better than the murmurs we'd most-certainly get sitting next to one another in a tightly cramped space with other teenagers. "Well, will your parents have a problem with it?"

Honestly, I hadn't cared, it wasn't even my idea to hang out. I was in no way responsible for her getting home but I hadn't told her no and she was now coming over mine, maybe that was a mistake.

She'd shaken her head, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, the wind was blowing, it rippling through the air and chilling my skin. I had half a mind to light the cigarette in my pocket, it was my second to last and I didnt have the money for a new pack. "I used to spend all my days at the parks back home. Sherrie's a little worried because its America, Americans can be..."

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I filled in for her exactly what I thought of the 'best country in the world.' "Insane? Bigoted? The worst human beings alive?"She wouldn't be wrong, especially compared to what she'd proven of Canadians, the nice fucks.

"Something like that."

"Well, my family's only one of those so you're in luck."

Despite all that we were, horrible people, my mother wasn't one of them. I'd like to say Clara Remmer represented our little family since she was the only one that really put in any effort. Or, at least, consecutive non-stop effort for as long as I could remember.

"I'm guessing it's the insane part? Because anything besides that means I'm going home on a big yellow bus with a few dozen other worst human beings alive." Pricilla's voice was joking even if she'd looked over and locked eyes with me; the corner of her heart-shaped lips had quirked up, long hair brushing past her face as she'd turned towards the wind and her inky locks had grazed her Cupid's bow ever so slightly.

Leaning in closer, I didn't take my eyes off of hers, licking my lips absentmindedly. Maybe I could scare her off, put whatever fascination she had with me to rest, make her leave before she realized how shitty I was for herself. "We're all pretty crazy, guess it comes with the last name." Maybe that was a warning, I hadn't had a chance to go deeper into thought, not when the remaining kids waiting for rides -mostly underclasses- had sparked up a conversation in exaggerated whispers.

"That's Oliver Remmer?"

"Oliver Remmer?" There had been a few kids who hadn't heard the tales of the great Oliver Remmer, oh how I wished I could be one of them. But there was no running from who you were, as Hemmingway once said, ever so earnestly and I wondered when exactly my brother would learn that lesson.

And voices were yelling estranged hushes but underneath all of that, I could hear the same rumor that had plagued him in his senior year, "Yeah my brother went to school with him, I heard he killed a guy."

"I heard he killed three."

"Is that your brother?"

Reluctantly, I'd nodded, she would be done now. No more worries about starting a friendship, no more would I have to anticipate when she would realize that she was playing with fire. I incinerated everyone in my path and she would be no exception. Was it sad to say I was relieved?

Relief took many forms however, relief took residence in her eyes as she stepped off the curb with a, "Cool." And she was picking up her penny board, holding it underneath her arm, a backpack slung over her broad shoulder. I was ready for her to turn the other way when she'd started advancing towards his car, her lean legs stretching forward and she'd barely looked back.

With her hand on the backseat-door handle did she turn to me, a confused smile on her face and I briefly contemplated her being deaf in one ear or some other distortion in her hearing that prevented her from taking in the conversation around us. Was this how Emerson had been the first time she'd talked to my brother? "You comin' or what?"

Quickly shutting the thought down, I ignored the voices lingering in the air, watching as she opened the door and her shoes provided the right lift to just slip her things in, holding onto the handle and anchoring herself up. Only then did I step off the curb as well, joining her by the rolling jail cell and sitting in the bench seat, setting my bag between me and the driver.

"How was school?" Oliver wasn't good at picking up hints, not when I'd stayed silent for the longest five minutes of my life as he refused to move the car. He was persistent but honestly, so was I and I had no intention on answering him. Thumbing through the side-pocket, I'd pulled out a few stray quarters, hoping to see if I could find enough for at least two loose cigarettes.

And we sat stationary, Pricilla whistled -almost like a dropping bomb without the crash at the end- and the man beside me reveled in the awkward silence. School was boring just as it always was, nothing eventful so when he asked it was a mixture of that and the fact that answering anything Oliver asked me was annoying, I'd kept my mouth shut and threw a shrug his way.

"Who's your friend?" He'd asked, almost as if I'd have any reason to talk to him now, he thought I'd be polite in the face of company but fuck changing how I felt about him the light. I didn't care how it made him look. "I'm Oliver."

She hadn't even hitched with my lack of response, I couldn't even feel her sparing me a glance or any wavering in her tone. She wasn't afraid of him at all and it showed when she leant forward to take the hand he'd held out in greeting. "Pricilla." Looking over, I could see her smiling all innocently as if she wasn't merging two worlds together, now he'd never let it go.

"That's pretty."

"Thank you." Leaning back in her seat, I could hear the click of her seatbelt and Oliver had settled in himself, "It's nice to meet you." I'd gripped my cigarettes in my palm, I could wait another twenty or so minutes to smoke, maybe I'd swing by the park with Pricilla, help her out with her book without letting her in on any more of me.

"She has manners."

Rolling my eyes at the jab, I threw one back to my smug brother. He had a slight quirk in his otherwise monotone cadence and I had no interest on hearing more of it. "She doesn't know you."

Turning the keys in the ignition, he'd restarted the car, pulling out of the parking lot as if he hadn't just held us hostage. We made our way home, the Canadian girl's headphones not loud enough to drown out the judgmental silence.

• • •

Due to the fact that she deemed it way too hot to sit in the park and work, I'd had to bring Pricilla into my house. And due to the fact that I hadn't changed my sheets since Morgan's unexpected visit the night before, I didn't find it respectful to bring Pricilla into my room. The sheets were probably a mix of both our sweat and I was sure my room smelled like unchanged bong water, she'd leant me her Ciroc bong as a gift for making good on my promise of a good night.

I didn't have any weed to put in it and I was fairly certain the owner wouldn't appreciate me smoking tobacco through it so it sat under my bed collecting dust, waiting for her next visit since I wasn't dumb enough to tell her I was too broke for a dime bag.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I wasn't sure what Pricilla meant as I hadn't thought id been looking at her any certain kind of way but when she'd looked up from her book and I'd realized I didn't have to move an inch to look into her eyes, I understood. I'd been staring at her twenty minutes into us sitting on my couch, she'd already made herself at home.

Maybe I'd been staring because she'd adjusted to me fairly quickly and it was weird. There was something weird about how we'd known each other for only a few weeks and she was already at my house. I'd known Ian and Colin for way longer and only over the summer had I been inviting them over -or they'd decide that their houses weren't suitable and they could smoke out my room- and it wasn't very frequent. It was already weird enough to sit in my living room as I rarely did that but the fact that she was sitting beside me in my living room and comfortable...

The last few seconds on school premises echoed through my head.

"I know you heard what everyone said about him." It came out of my mouth before I'd even decided that I wanted to talk and it must've been what she was expecting because she hadn't even spared me a glance.

"Yeah," she'd replied, almost like a question, flipping the page on the notebook that sat on her thighs. Her sock-clad feet were pushed into my couch cushion, her back leaning on the arm and her hair was up in a ponytail on the very top of her head.

There didn't seem to be much she was fazed by and I wasn't sure if it were a Canadian thing or a Pricilla thing but she was way too easygoing. "And you still came over." Way too trusting and if I lived up to how my reputation preceded me, she would've made a huge mistake.

Sighing almost as if this conversation was boring her, she'd flickered her brown eyes up to meet mine and raised a brow, "He would be incarcerated if he killed three people, I know how to use my context clues." Shrugging, she'd looked back down at her notebook and shuffled closer to me, dropping her legs and crossing them. "Plus, if I don't get this narrative done and turned in tomorrow, my father will kill me."

"Strict?"

"He means well." With a frown, she'd crossed out whatever she'd been writing all this time, free fingers curling around her necklace yet again. She seemed to find comfort in that, I'd often see her doing it every time there was something she didn't really find ease in talking about. Briefly, I had considered asking about it but then again, it wasn't any of my business. I wasn't interested in getting too personal with her.

So getting back to why we were here, I'd held out my hand, "Let me see." And when she'd reluctantly placed the notebook in my hand, I had to stop myself from smiling at her little drawings in the margins. Reading over it, I'd dodged the miscellaneous words that had been scratched out, apparently the teacher wanted it hand-written instead of typed, something Pricilla didn't seem to be too fond of.

When I'd gotten past the first page, I'd realized that she wasn't the type of writer I'd expected. It was only the first chapter, I'd taken creative writing as an elective in freshman year and the first semester, they'd work on and off on creating one book. Pricilla's first chapter wasn't capturing anything the first chapter of a story should.

Her story wasn't a love story, or at least it didn't seem that way, it was sci-fi and the more I read it, the more I could definitely start to see who she was in it. It was a story about rebellion, how a corrupt government was taking over and it gave a sort of Harrison Bergeron feel without the actual chains, she'd taken the concept and developed it into the idea being enforced first in schools and then the world. Still, I'd asked, "What story are you trying to tell?"

And as expected, she grimaced, "I don't know."

There were plot-holes, a few characters were underdeveloped. She was a great writer but dissecting it as an English teacher, her narrative was at C-level, great concept but it lacked in depth.

"Well, I like the characters of Uriah and Lou, I like the setting, it gives an eerie feeling that I'm wary about what comes next and anticipating... but there's no set foundation for Jo."

And when she hesitantly nodded, I tried to elaborate.

"Yes, there's a dystopian society and people react differently to change but why is she not as opposed to the new world order?" I'd asked, turning in my seat to set her notebook on the table, "Does something in her past lead up to it, is she trying to escape something?"

She seemed to think, biting on the end of her pen and she'd thrown out a few ideas but none of them really seemed to stick. Her lips had ended up pursed, eyes unfocused as she looked around my house as if looking for inspiration and then after a few tries, she'd sat up, grabbing at her notebook and flipping to a free page.

It took a few minutes for her to look up, minutes of her biting at her finger, writing, stopping, scratching out what she'd previously written before rewriting. There was something so intriguing about the way she worked, almost as if I could see the gears turning inside her head and she'd straightened up after a bit, pulling her shirt collar before letting her hair down and retying it up.

She seemed nervous of my input and it was another side to her I hadn't expected. "What if... she's convinced that it's a utopia?" Was all she'd said before passing over the few paragraphs she'd written, eyes lingering on the side of my head.

With her blue eyes blown wide, taking in the supposed catastrophe that Uriah had frantically alluded to, Joanna was immersed in shock as she stood in the aftermath. The once defining traits that sat on her neighbors' doorsteps were gone, almost as if they'd never existed. Every wind-chime, garden gnome, all of the patio furniture that once made the mundane neighborhood alive with originality had suddenly disappeared. Like Trojans, the government had seized the public, gaining trust with fastidious decrees and promises of better living before plucking away every ounce of individuality and dissipating it.

And the pale-parsnip cloths that had adorned her body looked eerily similar to her neighbor's, the jumpsuit replacing the sophisticated suit he'd once worn. Almost as if a light had flickered in the forest, a sign of a rebirthing once natural deforestation had taken place, the suburb seemed alight with a new energy that she herself could only see.

Bright smile gracing her face that once had seemed so inferior, she'd reveled in the re-genesis.

Throughout the errors and the sentences that might've struck as a bit wordy, I'd nodded, thinking of the placement in what she'd already written. "She's the only one who sees beauty behind the dehumanization." And I wondered how reflective it was of my own life, watching destruction in a world that begged for conformation. "I like it."

• • •

At some point, we'd ended up finishing her first chapter... or at least, she'd decided that it was good enough and she was tired of writing at that point in time. She'd put her notebook away and we'd been just sitting in my living room getting to know each other. This was also way out of my comfort zone, letting her know anything about who I was. I never intended on letting anyone else in but when she'd asked if I had anything to drink and we'd rummaged through my kitchen together grabbing my high-snacks, it felt only natural.

I'd furrowed my brows at her recent statement, she was talking about an ex of hers that was overbearing and when I'd heard 'she' in reference, I couldn't stop myself from asking, "so, you're a lesbian?"

"No, I'm bi." I wasn't sure why I'd sighed in relief of that but part of me started to think of her in less clothing, and then with Morgan or maybe Mackenzie. That had to be the hottest ten seconds of my life before I'd felt a chip peg me in the forehead, "and no you can't watch me make out with a girl."

Blinking a few times, I watched as she laughed, by then her legs were stretched over my lap and she was leaning against the arm of the chair, her hair let down and there was a smile on her face. She'd been digging through my Doritos, placing a few in her mouth as if she hadn't just hit me with one. Plucking one from the bag, I tossed it at her forehead in retaliation, "but it's hot."

At the look she'd given me, I backtracked and I wasn't sure why I was smiling so much but I didn't hate it, "okay, honestly, I think it's cool. I can't blame you, who in their right mind wouldn't be attracted to women?" Long hair, short hair, big boobs, no boobs, girls were fucking hot.

And Pricilla, fuck.

"You think I'm hot?"

Yes. "Maybe." I didn't give too much away, I didn't want her in my bed so quickly, maybe never. There was too much shit I was in, too much that I'd fucked up and I couldn't fuck her up too so I didn't lean closer, like I would have otherwise. I would've flirted further, would've inched closer until she became a blushing mess and waited until she'd followed suit and kissed me.

And God, did I want to kiss her.

But I didn't. I sat still, leant further into my place and allowed her to laugh, "I'll burn you, Pyro."

I wasn't sure what she meant by that but I didn't intend on find out out. "You know you're pretty talented," I'd offered, intending on changing the conversation and it worked fairly quickly as she shook her head in defense. I liked the way she looked down, her lips fighting to inch up. "I'm serious. You skate, you write, you can sing, what else are you good at?"

"Well, I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue." Was she testing me? Yes.

Was I going to fall into that trap? Not intentionally, no. "Bisexuality perks, I'm guessing."

At that, she shook her head, "shut up." And after a few quiet seconds of staring at each other, she'd stood, brushing imaginary crumbs off of herself, "I've gotta head home." Grabbing at her bag, I watched as she went to organize the mess we'd made and I sat up, folding chip bags and taking cups to the sink.

She'd been helping, us both carrying things and once we'd put it all away, I'd check the time on my phone. Parker had texted me, so had Mack but there wasn't urgency in what either had said, there was a job if I wanted it and an apology for Ian knowing of my coke usage.

But I wasn't planning on talking to Mack anytime soon so with a text for more information to Parker, I'd locked my phone, placing it back in my pocket. Looking up, I caught eyes with Pricilla and offered, "I'll walk you." There was no real intention behind it, just wanting to get out of my head as soon as possible, maybe some fresh air would do me good.

"You mind if I smoke?" I'd asked as we made out way down the steps of my house.

"Go ahead." She'd said, her voice dull.

And she didn't like it, briefly I contemplated not caring, even went as far as to pull the cigarettes out of my pocket but when the moment came to light it, I found myself sticking the box back in. The conversation from that morning played in my head and I tried not to make it obvious.

When we'd gotten to her house in solitude, I watched as she walked up her porch, her turning  to wave on her way in and only then did I turn away, lighting the cigarette in between my fingertips.

Her mom died of cancer and I wasn't gonna be that big of a dick.

A/N:

nothing much to say besides now that open's done, I have a lot of free time. I'm also really trying not to make Pricilla too much like Emersonnnn.

Updated: Thurs, September 6th

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