Twelve: Apologies, Willa Maureen, and Wanting Motherhood

   "Thanks for coming over."

   "No problem." I smiled, hoping Harrison's mood was so cheery that even my dreadful, guilty secret couldn't ruin it. I asked if I could come over under the guise of concern. I'm still filming in New Orleans and Katie was heavily pregnant, surely she shouldn't be moving heavy nursery furniture! Let me help, it's the least I could do. "So, do you think it's a boy or a girl?" We were decorating the nursery in gender neutral primary colors, since Katie insisted she wanted to be surprised and didn't want to receive a bunch of foolishly gendered products at the baby shower. 

   "I'm not supposed to be speculating, but I think it's a girl."

   "Really? Why?" A niece would be adorable! I could get her a little pink princess dress and a doctor's coat and a batman costume and we could play dress up and Auntie Ronnie would be the coolest aunt ever. 

   "She has the same cravings mom had when she was pregnant with you and..." He trailed off, not mentioning my twin sister. I never thought about her, I didn't consider myself to be a twin, nor did I consider myself to have two siblings. It made me an awful person, probably, but I just couldn't do it. One of my coworkers had a miscarriage and my heart broke for her, but I didn't understand why she said that she was having baby number two, when she got pregnant again. Not that a heart problem was comparable to a miscarriage. Pregnancy and baby talk terrified me; I knew so little, I could offend someone so easily. 

   "What would you name her?" I quickly changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the thoughts of death for long. 

   "We were thinking Willa Maureen if she's a girl or Theo Augustus if he's a boy."

   "Cute. Unique." He shrugged, as if to suggest the names weren't that outlandish. "I, um... Harrison, I have something to confess."

   "What?" Worry molded him face into one of wrinkles and apprehension. 

   "It's nothing terrible, just... I-" How could I delicately phrase this? We'd just kissed, but still. "Had relations with Avery." Had relations with? Who the fuck, was I  Bill Clinton? Why did I phrase it like that? 

   "Relations?" He raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

   "I'm sorry! Look, she's bi and we were drunk and we just... We kissed! And you're the one who suggested I take her out for a girls' night! And, and it's been killing me keeping it from you, but I'm not telling you to be judged! I'm sorry. It hasn't happened again, I just wanted you to know, because..."

   "Look, Ronnie, it's no big deal. You just kissed, Katie told me how drunk you were... What did you think would happen if you told me? I'd exile you from my life?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're my sister and we all make mistakes."
   "Wait? Seriously?" I'd been fretting for so goddamn long and he was perfectly fine with it?
   "Yeah, now it's like eleven and Katie's already in bed, I think I'm going to hit the sack, too..." He sighed, gesturing towards the twin bed that was going to be Colin's soon. He and Katie had decided to try and fight for partial custody. "It's made up and everything, the bathroom's across the hall... Hell, I'm talking to you like you've never stayed here."

   "Harrison..." I leaned forward, hugging him. "Thank you."
   "For what?"
   "Just... Being a great brother."
   "I couldn't be a great big brother if I didn't have such a great little sister."
   "Stop, you're making me blush." I playfully swatted at him. He paused, glancing towards the door.
   "Do you hear that?"
   "Hear wha-"
   "AAHH!" A yelp interpreted my question.
   "Katie!" He screamed, bolting out of the nursery, towards the master bedroom.

   Everything turned into a blur, Harrison was rushing Katie to the hospital, I was catching a cab and calling mom and Avery. I walked around the waiting room, anxiously waiting as news, as Harrison occasionally popped in, telling me things I didn't want to know about my sister-in-law's vagina. Five, six, six and a half, seven, eight, nine, then ten centimeters dilated. She'd be being told to push, push, push! And breath. Remember to breath. I once played a character that went into labor. I had to fake I couldn't imagine the treachery of childbirth. When I was in that role, I decided I would never go through that in real life, but as Harrison burst into the waiting room, his face elated as he announced that Katie had a smooth and relatively pain free delivery -- thanks to the epidural -- I felt a shift in my heart. I wanted a child. I didn't think I ever would, but as I walked into the hospital room, seeing Katie holding my niece, her and Harrison's daughter, the brilliantly beautiful Willa Maureen, I felt my heart aching for someone to love and care for. Someone who could teach me things I'd never dreamed of learning, someone who I could nurture and teach things to. I wanted a baby. I wanted motherhood.

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Seven: A Spark

   It was Harrison's twenty-second birthday and his fiance and I were throwing him a surprise party in the local uni's coffee shop, since I was too young to go to a bar. I was still shocked that Katie was going to be my sister-in-law. A few months ago, I was teasing him about Lyla, now he was engaged to a business major. They'd explained how they met, an adorable story with hot tea and Chinese food, and I could tell by the way he looked at her that she was his entire world and their engagement wasn't some lust fueled catastrophe. It was odd, I'd never dated anyone, since my parents hadn't exactly allowed me to have an active social life. Even if they had, I wasn't attracted to any guys in high school, and quite frankly I didn't really want to date any guy.
    "Hey, Katie, I'm gonna run to the restroom real quick, okay?" I'd drunk too much coffee, and I wanted to text my parents the exciting news. This morning I'd found out that I'd been cast to play a mother in a new CBS sitcom about a nineteen year old who became pregnant after a mix up at the OBGYN. The casting director had seen my movie somehow and she loved it so much, she'd requested the studio offer me the role immediately.
   "Sure!" She smiled brightly, as she arranged the balloons. I turned, walking into the bathrooms. I was greeted by muffled sobs. I glanced around, seeing a pair of feet in a stall. We were the only two people in the room.

   "Hi, um, I just... I was gonna go pee, but uh... Are you okay? I can go find another bathroom?"
   "N-o, it's okay." Her voice cracked with agony, as I slowly walked closer.
   "Do you want to talk? I... I know it's weird to pour your soul out to a stranger, but I don't mind." Why did I say pour your soul out? I wasn't a poet and it sounded peculiar as hell. She probably thought I was a creep.
   She slowly opened the stall. Her ginger hair was cascading down her face, covering her supple lips, her tear stained cheeks shown in the light, as she looked at me with awe. Something about her looked familiar... Beautiful and familiar. "I, damn, look I just..."
   "Feeling vulnerable?" She nodded.

   "You... Do I know you? You... You sound, you look familiar."
   "I don't know, maybe? I'm Veronica Colton."

   "Colton? Like Harrison? Fuck, he mentioned having a sister... I'm sure you think I'm a terrible person... I flirted with your brother, hell, I flirted with a ton guys, yet I've never dated a guy. I guess... Maybe if I had liked them, I wouldn't be in this situation."
   "Wait, wait are you Lyla? And what situation?" Harrison had said she dyed her hair crazy colors, I suppose maybe red was her natural color. Red hair, gray eyes, and something that made me want to help her and talk to her and get to know her... A spark or confusion and appeal and attraction and vulnerability that made me want to do something, anything with her.
   "I'm..." She paused, wiping away a few tears. "I'm, I dunno, I'm not a sure open person, which is a shit characteristic for a future therapist, but... God, I just want someone to talk to."
   "You can, I mean if you're comfortable around me."
   "Okay, okay... I need to quit bawling like a baby. I guess... The situation. How much do you know about your brother and I? We were never a thing, really, we shared lab space and occasionally grabbed drinks or a snack or something. One time I invited him over, because I was trying to plan a Star Wars viewing party and he's one of, like, the five people I know. Did your brother ever mention a Star Wars marathon?"
   "Yeah, I think so." Wasn't it supposed to happen on the day he met Katie?
   "Well, I canceled it, my roommate, her boyfriend, and I were having a fight... I think I told him some lie about, I don't remember. I just couldn't deal with any guys." She took a deep breath, before leaning against me. "I haven't really told anyone this, but... I don't... I'm a" She looked straight at me, her eyes were stormy skies dancing before a hail storm... I leaned forward and-

   We were inches from one another, I could feel her body heat and spell her sweet perfume. "Can I kiss you?" I asked, as she nodded, closing the gap between us.

   "Lesbian. I'm a lesbian." She said, once we pulled away from one another.
   "I... I... I might... I, yeah." I was incoherent, absolutely speechless. I've never been attracted to boys and kissing her felt so right. Could I kiss her again? Taste her vanilla chapstick, feel the electric sparks pulse through me as our tongues collided?"Am I allowed to call it magical or is that a complete cliche?"
   "You can call it whatever you'd like... I'm sorry if I just came onto you... Fuck! You're... You're not, oh my God, you're a minor. You're a child. I kissed a child."
   "What? No! I consented, I, I turn eighteen in a month, I asked if I could kiss you..." Tears began sliding down her face when I said consent. "Are you? I'm sorry."
   "No, no, don't be sorry... I, consent. That's, that's the situation." She inhaled deeply. "I cancelled the Star Wars thing, because... It was the night before. My... I flirted with my roommate's boyfriend. Or, he thought I did. I don't know. I was drinking, I guess I was drunk, I don't really remember, I just know... My roommate left, to go get the pizza from the lobby. Her boyfriend, he grabbed me and... It was... I was lying on the ground trying to scream and he, forced himself... I lost my virginity... I tried to push him off and fight, but I couldn't, he still..."
   "Lyla." I whispered, staring at her. "I'm so, sorry, I... That's. He's a demon." I wanted to find him, make him pay for what he did.
   "I just found out that he isn't going to be prosecuted..."
   "That's-that's no! What the-? How could-?" How could the world be so cruel? I wanted to kiss the wound and make it better, I wanted to punch her rapist in the throat. She was mourning the loss of justice... We were only three months into the year and Katie was going to be married. Lyla was mourning the loss of justice. I was going to play a teen mom in a television show. One of us was a bride, one of us was a mourner, and one of us was a mother.

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Five: A Mother, A Bride, and A Mourner

Veronica's POV

          Today had been a fairly dull day, I'd returned to campus after visiting mum and dad over the break with Harrison and filming had wrapped for the movie prior to break, so the only thing I had to worry about were classes, which began tomorrow. The community college's classes began before the university's did, so Harrison was staying an extra week at home. Over the break I'd bought lots of athletic wear, since I'd resolved to start working out more. I'd never bothered making a resolution before, though I figured why the hell not this year. Might as well give it a go. The worst that could happen was I ended up quitting it two weeks in, like most people.
          Mum had apologized profusely over the break, she said she didn't realize she was smothering me, she said she didn't realize how much I hated and if I wanted to transfer to the Community College of Allegheny County for the spring semester I could, since the movie had wrapped filming and she promised to not interfere with my living habits, promised to not be a helicopter mother to her seventeen, soon to be eighteen, year old daughter; she wanted a relationship, she wanted to be a friend.
          I declined, simply telling her I was enjoying living with Harrison and Wilson and that it was probably too late to transfer.

          The gym was fairly empty; the semester hadn't formally started and not many students thought, "Hey, you know what'd be fun at 6 am on a frigid January morning? Working out!" Including myself, there were three girls here who, unbeknownst to me, would become close. Right now, we didn't know each other, though we'd heard of each other in passing.

          There was me, the blonde with a bob, running on the treadmill in a white off the shoulder tee and sky blue shorts: Veronica Colton. Seventeen, finishing up high school at the local community college, I starred in one minor motion picture that'd be premiering in June, a month after the semester ended, in Los Angeles. I lived with my brother, Harrison Colton, and his friend Wilson Cameron, who were both pre-med.
           I didn't know what the hell I wanted to do with my life, I loved theater and acting, though I didn't know if that was what I wanted to do with my life.
          To me, Lyla was the girl my brother was mildly infatuated with.
          To me, Katie was the "friend that I grabbed lunch with.", since that's all Harrison told me when I inquired where he got Chinese from, a few months ago.

          Next, there was Katie Dalton, the twenty-two year old raven haired girl running in navy capri yoga pants and a matching sports bra. A golden headband held her hair back like it did everyday; she loved headbands and she loved her hair, proud of her heritage, proud of the discrimination her and her family had overcome.
          Dr. Marget Elise McCormick was the first African-American women to teach at the uni Harrison attended, she lived in her on campus apartment her entire life, becoming affectionately known as Doc McC, professor of American literature. She never married, not that she wanted to, and she never had children, not that she wanted to. She had a fairly large family, she was the eldest of four brothers and a sister, and every summer she'd let a relative, a nephew, niece, some cousin, a brother, an in-law, crash on her sofa. Every summer, she'd gain some idyllic, bucolic trinket, turning her apartment into an eclectic, homely, completely cluttered place.
          The summer after Katie graduated high school, she came to stay with her great aunt McC, since she'd be attending the uni she taught at. She was the last summer guest, for, at the age of eighty seven, she passed, succumb to cancer. The cancer mourned Doc McC, who had left the apartment to whoever lived with her last; Katie inherited a home and with that, she'd inherited the history of the place, every summer you let someone crash on your sofa. Her first summer, she let her cousin Maxwell stay, her second she let her friend Alisha, her third she let her aunt Emmalinne. Now she was a senior, about to graduate with a bachelor's in business administration and a minor in American lit, a homage to her great aunt.
          To her, I was just one of Harrison's, the boy who she'd gone on a few dates with, roommates.
          To her, Lyla was just the noisy next door neighbor whose roommate constantly fought with her boyfriend.

          Lastly, there was Lyla Leviathan, the twenty-one year old with a penchant for hair dye and galaxy print apparel. She flirted since it was fun, her dating history didn't contain ex-boyfriends as much as it did chances she never took and a few one night stands. She was a junior, psych major, and shared lab space with Harrison her fifth semester.
          She never worked out; she thought it was dull, it gave too much time for her mind to wander free and analyze the others in the room. She went into psychology because she was an over thinker, constantly analyzing everything, everyone in the room.
          Or at least, that's what her daddy told her.
          Her daddy told her a lot of things, though. Her daddy told her that she needed to quit thinking and that she needed to be independent, needed to quit crying because her pops wasn't coming back. She had her dad and her pops and they'd lived in Massachusetts, legally wed the minute the law passed in 2004. In 2015, when all states recognized it, Lyla cried, wishing they'd done it sooner. Maybe if they had, pops wouldn't have left, fleeing to Alabama, where he was from. Daddy hadn't followed, he feared the homophobia, the harsh taunts Lyla might face from children in the school yard. He also wanted his marriage recognized. Pops wanted his family, which apparently didn't include his husband and daughter, but did include his racist parents, and to root for Bama.
          To her, Katie was just the girl she occasionally caught a glimpse of in the hallway.
          To her, I was just Harrison's little sister, who she'd never met.

          We were all working out in the gym, the gym that was empty because it was the beginning of the year, but by the beginning of next year, we wouldn't just be working out and we wouldn't be three strangers. We'd know each other and we wouldn't just have our own personal backstories: the girl with helicopter parents, the girl with the professor great aunt, the girl with the fucked up fathers, we'd have new labels, because by next year one of us will have given birth, one of us will have gotten married, and one of us will have lost one of our roommates.
          There's be a mother, a bride, and a mourner.
          We just didn't know who'd be who, yet.

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Three: That Archie Character... Veronica?

Note: Odd chapters are Veronica's perspective, even are Harrison's


   "Shit." I murmured, staring at my hair in the hall mirror. I'd just taken off the bandanna that the on-set stylist had wrapped around my hair, shielding it from the dreary rain that had plagued October. The director said that, based upon a few diary entries and police records, my character had naturally blonde hair, like mine, but died her hair brunette and cut it short after running away and apparently it'd be absolutely impossible to make the movie if I didn't dye and chop off all of my hair. "Who could imagine, stretching reality in a film? The atrocity!" Was what I wanted to retort, however I only nodded, agreeing to attempt to fit his vision. He'd directed several box office hits, including several cliched, somewhat racist, set in the deep south, ultra pro-military romantic films that were adaptations of the equally cliched, somewhat racist, set in the deep south, ultra pro-military romance novels; my mother was hesitant to let me do the film in the first place, if she heard that I was disobeying, despite her promise to try and make amends by being less overbearing, she'd be, to put it the most eloquently way possible: really fucking pissed off.
   No cursing.
   No romance between my character and the Linus character.
   No nudity. Even with a body double.
   No gruesome, bloody, or suicidal scenes.
   Those were the demands that mum had presented the screenwriters and director with and, since she technically was only loaning the rights to the story or whatever and was being given a producer credit and the lead was her daughter, they obliged, other than the last thing. Considering my character's mental state, it was difficult to not include the last one, at least a teeny bit... How could you refer to bloody, gruesome, suicidal things without being offensive? You didn't want to romanticize illnesses, though you didn't want to be crass or triggering.
   "Hey Veronica?"
   "Huh?" I glanced away from my horrid dye job, flinching. My hair was jet black. Not dark brown. Not "coffee with a liberal amount of cream poured into it" like I was told. Onyx, raven, pitch, obsidian, jet, however you wanted to describe it black.
    "Wilson and I are going to this frat party and it seems lonely to leave you here, so, uh- fuck, what's with your hair?" He paused, staring at me. They were going to dye my hair today, cut it tomorrow... Apparently now the plan was to bleach it tomorrow, dye it hopefully a lighter brown, then chop it all off.


   "Stylist screwed it up."
   "I-I... Looks good. Do you wanna go to the Halloween party with us? It's in, like, an hour." I had an essay to write for US history, something about the French and Indian War, and an art assignment that I probably should finish before we started filming my brunette part of the movie, though I could easily do that them between scenes on set.
   "Sure. Is it a costume party?"
   "Yeah, but... You're my littler sister and you're underage, so-"
   "Preferably nothing slutty that would put you in an awkward position and have to threaten some drunk frat boy for staring at your sister and scream 'if you think a short skirt is consent I'll kick your ass to Montana'?"

   "That was one frat party." His cheeks flushed bright pink, as Wilson came out from the kitchen.
   "The Alpha Alpha Delta?" He asked, attempting to suppress a laugh. "Dude, you were hammered."
   "You know, you're the only person I know that goes into feminist rant mode when they're drunk." Wilson teased.
   "Better then angry or racist rant mode, besides shouldn't every be a feminist?"
   "Hell yeah." Wilson and I said in unison, before I turned to face him. His hair was in dreads and he was dressed in a yellow t shirt and flared jeans.

   "Who are you dressed as?"
    "Either Bob Marley without the beanie or that white guy who thinks that, by telling him cultural appropriation is wrong, we're being racist and oppressing his rights."
    "Okay, so reggae singer or ignorant asshole who doesn't have the word prejudice in his vocabulary and lacks a basic understanding of the Civil Rights movement and racism in America and..." Harrison was dressed in a white lab coat and navy slacks. "Too lazy to change out of his lab uniform?"
   "Doctor."
   "Lemme guess, you're..." Wilson stared at me. I was dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and capri yoga pants , my hair was messed up, and my face was bare of makeup. "A D-list celeb who got caught leaving the gym?"
    "Close. An unfamous far as from celebrity as humanly possible who just returned home after suffering from a bad dye job."
    "I have to say, A for originality." He chuckled. "Don't you agree Harrison?"
   "A for effort."
   "Guys, I need a real costume. Like, I have a blue dress... But I can't be Alice. I have a plaid skirt and a sweater crop top, knee highs, and Mary Janes so I could be Rachel, or there's always red leggings and a black tank top, so Buffy, but... Dammit, why are all the easy characters blonde?"
   "You  could be the queen of hearts."
   "Or Monica." Harrison offered.

   "Or Drusilla."
   "Or, dammit. That comic series we studied in that pop culture class, what was it, Harrison?"
   "I dunno, I didn't take that, I got my social history credit through that women's studies class, because, ya know."
   "Lyla?"
   "Yeah, Lyla." Lyla? Harrison hadn't mentioned a girl, he hadn't had a serious girlfriend, to my knowledge, nor did he ever mention going on dates or anything. Mum always joked about how handsome he was, so surely there must be somebody, male, female, bigender, agender, or whatever, but surely somebody. I didn't really give a damn about Harrison's love life and I didn't really want details, so I didn't pry, however I was curious.
   "Superhero? No, not Marvel or DC..." By the time I reemerged int he conversation, they'd moved back to trying to figure out which comic character I could be. "Oh, I know! I got it. Archie. That Archie character... Veronica?"
   "Yeah?" I looked at Wilson, a bit perplexed. I didn't read Archie, it wasn't like I'd know.
   "No, no, her name's Veronica, like yours. How perfect is that? You just need, like, a red top and blue skirt adn with your hair you'd be the perfect Veronica Lodge."
   "That'd work." I was honestly indifferent towards what I went as, I had yet to officially drink alcohol and I hadn't made out with any annoying philosophy majors or guys who considered beer pong a sport, so my college party experience was rather tame. "Thanks."  I hurried up to my room, opening up my closet. Red top, blue skirt. I threw on and a a mini skirt and one shoulder tie blouse, slipping into some simple black pumps. I quickly applied some red lipstick, cat eyeliner, and pressed powder. I stared at myself in the mirror. Not perfect, but sufficient for a Halloween costume. Sufficient worked.

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One: Veronica Like Mars

 Note: Odd chapters are Veronica's perspective, even are Harrison's

   "No, mum, I- No, I- Trust me, I-" I sighed, standing on the porch of the two story, three bedroom, mostly furnished apartment that was five minutes from the community college campus, where I'd be attending classes that were a bike ride and an Imagine Dragons' song away from the university where Wilson and Harrison were enrolled in the premedical program.
   "Darling, I..." She paused, as I stared at the foggy Saturday morning landscape. Harrison had been living in the house with Wilson since early August, since they were both doing projects that required them to be close to campus over the summer, I'd moved in on the first of September, since the community college's classes weren't technically starting until the second week of the month and filming for With Love didn't start until October. "I'm sorry. I, I... I know I smothered you a bit as a child and, I'm sorry."

   "Mum, it's..." I trailed off. It wasn't okay that the only way I'd been able to have some bloody freedom was to move away, it wasn't okay that I'd be constantly living in the shadow of someone who never lived. I wasn't going to tell her that it was okay, that I truly hadn't minded any of her parenting, when I had. "Thank you, for apologizing."
   "I love you."
   "Love you."
   "Be safe, and remember what your father told you."
   "No drinking and tell any boys that I'm a minor and my father's been to prison multiple times and doesn't mind going back?" Mum had been reluctant to see me go, she'd bawled her eyes out for days when Harrison and I had announced our plan, she was hesitant to let me be in a movie about grandma's life, since she'd read the script and the letters and knew that the story by heart.
   Dad had reacted a bit better, he was sad, though he seemed to understand the wanting to be away from your parents. He dealt with his apparent sadness by giving me lots of fatherly and unsolicited advice, such as: "Make sure you have enough underwear and socks to last you an entire month. You can wear jeans, sweats, and shirts multiple times, you can't do that with underwear or socks." and "If any boy fucks with my little girl, I swear to God I'm going back to jail, only this time I won't be the person escorting the person into their cell."
   "Yes. I..." She trailed off, as if trying how to figure out how the hell to finish the last full conversation she'd have with her daughter until Thanksgiving or Christmas. "Bye."
   "Bye." I hung up, staring at the misty morning. I suppose I was suppose to be filled with some philosophical feeling of nostalgia, my childhood was technically over, I was turning over a new leaf, I'd left the nest, all those shitty metaphors, though I didn't. It just felt right. I wandered inside, grabbing a root beer from the fridge and throwing myself onto the sofa. "So I'm a college student..." A community college student who was technically finishing her high school diploma, since she didn't qualify for early graduation, though still a college student nonetheless. I stared at the water stained ceiling, sipping my soda, until I heard the front door creak. "Hey, Harri-" I paused, sitting up, staring at the handsome raven haired man in the red t-shirt you wasn't my brother. "Wilson?"
    "Yeah... Vivienne?"
    "It's Veronica." I stood up, sticking out my hand for him to shake, like my ever so polite British father and clingy mum had taught me to. Wilson ignored my gesture, so I instead picked up my bottle from the side table and took a drink, wishing root wasn't in the name.
   "Like Mars?"
   "Yeah." I nodded. "Like Mars."
   "Sorry, for not remembering your name, Harrison mentioned something about you moving in today, I thought I'd swing by, see if you need anything."
   "It's fine and think I'm okay." Harrison had helped me move most of my things in, I hadn't bothered unpacking any of the boxes, though I didn't need help hanging curtains or posters or assembling my IKEA desk chair.
   "It wouldn't be a problem."
    "Er, my bed... It's in this really awkward position and it's blocking the vent, could you help me move it?" He agreed and within a few minutes, my furniture was in its proper place, he then offered to help me unpack and I agreed.

   "Thanks for helping."
   "No problem." He shrugged, playfully smiling. "I figured since we're going to be roommates for at least a year, might as well bother being nice towards one another."
    "True."
    "So, if you don't mind me asking, what type of rules has Harrison tried to enforce on you?"
    "Rules?" My parents had plenty and Harrison halfheartedly supported them when they were around, when they weren't he was pretty lenient when it came to most things. "No coming home smashed, I guess. He said he did a shit ton of research so he may not be home at conventional hours."
    "Mmkay."
    "Why?"
    "He fucking loves pretending to be pristine, but after like two shots he's an animal; he's such a lightweight and has no fucking authority to tell anyone about drinking... Er... Not that I'm recommending it to his seventeen year old sister." He paused, realizing that he may have just inadvertently encourage a minor to drink.
    "Really?" I snorted, ignoring his babbling about underage drinking and how he was premed and all the shit alcohol did to you. "Two shots?" I knew nothing about alcohol, though that seemed proportionate to what most high schoolers downed when they bad too much for a terrible fake ID and snuck into bars that didn't give a damn.
    "So what are you taking at the community college?"
    "English lit, Civil War history, college algebra, the basics." I shrugged.
    "I took some classes over the summer, if you need any help."
    "What in?"
    "It'd be easier to show you"
    "Alright." He led me out of my room, into the hallway that was cluttered with an easel and paint splattered rug and Costco sized crates of ramen and beer that hadn't been moved to the pantry.
    "I took art 100, the 2D and color foundations design course." He gestured to some sketches pinned to the cork board.

ART 100 - 2D Design & Color Foundations

ART 100 - 2D Design & Color Foundations

   "Jesus Christ, these are gorgeous." Sweeping charcoal lines, the shading, the delicate outline of the human body, and the sharp, yet delicate angles of a woman's face; the drawings that were pinned to the cork board were wonderful, I liked doodling in notebooks, though I wasn't nearly as skilled as him.
   "Thanks." His cheeks seemed to flush. He tended to bounce from nonchalant openness to distant discomposure, as he shuffled his feet. "You'll probably do the same assignments, if you have the class."
   "I think I do, I signed up for theater and art."
   "Well, if you need any help let me know."
   "I will." With that, I returned to the my room and Wilson went into his. Freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted, a film that would begin filming in October, I'd already received the script and we were having a reading next week, and Wilson... How lovely this school year would be.


Two things:
1. I'm sorry it took me ten years (or three months... two months? four? eh, it doesn't matter, I mean, time is relative #StuffYouLearnInPhysics) to publish anything and the thing that I did publish is high-school-English-essay-that-someone-did-the-night-before or amateur-tumblr-smutty-fanfic shitty, I could easily blame it on my August stuff, though in reality I've been rather anxious and overwhelmed and this led to me procrastinating instead of, well, actually doing the productivity thing. I'd promise you something, though I'd feel guilty as hell if I didn't follow through, though I won't, I'm simply going to say that I'm trying, which may not mean shit, but I am. 
2. I'm going to be narrating generation two from Veronica+Harrison's POV, right now odd chapters will be Veronica's and evens are Harrison's. If you forget, all the chapter titles will be somehow incorporate their name.
xx,
Jill

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