Howdy, Stranger!
It looks like you're new here. If you want to get involved, click one of these buttons!
Quick Links
Categories
- 965 All Categories
- 17 Games
- 1 aw2-mapbp
- 365 Richland
- SDHSR
- 4 two-detroits
- 96 aw2e-dvfp
- 53 ISS Tsiolkovsky
- 82 Fury
- Urban Shadows
- 24 LadyB
- 11 AnR
- 4 Junk World 2.0
- 68 PnR
- 23 DRYH
- Jeffland
- The Few
- 11 Other
- 11 General
- 576 Complete
- 12 burning-empires
- 8 aota-jam
- 17 Uncharted Worlds
- Uncharted
- 23 nullptr-veil
- 9 ajax-motw
- 2 tqy-am
- 52 NOVA
- 11 Serene Apocalypse
- jenn-soti
- 63 SWAW
- 13 Blades
- 2 Fall Of Magic
- 12 Generations
- 25 LA Monsters
- tqy
- 32 nupocalypse
- 120 Snowpocalypse
- 136 Junkworld XIII
- 27 Big Maul
- 6 ESC
- 1 Murderous Ghosts
- 17 ANN_pilot
[DRYH] Pariah, Pt 01 (03)
Next day at school:
It's fifth period, after lunch. Your morning began with a "talking at" from your dad. He dressed you down as you were trying to get out of the house, literally followed you out the door. He never raised his voice, but he certainly let you know that you will be home right after soccer practice, and if you aren't, and he will be calling home to check, to talk directly to you, then things would be "much worse".
When you showed up at school, you were pulled into the office. Vice Principal Karkeddi informed you that the use of video filmed at the school was expressly against the rules, and that he has your YouTube channel favorited now, and if he sees one piece of material you shot here, then you will be expelled. He dismissed you back to class.
That was before the first bell.
In the hall, people stared at you, some of them talking to each other about you, calling you some sick little perv, some asswipe who had to take pics of girls to get off. One of the chubby freshmen girls came up to you after second period, made a big show of posing for you. She asked you several times, "Can you do a close up, Benny?" Cooed and shook her boobs at you.
Third period was the next round of mockery as the entire football and basketball squads had their phones out, all shooting little movies of you. It became a meme. There are hundreds of videos of you on the phones of your classmates, Benny.
At lunch, you Darius, who stopped talking and stared at you. Stared at you with his buddies staring, too. His big buddies. Everyone stared at you all through lunch, made jokes, whispered, spoke out loud about you, not to you. Maddening.
Except Eileen. She saw you, offered you a seat. Did you sit by her at lunch?
Right now it's AP Math, and after the fourth time of someone making some crack about Big Brother, or about Candid Camera, Mr. Forbish started writing kids up, sending them to the office. Seems like he is either protecting you, or just trying to keep kids focused on advanced trig.
That's when you see her. Bianca. In the hallway. She's watching you, looking like Bianca, with her stark white hair and chalky skin. Still the sad expression.
It's fifth period, after lunch. Your morning began with a "talking at" from your dad. He dressed you down as you were trying to get out of the house, literally followed you out the door. He never raised his voice, but he certainly let you know that you will be home right after soccer practice, and if you aren't, and he will be calling home to check, to talk directly to you, then things would be "much worse".
When you showed up at school, you were pulled into the office. Vice Principal Karkeddi informed you that the use of video filmed at the school was expressly against the rules, and that he has your YouTube channel favorited now, and if he sees one piece of material you shot here, then you will be expelled. He dismissed you back to class.
That was before the first bell.
In the hall, people stared at you, some of them talking to each other about you, calling you some sick little perv, some asswipe who had to take pics of girls to get off. One of the chubby freshmen girls came up to you after second period, made a big show of posing for you. She asked you several times, "Can you do a close up, Benny?" Cooed and shook her boobs at you.
Third period was the next round of mockery as the entire football and basketball squads had their phones out, all shooting little movies of you. It became a meme. There are hundreds of videos of you on the phones of your classmates, Benny.
At lunch, you Darius, who stopped talking and stared at you. Stared at you with his buddies staring, too. His big buddies. Everyone stared at you all through lunch, made jokes, whispered, spoke out loud about you, not to you. Maddening.
Except Eileen. She saw you, offered you a seat. Did you sit by her at lunch?
Right now it's AP Math, and after the fourth time of someone making some crack about Big Brother, or about Candid Camera, Mr. Forbish started writing kids up, sending them to the office. Seems like he is either protecting you, or just trying to keep kids focused on advanced trig.
That's when you see her. Bianca. In the hallway. She's watching you, looking like Bianca, with her stark white hair and chalky skin. Still the sad expression.
Comments
Thank God for Eileen. Yeah, I sit with her, even though that probably means she'll start getting some of my shit. One friendly face in this sea of humiliation is a life preserver.
By the time AP Math rolls around, I could not be lower, even with Eileen's kindness. I don't care why Mr. Forbish is writing kids up, and I'm not even sure whether I'm grateful or wishing that he would just let it ride, not call attention to it.
I look up from whatever trig problem's in front of me and see Bianca in the hallway. Two things happen just about simultaneously. While my heart leaps upward so that I'm almost choked with anxiety, blood flows the other way and I'm suddenly starting to get hard. In AP Math.
You hear someone cough and mumble, "A camera." Classmates around you chuckle.
When you glance back at the door, she isn't there anymore.
Class continues on. Doing anything, or just sitting tight and bearing it?
The bell rings, ending fifth period.
When you head out into the hallway, Janie passes in front of you, sneering like she does. She's wearing her pigtails again, like it's a fashion thing. You hit the hall with the mass of bodies, see that somebody put up pictures of you from lunch, printed them out in black and white. A pic of you and Eileen sitting together. Caption reads: "Newest couple. Hot or not?"
Kids are chanting, "Not hot. Not hot. Not hot." as you pass. Bianca isn't in the hall.
Time for biology class. Darius is in that one. With you.
Shit. Darius. If I had a working phone, I'd Google "How to fake a seizure," but that's not an option. I gotta stick this out. One day at a time, like they say, right? In class thirty seconds before the bell and the only seat left is in the back. Next to Darius. Shit. I sit down.
"Chicken-shit."
Class continues on, and when some of the kids look back and don't see Darius giving you the stink-eye, it's like the joke might be over. People stop messing with you, more or less.
Then, finally, by the grace of the Almighty, the final bells rings. Mrs. Jackson announces homework, and you've got soccer practice. Darius is up and out of his seat, doesn't give you a second glance. Or, maybe he's waiting in the hall?
You've got soccer practice. Heading there?
Bianca's standing in the shade of the metal bleachers, wearing that uniform you saw her in last night. You can see her pretty clearly, but the rest of the team acts like she isn't there. Because you know they would at least be staring at her. Jason would probably go over to talk to her. She's watching you, looking at the door where you came out.
As the team gathers, I look around. Am I beyond the pale with these guys, too?
Robert says, "Yo, the girl was fine. She oughta be thankful. When Benny's some bigshot director, she'll wish she got her fifteen seconds or whatever." He punches your arm playfully.
Coach Waters blows his whistle to get you guys working on drills. Bianca's still standing under the bleachers. She's leaning against the back of one bleacher, peering between the slates with her charcoal black eyes. You get the feeling she's never seen soccer before.
How does practice go for you?
Coach ends practice with wind sprints. The sun is already starting to set by the time you're all huffing and puffing, hands on knees or stretched high and walking in slow circles to regain your breath.
"Hey Scorsese," Jason calls to you, "We're going out for a burger." He indicates Joey and Jaime. "C'mon with us."
I head back in to the locker room, change into civvies, then make straight for home, just like I'm supposed to. Not seeking Bianca out, keeping my eyes on the world around me, focusing on the little everyday things, trying to stay here and not there.
You haven't seen Bianca. Well, maybe you saw her on the other side of the street once, but she was just watching. Looking.
She waits for you to slide in, close the door. The door creaks a little. The inside is clean, but the tape deck has a weird fake casette leading out to an iPod shuffle that Eileen velcroed to the dash. "Your dad needs to get his panties out of a bunch."
The car pulls forward, moving slow, but much faster than you walking. "Did you tell him some bully broke your phone?" She narrows her eyes, giving you her "truth look", then answers for you, "Damnit, Benny! You just took it on the chin, didn't you? C'mon, man. That's not cool."
You stop at a stopsign, only a few blocks away. She uses the break to fiddle with her shuffle, flipping it to one of your favorite songs. Something the two of you enjoyed last summer. What is it?
You see Bianca in the mirror. She's sitting in the back seat, right in the middle. When you glance back, she isn't there. Just in the mirror. Eileen obviously doesn't see her.
"Hey. You said there'd be candy. Where the fuck is my candy?"
"I looked it up." She's not lying.
Do you live in a burb, Benny? Not far from school, right? So I'm guessing upper middle class neighborhood, lots of families, garages, most of the houses look kinda similar. Am I close?
Biance catches your smile, but she doesn't return it. She doesn't look angry or anything, just watching. Reserved. Distant.
I do an impression of Mrs. Barber, our English teacher from last year. "Eileen, just because you can Google something doesn't mean you must Google it. Why not use your powers for good instead of looking up how many calories are in an... M?" Raise my eyebrow like Mrs. Barber does.
There are a bunch of cars parked on your street. Looks like the Andrews are having a dinner party or something. Mostly SUVs and nice imports. Nothing too swanky, but definitely slick cars.
Eileen pulls you into the drive, dropping you off at your house. "Hey man, did you save your SIM? I've got an old flip phone and charger. I could bring it over later."
You hear the click click click of Bianca's shoes behind you. "She is very nice to you." Her tone is polite, not accusatory.
A pause. "Hey, seems like no one but me can see you right now, right? Don't be worried if I don't talk to you when other folks are around. I don't know how I'd explain..."
Then, I'm in the door.
Jeaopardy is on. Your mom is surfing the web while watching. Heather is in your dad's chair, her face lit by her phone as she taps away. Your mom looks up, "Hello dear, how was practice? Food's on the table, still warm."
Bianca says, "I will go to your room. And wait. I want to talk to you." She pads up the stairs to your room.
She made mashed potatoes (instant) and some orange chicken. Along with steamed green beans. Your mom is using up the odds and ends in the fridge before the next shopping trip, it seems.
Tromp tromp tromp up the stairs. Open the door with a free hand, and inside. Putting the plate on the desk, I assume?
Bianca's sitting on your bed. Her skirt is flared out a little, covering the tops of her thighs, but arranged, like flower petals, sort of. She smiles when you come in. "Are they always mean to you, or is this because of Jasmine?"
I think about her question for a sec. I want to be really careful how I answer this. "Sort of, but mostly because of what I did. It's not cool to film someone without them knowing, but I was making 'Art' and thought that made it okay. It was overkill, today at school, but that's just the way things are. Kids see someone weak and poking at that person makes the rest feel stronger."
"So, Mother When didn't punish you for me getting away or anything?"
"I've been expelled." she answers simply.
Seems to me like not having to see that scary woman wouldn't be punishment, but I know there are other things at work here. Bianca doesn't seem too scared, at least.
"Expelled? What does that mean for you? I mean, you... lived there, right? What are you gonna do?"
You ask about her situation and she sits there for a moment, making a face like she's doing trig. After that, she shrugs, "I don't know what it means. Nobody's ever survived being expelled before. They always just... ceased to be."
Bianca looks around your room for a moment, spreads her hands out to put them behind her on the bed and leans back on them, supporting her weight easily, "Can I... stay here? I think you're why I'm still here. I am yours, after all."
Bianca looks down for a moment, waiting for your reaction, listening quietly.
"What will you eat if you stay here?"
"Listen... you can stay here for now. But this... city... isn't your City. Not your home, really, right? And... like, I know we were pretty hot and heavy last night, but I don't want you feeling like you have to... you know. And... y'know the really great directors and actresses? Like the really best matchups? The real creator/muse stuff? Those were partnerships, not ownerships... If we're gonna be... friends... we need to worry less about who belongs to who and more about Art. Or, y'know, whatever."
Bianca looks over when she sees you've finished, "Can I... eat your sister's dreams? I could tell you how they taste, if you want. Or... Eileen's. Maybe she dreams of you?" For some reason, she doesn't touch the ownership stuff. Doesn't deny it, just skips around it.
She pats the bed beside her, carefully pulling her skirt back down from where it had flared out. Probably so you can sit closer.
"Okay. You get hungry, I'll point you toward a buffet, but Eileen, my family? Even the folks that you saw abusing me today, tomorrow, whatever... Only if I say okay."
Her pale white skin suddenly changes hue. It isn't all at once, more like raindrops from a sudden storm patter down and discolor a newspaper.
Within a couple breaths, her hair becomes auburn, her body's proportions shift and alter, then her face takes on a different, familiar look. Still in her black schoolgirl costume, Bianca, the "Not Jasmine" smiles at you. She puts a soft hand over yours, "Would you like to... get hot and heavy some more?"
You sit back at your desk and she remains on the bed, watching. Are you actually going to try and do homework, or do you end up goofing off on the computer, or what?
I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge, crack it open, take a swig, and then sit down at the kitchen table. I'm self-aware enough to know that seventeen is a volatile time (plus, Health Class. Mr. Wantrobski in that nasal voice saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, puberty is a time of great stress for both the body and the emotions. You are a seething stew of hormones and any minute you spend not thinking about sex is something of a miracle...") Somehow Mr. Wantrobski forgot to mention that there's this possibility (small, but apparently non-zero) that you're going to Wake Up one morning without ever having fallen asleep and suddenly everything will be totally Fucked Up.
I just sit there for a few minutes, staring into space, taking a swig off the water every now and then.
She comes around to pull out the seat by you, sits down, facing towards you, but not right at you. "Did you have trouble getting the movies off your phone?"
"It's a little late to vacuum." she starts going through her mental list of To Do's. "Maybe you could pull the fridge out, sweep back there? Then wipe down the baseboards? Your dad's eating out after work, won't be home for a while. We can call that a couple hours' work."
I give Mom a kiss on the forehead, then get to work. Probably an hour and half later, it's done.
Heather comes in, all smiles, giddy really. She waves to your mom and dad, then comes rushing into the kitchen when she sees you. She has this "we need to talk" look, "C'mon downstairs, Ben." You know she's going to ask about your day.
"Heather, I'm fricken beat, so please don't push too much, okay? Jasmine's this girl from the Starbucks. I shot some footage of her and used it in a video without asking permission, and she's apparently dating Darius, and they found out. D wants to beat me to a pulp, and Jasmine was pissed, too, but she decided she decided she liked the way I made her look and came over last night to give me a... chance to explain? We went out to shoot some more footage and she decided she wasn't into after all..."
"So wait... the girl who everyone is giving you shit about all day in class came here last night and shot more video with you? Did you like... really perv on her last night or something?"
She follows you up the stairs, then heads on towards her room. I assume you head to your room, then?
Empty. Nobody in here. Bed looks untouched, like she wasn't sitting there. She didn't move blankets or anything, but still, weird.
What do you do?
She walks through, like the wall doesn't matter to her. Weird how the floor does work for her, though.
"Yes?" her tone is curious, but not eager.
Bianca offers in a quiet but sure tone, "I am not a child, Benny. This place is new, but I have seen it many times in others' dreams. If I am a burden, I can..." She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to. Or maybe she doesn't know what she can...
I look at the screen for a minute. "Bianca, I'm okay with you staying here. I may even have an idea for... but I want to think about it. You're not a burden." Thinking about last night, about Not Jasmine on her knees, the feeling of her mouth, ignoring the other disconcerting things. "And I liked a lot of what we did last night..."
When you assure her she isn't a burden, she relaxes a little, even offers a little smile. Then you mention last night and it grows into a wide grin. She pads over to stand closer to you at the desk. She's close enough for you to smell her. What does she smell like?
Her voice becomes a bit more breathy, "I liked everything we did, Benny. Very much. Better than dreams." She bites her lower lip, looking down for a moment, then offers, "I didn't wear my true face when we... were intimate. But the words I shared weren't a lie. I do love how you captured her. I was so thrilled when you did it, ah, for me. I think you are amazing." She reaches up a cool hand to place it on yours on the desk.
"Bianca? What if we made a movie? Not you as someone else, although the fact that you can look however you want might be part of it, but... you. A movie about the Mad City? You can teach me how to get around... it seems like I'm going to keep going there... and I can shoot you, the City, like a documentary."
She closes her mouth, then answers again more quietly, "Yes, Benny. Very much. I would love this."
I pull out a graph-lined pad, a pen. "What's first? So, tell me about the minute before you noticed me, or... found me, whatever. Then we'll plan the rest." The Flip, inferior tool as it is, gets pulled out. My bag in my off hand. Focusing on Bianca.
"So. What's next. What do we need to film, Bianca? What's the plan?"
You ask what's next, and Bianca looks at you for a moment. "I am hungry. Could I feed, and you film it?"
Apparently, it was written. "Sure, Bianca. Sure." I put the GoPro on my head, heft the Flip, and wait for instructions.
What's the situation in the house? I'm gonna tell Bianca we should wait until everyone's down for the night. Don't want to take the chance that Dad pokes his head in, looking to give me a talking-to again or just checking up.
The dinner party's winding down, it's after ten. A few stragglers, some people doing that "standing around in a little cluster on the sidewalk talking until one person heads to their car and breaks it up" thing.
You see Eileen out on the front porch, smoking. She looks up, right at you. Waves a small flip phone in the air, like "come and get it?" She doesn't seem to notice Bianca is at the window beside you.
But you notice, right? She's moved up behind you, looking out the window, a hand against the small of your back. You feel her hair, which is very soft, against your ear. She's close, seems to enjoy this.
Did you tell Bianca to stay behind?
You walk over to Eileen's house, see her stabbing out her cig and waiting for you to come over. "It's nothing special, Benny. But I charged it up, and it actually has better, you know, voice quality than my HTC. Weird, you know? Things improve, but not all the way. Like... MP3s." She holds up the little flip phone and a Ziploc bag with the charger and the owner's manual in it.
I take the phone and the baggie. "Thanks, Eileen. You're the best... Wish I could sit with you a while, but Dad's still working and he'll be counting the seconds if I don't head right back."
It's obvious she wants some company, for some reason. You get that. But then, your dad.
"I do have to go. See you tomorrow..." For some reason, Eileen and I aren't huggers, so I hold out a fist for bumping, then head back to the house.
Looks like there are three cars parked on the street near the Andrews. Most of the second floor lights are off. It's probably elevn.
Back in the house, past your dad. Your mom's gone to bed a little early, but she's probably reading on her tablet. Up the stairs. The bathroom at the end of the hall has a light on, music playing. Your sister must be showering.
Opening the door to your room, you see Bianca there, sitting on your bed.
"Gin Rummy?"
I sit down next to her on the bed, take her hand, kiss the palm.
"It's just... I think we're gonna be spending a lot of time together, right? And, well... maybe we need to have things to do other than making video and sex."
She asks softly, watching her hand in yours, "I've never experienced a dream about gin rummy. Is it fun?"
After a few hands, you realize she's rather abysmal at "reading you", anticipating your strategy. She mostly bull-rushes ahead to take tricks and doesn't account for anything subtle that you're doing.
You beat her five times in a row. Even if you try to throw a game (do you?), she seems unable to anticipate the right call. She also has awful luck, drawing the worst card at every turn. For the first three hands, she keeps a neutral pose, watching, asking, learning.
By the fifth hand, when she figures out you've won, she puts down her cards and states simply, "This was not nearly as fun as the time on the subway when you put your fingers inside me, Benny." She peers at you curiously, "Why do we need other things to do besides video and sex?"
"I tell you what, Bianca" Kissing her hand again. "One more game. If you win, we'll mess around until it's time for your supper. If I win, we do whatever I want. Bet?"
I clearly want to mess around, but I want to see if a little motivation helps her "get it." I'm trying to understand this girl a little bit.
Success means the game goes the way you want, which you can choose after the roll.
Discipline: (Rolled: 3d6. Rolls: 4, 2, 2. Total: 8)
Exhaustion: (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 4, 4. Total: 8)
Madness: (Rolled: 1d6. Rolls: 1. Total: 1)
Who wins the hand?
Did I learn anything?
Permanent Pool:
Discipline 3
Exhaustion 3
Madness 1
Also, you realize that her knowledge of the real world is shaped through dreams, that she's observant, but her ideas of things like morality, right and wrong, intimacy and social norms are warped by what she's gleaned from the experiences and imaginings of a hundred dying minds. Most of this you've already been picking up, but really, you could lie to her all day long and she'd believe you until proven otherwise.
The last bit is that while she's well aware of sex, the joys of sex and feelings of being with someone attractive, even someone you're emotionally involved with, she's never personally had these experiences. She's as new at this as you are, she just has a different resource for expectations. You have the internet, she has dream-food.
After you pull up the covers, she slides underneath them, begins giggling lightly as she fumbles with your boxers. Do you stop her? I imagine not... right?