[ go! ]

“Yes, this is delicious. No– you can’t have any.”

Oh–– why am I sitting with you, again? 

“You know Dreddy Kruger?” Jeremy asked not even bothering to defend his beloved Wu-Tang clan. He didn’t ponder it to much because he was busy responding. “If we are going to talk about worshiping rappers, we aren’t going to take about Dreddy Kruger. He’s not even apart of the original group.” Jeremy turned onto a side street and for maybe the first time the whole ride, he drove at a reasonable speed.”I don’t know but they’re rad and I definitely think we should bring that shit back. I mean we’re ripping everything else out of the 90′s why not rip that to?”

"It'd do you good," she half-joked. "It's not even about the grades anymore, I'm just afraid that if you keep listening to trashy rhyme with techno background music, you'll end up on the street, trying to make your own art." she watched him for a second, before speaking again. "And that'd be horrendous. Not necessarily for you, like, I'm sure you wouldn't give too much damn, but what would I say if people asked? They'd find out that I know you, and I don't want everyone to think I was once friends with a rapper." she wasn't being entirely serious, of course not. After pushing her hair behind her ear, she glanced at him again. "I've tried to convince you to change, but that's it. I'm not gonna waste my time fighting your stubborness." 

“It’s only three more months, I can deal until then,” she sighed. “But for now I’ll be hiding out anywhere I can.”

“Are you sure? We’re talking about a psychopath’s daughter here.” Jill frowned just thinking about it. “Whatever,” she rolled her eyes before going back to folding some t-shirts. “You’re always welcome here. My roommate’s been MIA for few weeks, so if you need somewhere to sleep, the possibly infected bed over there is all yours.” 

Sorry, the gym is currently being used right now.

Yes, I noticed. Why the hell are you here? At this time, it’s usually a bunch of girls practicing volleyball. 

Jeremy laughed and quickly glanced from the road to her grinning. “Hell yeah it’s Russian rap. I’m pretty sure that’s Detsl’s album. He’s good his beats are kinda weak but he’s got a good flow.” With every CD she pulled out Jeremy would glance from the road to see it and then give her a brief run down of the artist. He spoke quickly and lively throwing out more niche terms then normally used words. He sounded a bit like some sort of dork babbling on and on about the Fantastic Four but instead of superheros it was rap music.”I’m pretty sure I’ve got Logic’s albums in there. Now, he’s good, Good beat, good flow, he’s a bit of a chameleon though,” he patted his hands against the steering wheel,”doesn’t have his own sound.Driving Ms. Daisy is still my favorite though. I don’t give a shit what critics have to say”

Jill, who at this point wasn't even catching up anymore, just shook her head. "I'll never understand these rappers and their choice of street-names. Like, Dreddy Krueger–– knowing you, you probably worship the guy, but whatever. Not the point. Does someone just wake up one morning and think 'Hey, it'd be so cool if I started choking out random rhymes under the name of 'Dreddy Krueger'!'" she raised her eyebrows, kinda surprised that she remembered that someone like that, in fact, existed. But that's how it is when you spend few years trying to become a Plastic––– you'll get to hear a lot of weird shit. But now that she was hanging out with Jeremy, the source of 'what the Hell are you talking about, bro?', it maybe wasn't all that weird anymore. 

"Hey, thanks for letting me hang in here for a bit,” Brynn said and sat up from the persons bed, looking away from her phone. “Greta’s been driving me crazy since I got back.”

“You know,” Jill started, focusing slightly more on the clothes she was folding than on the girl. “I think it’s time you kick out your obsessive admirer.” 

Oh, you know— just on my way to steal all of your friends, fuck your crush and hijack your car. The usual. 

Seems to me like you might talk slightly too much. 

"Yeah, would you have preferred me go with the bike? I mean it’s a good ride but it’s bit cold for that,"he said breezily. He laughed,"maybe next time." It was  little while late before what he had said really clicked in his head and by then it was to late. Next time, but who was their to say that there was even going to be a next time. He could never tell with Jill. Even after everything, Jeremy wasn’t sure if it was a this one time kinda deal. He was pretty sure and pretty sure was pretty good most of the time. He didn’t waist the brain power to try to think any harder about it much more content with just enjoying the moment. Thinking about it would just make his head hurt anyway, and who wanted that? Certainly not Jeremy. “This van is my baby,”he said patting the top of the dash affectionately. 

This time instead of speaking, she gave him the "thanks" kind of nod, before reaching out and grabbing the glove box. After a moment of looking at the CD's and deciding whether to start laughing or crying, she looked up and glanced over at him. "Is that Russian hip-hop?" she asked, sounding more surprised than expected, eyebrows raised, the amused 'what the hell, man' look on her face. She didn't wait for an answer, though. Instead, she went back to looking through the CD collection, the smirk on her face growing, the "dude what" becoming more intense. 

It's not for sale. 

Now, that’s the real bullshit. Why be like Ginny when I can be Claudia? and It’s pretty fucking great so. It is, but Ginny and I have a level of respect for each other and I know fairly well in what cases she would do so.

Because no one gives a flying fuck about Claudia? Awesome. Hit me up when you decide between sluts and druggies. 

Well, actually, you’ll be surprise to know that there’s a fair share of plastics who don’t want to be Virginia Kennedy-Spade. She happens to be the so called leader of my so called clique and I happen to accept that. I don’t care about it enough. 

Bullshit. Every rich, popular girl wants to be like Ginny. That, or they already believe they are. Like you three seconds ago, claiming that you could shove people into lower cliques. Isn't that the leader's job, only?