The Annoying Dreamer and the Artistic Doubter

How to Dream A Story Part 2: Drafting/Doing the Story

That Friday night, the two of them came to a game plan, realizing they only had a certain amount of time. They'd FaceTime together and see how much they could get done tonight, calling each other.

"Oh, hey," looking behind her room. "You have your own room?"

"Well my parents have one, I have the other You don't?"

He shook his head. "Mom doesn't believe in using computers in the bedroom for whatever dumb reason, so I'm stuck in my dining room. Ah," spotting around, "you've got plushies!"

"It's not that big, oh, you have a teddy bear!"

"We've had this for a while, Mom's like, oh you're too old, like no," annoyed and stretching your arms wide, "they're adorable!"

"Can't argue there. "

"Oh the bright side, if we go to college, we'll have our own rooms. I'll finally prove I can live on my own."

She sucked her teeth, amused. "My mom doesn't believe in me at all."

"Then let's prove her wrong."

They went from easiest to longest, starting with Spanish.

"After treinta, trienta y nueve is....um?"

"Cuarenta."

"So treinta y cinco más seis es cuarenta y uno?"

"Si, pergenio," amused by his childlike excitement.

"What did you call me?"

"Smart boy, dummy," she teased.

"Oh, not intelligente?"

"Oh sorry, we use pergenio for people who weren't not close too."

"But we are close," pouting. "Estamos?"

"Si, si, how about chico inteligente instead?"

"Better," blushing. "Gracias, bonita y inteligente."

"I'm not," shying away from the compliment.

"You are, we both just have more to learn."

A door knocked. "Stop talking to boys"

Camila turned back as Silas grew annoyed, blurting out the same reaction.

"I'm working with a friend, mom!"

They turned back to each other's screen.

"Wait, was that your mom or mine," he asked.

"Mine."

She burst in the room, spotting Camila on the phone with her Spanish, Social Studies, Science, and Math notebooks.

"You're," pausing your aggression, "studying?"

It was the first time Silas had seen her in the flesh. He coughed, cleaning his glasses quickly and trying to look as studious as possible.

"Buenas noches, Senora Rose?"

The two teens grew anxious as she grew closer to the screen.

"Who are you?"

"Silas Knight," spotting Camila mouthing she doesn't know about you.

"Um, consistent honor roll student? Incident free minus that one bullied incident. Close friends with your amazing daughter?"

Her mother turned to her, who nodded with everything she said.

"Why are you helping my child?"

"Oh, that's easy! She's my friend, and always helps me with my Spanish. And she's smarter than people give her credit for. We're trying to get our homework done quick to focus on our project, but I have a program to go to tomorrow, so might as well get it over with."

"Is that true, mija?"

"Yes mama."

The tension in her face subsided. "What's your name again?"

"Silas."

"Continue, don't let her slack."

"She's trying to make sure I don't slack," he teased, rubbing the back of the head, scrubbing it even faster from her stern eye lift. "Will do, ma'am."

"Good," staying there and sitting down. "Let me see how far you're going."

Camila sighed, but the two kept her bored finishing the spanish work.

"So how do we find the answers for Science?"

"Read the questions first, then start the reading."

"Wait, where is the answer? We've read this page twice and still can't find it!"

"Oh, Cam, I see it, it's underneath the model."

"Why, almost no one reads that."

"Draw the model so you can remember then."

"Huh," drawing it down as he did, admitting she had the better art.

Her mom yawned as they moved onto Social Studies.

"Industrialism? Like Industry Baby?"

"Like factories, technology."

"So what's an industrial plant?"

"It's like someone enters whatever field acting independent but lowkey has connections."

"Wait, they say Lil Nas X is an industry plant. Is that like that?"

"Boni," he said in an annoyed tone, spotting her mom watching them. No if I frame it, it's gonna look like she's not really paying attention. Wait, you've made weirder connections, that could work? "Cami, you're kinda right."

"Well sort of, industrialism's like manufacturing, building. He built up his music career and got lucky with the companies so people think he's planted for success. Makes sense?"

She tilted her head. "Kinda, it's like technology?"

"Hmm, think about it like this. If Nas was there around the industrial revolution, he would be some businessmen with his own tech and company. Following?"

"Oh okay!"

"But if he was an industrial plant during industrialism at the time, he'd probably be secretly related to some steel businessmen who gave him the money to start up. He'd lying about starting from nothing."

"Oh, like a nepo baby!"

"Yup, so who do you think made more money, back then, the nepo babies or the working class?"

"Workers" looking through her notes. "Wait no. They'd be the upper class while their employees would be the workers!"

He made an o shape with his hands around his head, playing the sound bit of a correct ding not out of common from a game show. They kept doing that back and forth, completely ignoring her mother growing quickly tired and overwhelmed at the vocabulary spewing back and forth.

Her husband came to pick her up out of the room. "Come on, let's get some rest, I'm sure she's got this."

Then came math, what Camila was dreading the most. Both of them started but while he got through 50% she was still stuck at 10%. he talked her through some of her problems only for them to get one of them wrong, rushing it.

"Sorry!"

"No, I'm not giving up just yet," yawning and straining her head. "I can do this!"

She kept thinking of the answer while lying down on her desk, until he could only hear snoring.

"Camila?"

Her dad came into the room.

"Looks like she tired herself out," picking her up. "Silas is it?"

"Um, yes?"

"Carlos. You met Carmen earlier. I've noticed she's been coming home much more positively than usual. Have a reason why?"

His cheeks dropped. "No idea, hehehe."

"Either way, good to know she's got a friend looking after her."

"Wait, before you go," he called out. "Could you do me a favor?"

Carlos nodded, and put his daughter to bed as they hung up.