There is no class Priscilla enjoys less than English Comp. She has never understood why anyone should be required to take a lesson in the language they already speak totally fine. She doesn’t want to be a writer, can’t imagine any job she’d want to have where she’d have to either write or do math, the two least fun things she can think of. So, as the professor is going on about something, thesis statements or effective organization, or some other boring-ass shit, she’s zeroing in on only enough of the example on the board to start scribbling notes for a paper about her relationship with Brody Jenner.


I. Brody Jenner & me meet at a big party of reality stars.

II. Brody Jenner flirts with me even though Avril Lavigne (or whoever) is there. Realize BJ is a douche.

III. Tim Riggins & me meet at a big party of famous people. Looks greasy. Blow TR off for Boardwalk Empire guy. Also greasy.

a. why is greasy a thing?

b. greasy should so not be a thing

IV. Blow Boardwalk Empire guy off for hot Asian dude from Glee. Blow HAD off for young British Darth Vader. (Hott, also looks smart & maybe is not so douchey)

V. How I get Darth Vader away from Rachel Bilson (or whoever)

a. wear something super-hot

b. eye contact, flip hair, tongue on drink stirrer

c. hook up

VI. Wedding. Relationship

a. Us pretending we don’t like paparazzi when really we do

i) covering face with oversized designer satchel

ii) going to Hawaii for a private getaway but oops I mentioned it to a
couple people, whatevs

VII. Big fight, Darth Vader really doesn’t like paparazzi after all

a. You’re full of shit, No you’re full of shit, I’m not full of shit, whatevs,
     you knew they’d be there when we went to get the tattoos

b. hot makeup sex

VIII. Romantic proposal in English countryside

a. Reservations

i) suspect he’s private tweeting RB

ii) not crazy about ring/doesn’t know me

IX. Wedding.

X. Divorce.


All this amounts to, really, is that Priscilla realizes she has nothing under “wedding” except for “divorce,” not even a beautiful dress, because she’s not really interested in getting married—not anytime soon anyway, not from what she’s seen of it—plus she doesn’t want to coast on somebody else’s star. Really can’t even think of even one famous guy she’s super into, anyway. All guys are assholes. Her mother has no idea.

She crumples up her outline and starts over with the tentative title “Anna Wintour, Role Model.” She knows what a lot of people think about Anna Wintour, but what Priscilla knows about Anna Wintour could probably fill a book, if she were so inclined. She feels a certain kinship with the misunderstood fashion editor. She’s known for being cold, but her love of fashion began so young. She read Seventeen magazine as a kid! Priscilla read Seventeen! Anna hemmed up her skirts in junior high school! Worked at a boutique! Does just fine without a man! Priscilla has seen The September Issue half a dozen times, has a file folder full of articles about Anna Wintour. Screw boys.

Plus, as much as she’s always hated her name and wanted to change it to something normal, like Madison or Olivia, she suddenly realizes there are no famous Priscillas except for that lady that was married to Elvis and that was like a hundred years ago.

Priscilla will be the first Priscilla to be super famous with her own last name.

Priscilla wants her own separate star.


Elizabeth Crane is the author of three collections of short stories, When the Messenger is Hot, All this Heavenly Glory, and most recently You Must Be This Happy to Enter.  Her work has also been featured in numerous publications and anthologies.  She is a recipient of the Chicago Public Library 21st Century Award, and her work has been featured on NPR’s Selected Shorts and adapted for the stage by Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theater company.  She teaches in the UCR-Palm Desert low-residency MFA program.  Her debut novel, We Only Know So Much, is out now  from HarperPerennial.

Adapted from We Only Know So Much by Elizabeth Crane. Copyright © 2012 by Elizabeth Crane. With the permission of the publisher, Harper Perennial.

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