nefelibata
(n.) "cloud-walker": one who lives in the clouds of their own imagination or dreams, or one who doesn't obey the conventions of society, literature, or art.

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LOGAN

I flip the pink cover of the iPad and press the only button on the flat rectangular screen. The wallpaper is a black dreamcatcher on top of a starry glaxy in various hues of purple. The familliar 'slide to unlock' appears, and the keypad of numbers from zero to nine.

Stupid me, I knew I wouldn't unlock it. I knew this would happen.

For the sake of me being able to rest, I type 1234. Of course that isn't the passcode. I play with the numbers a few times. 4321? Nope. 5678, no. 6789. Not that either.

The iPad shuts down and disables for a minute because of my failed attempts. Sighing, I flinch in bed, trying to get a comfortable position and shove the thing in the large space under my pillow. I close my eyes, but they refuse going to sleep.

I take out the iPad again for one last try. If I once again fail (which I obviously will), I am literally going to get some hot glue to make me doze off. Extremely tired, I punch in the code of my birthday. 0322.

What the actual fudge.

The wallpaper now changes to a scenery of pink skies. I just. . . opened an iPad that fell from a stranger's bag. How often can you correctly guess a passcode?

I scroll through the few apps on the screen. There's not much though, just the basics that are all built in by Apple, plus Facebook, Instagram, Wattpad, and all the other social media apps.

Now what?

I stare at the iPad in my very hands. It dumbly feels like magic and I'm still absorbing the fact that I have access to something very private to another person. Seriously, gadgets hold your whole life. Yeah, I get all that stuff about not being too addicted, and not always prioritize technology or let it get in the way, but it'd be super tricky if your phone went to bad hands. They carry contact numbers, important information, emails.

Sooo, to snoop or not to snoop?

Reculantly, I tap the Notes icon. Maybe that'd be enough for me to get some sleep, just to kill my curiosity. It's not like super private stuff are in there, right? Facebook would be worse.

The page opens to an unsent letter written just yesterday -- or rather, two days ago cause it's like two am right now.

Feeling very sinful for invading this River Valley High girl's privacy, I start reading it.

Dear L.O,

      Hey. It's been years since I last wrote a pathetic letter to you -- I was about fifteen years old, and today, I have finally made a decision. A kind of stupid one, but I think it'll be worth it.

      I am going to burn this iPad tomorrow.

      I've written loads of things here, not a single one that isn't about you or related to you. I've been crushing on you since I was twelve, and I will never be able to forget about you if I don't destroy this, as much as it surprisingly hurts me.

      But just because I had a crush on you does not mean I now believe in magic or the perfect fantasies. I'm perfectly aware that those things only happen in movies and hell yeah, I've written a lot about you already and nothing's going to happen -- I know that I'll forever compose unsent things and stare at the iPad and wait for some news about you.

      I honestly wish I could just forget about you; life would be much easier without worrying, hoping, doubting, or you being the cause of my happiness.

     Super gross and cheesy, but tbh, I can't thank you enough for beng an inspiration to me all through the things I write. I would've never written a whole twenty five chapter story if it were not for the dream. But as much as I like you, I freakin' hate you.

      How can I ever forget someone I've written so much about? How can I forget the only real and long person I actually liked during my whole lifespan? (ugh hate reading that part) How can I forget someone I wrote poems about and dream about random times of the day? You know, I even stay longer in bed sometimes automatically; it just occurs when I dream of something happy (mostly you duh) and I close my eyes hoping that I can get back in that world and escape reality, but I wake up everyday having to face the fact that you. Are. A. Dream. You don't know me, I don't know you, and what goes on in my head shall forever be fictional. I'm disgusted by myself, really.

     I also want to tell you, one reason of why I think I still haven't stopped having a crush on you is because of my stories. I run away to my fantasy worlds and play the role of a complete lunatic, while you're having your own separate life and know nothing of me, making myself believe in the very words that I write. SERIOUSLY, I HATE MYSELF SO MUCH NOW. At the end of the day, there's no one I should and can blame but myself.

     I'm going to destroy the iPad first thing as I go home from school. Mom and dad will be at work like always, and the quicker I get rid of this, the easier it should be.

-Cassidy French

I flinch in my bed as I try getting a comfortable position. So her name's Cassidy French. It rings a bell, as if I've been used to hearing it countless times before, but I can't decipher.

I don't quite get what she means, but it's easy to see that she likes dreams because she can't get over her ex? I don't know, it's confusing. And why in the world would she have to burn her iPad? Guess I saved this little object's life.

Cassidy obviously loves writing; she has 1000 notes and normal people don't have the time or the desire to write that much. I tap on the next note just below the unsent letter. I promise myself that it'll be the last. The first one already seemed so private, and I don't have the smallest of rights to read.

Apparently, the next one Cassidy wrote is a record of a dream she had about that L.O guy.

ANOTHER DREAM OF L.O THAT I HAD
Okay, so I'm at the spare master's bedroom down at our house that grandpa usually stays in when he visits. The room is really chilly because of the aircon, and the lights are turned off. There's a yellowish vibe though, because of the sunlight looming through the white curtains at the windows. I'm sitting on the edge of the sofa, because L.O is lying down on the bed, covered under the soft white blanket. He's sick, and I don't have the slightest idea of how he ended up at my home. Anyways, we're whispering to each other and time just passes like that. I just gape at his blue eyes and feel the magic carpet transport me to an even more magical world than the dreams inside my head. As cliché as it sounds, I wish from the deepest parts of my heart that the time could stay like that forever. I know that reality isn't kind enough to grant me that, but it'd mean so much if I could at least always have this in my head.
Conclusion: GAHHH THIS DREAM WAS AMAZING! Sometimes I deny this, sometimes I don't, but omg he was cute. Ughhh I hate how I read that again and it feels so girly, but I am girly, and just. . . eww.

I find myself laughing and smiling like an idiot. Cassidy seems fun and silly. I tap the next series of text, which is a poem, but before my eyes are available to wrap to another sentence, the notes app is gone and I'm back to the pink clouds wallpaper without pressing the button. I catch the battery lessen to one percent from my peripheral before it completely powers down.

Still annoyingly in a tiny smirk, I go near my table where a bunch of wires are cooped up near an extension cord. I charge the iPad and return to my pillows.

I just unlocked an iPad. I just read something very classified. Is this for real?

Like a five year old who's just been read a bedtime story by mom, I finally greet the pleasure of sleep at the late hour of two thirty am just as soon as I close my eyes.

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It's dark everywhere, and I feel a cool substance touch my head, slowly dripping down to my mouth with freezing pain each second.

"What the heck?!" I snap as my eyes open and narrow at the sudden light from the window. The water falls down to my clothes and I see no other than the two famous dumbheads, Dylan and Gavin.
"Man, it's nine in the morning. Last time I checked you don't need a prince to kiss you awake," says Gavin. I sit up in bed and punch him on the shoulder.
"And you use ice cold water to wake me?" I ask.
"Well we could have asked you politely, but we've been here for hours and kindness isn't going to take us anywhere," replies Dylan.
"Whatever," I say, ruffling my hair. "Why are you two here?" I ask.
"Going to the mall! You got to know everything that happened yesterday," says Gavin as I get off the bed lazily and flee downstairs. They trail behind as I walk out.
"Why the mall? You two wanna go shopping for dresses and shoes?" I tease.
"Ha ha, says the majestic Sleeping Beauty." Dylan fires back with a snort.

It doesn't take a while before we reach the mall and spend hours with Gavin and Dylan blabbering on and on about the party. By twelve noon, we are still seated lazily at Starbucks. They woke me up using ice when all we were going to do was drink some coffee and eat cake.

"So yeah, it was already seven and then the table was changed, and there was like so many food! I swear, there was more food than the richest buffet in the world, I didn't know if it was real," says Dylan as I sip my frappuccino.
"Gavin's mom sure knows how to order the best things to eat," Dylan continues. Gavin's brown eyes perk up in amusement like an invisible light bulb lit up above his hair.
"You know what happened when we first got home?" asks Gavin slowly. I roll my eyes in boredom.
"What?" I mutter.
"Fall asked us where you were!" booms Dylan in happiness.
"So?" he asks.
"So?" I mimic.
"What? You're gonna sit there and say nothing?" says Gavin.
"Well, you two aren't gonna stop with the Fall loves Logan jokes, so this reaction isn't really going to change anything," I say, as they both laugh repeatedly.

Quietly drinking the frap, I stand from our table and head over to the counter. I'm planning to get chocolate chip cookies for Alyssa. Yes, I am a good brother but that does not mean I think that child isn't a monster.

I get the bag of sweets from the Barista after paying. I turn around to throw my drink, but as soon as the cup falls into the trash, the lid slips and makes direct contact with the cold floor.

Instantly, a girl typing on her phone enters the cafe. Like magic, she steps on the lid with her right Stan Smith shoe. She looses her balance and as if time slowly stopped, she slips as her phone flies from her hands.

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Herro herro!

This chapter was so far the longest one I spent time on because something happened to me irl, which I would describe as something related to this and trust me when I say that that happening was far from "good". Also, it took me another day to complete this, because the first part where Logan was in between choices to snoop in Cassidy's iPad was deleted, so I had to rewrite it all over again. I just hate it when this happens!

This part is a bit fun and I'm like fangirling and going all crazy. I don't want to spoil anything, but you obviously know what's going to happen next, and I am so excited!

Please vote, comment, and follow me because it would literally mean the world if you could, and I'll try returning the favor. I hope you like Utterly Impossible so far!