Saturday, April 12, 2008

THE CATALYST, CHAPT 21
As the last few notes of the cherubic, heart-achingly sweet melody finally finished fading into the air molecules and it‘s listeners hearts, Bob Sparroth only had one thing to say about the song: “Beautiful.” His eyes were widened in a mixture of awe and hungry supplication that screamed: “GIVE ME MORE.” “Just beautiful.”
However, Bob’s practically orgasmic reaction to the just-play-backed, newly recorded soon-to-be hit was nothing compared to the coy, sly, practically glowing-with-mirth grin brightening Jason’s face.
The kid had definitely delivered. Definitely. And the best part was, she hadn’t even been trying. Jason could only imagine how good she would be once she actually officially become the band’s co-lyricist. And it wasn’t just because of her poems, either. She also had inadvertently worked as a sort of good luck charm for the band. The most notable difference had probably been that, for whatever reason, Mikey had been more easily able to compose an especially radiant, fitting melody for Yuki’s song. And the recording process had somehow gone more smoothly than usual as well.
“Yeah, I gotta admit, Jay,” said Mikey, smiling, obviously pleased with the new potential single. “Your girl definitely came through. I mean, I had my doubts, but…” But everybody knew how that sentence ended. Sure, the entire band had been a bit reluctant to give Jason’s rather unorthodox choice of a candidate for co-lyricist a chance due to her being so young, but whatever doubts anyone had at first were entirely scrapped now. It didn’t even matter that no one besides Jay had met her yet. Everyone had seen the difference. It was clear that, no matter what Jay‘s, Mike‘s, Brent‘s, Andy’s, and Bob’s beliefs might be, at some level, Yuki was simply meant to be part of the band.
However, although their doubts had been quelled, the same could not be said for their curiosity. In fact, the next words--said by Brent--to shatter the silence were: “Yeah, but, so, like, when do we get to meet this child prodigy of yours, Jay?”
“That’s right,” Bob agreed. “I mean, if she’s going to be working with us on entire album, I’d at least like to have actually seen her in person before giving her a cut of the CD‘s profits.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” assured Jason. “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know her-she’s going to be coming with us to Asia.”
“Really?” Bob frowned, the twinkling of blissful awe giving way to mildly alarmed concern in his hazel gaze. “Is she going to be, like, with us for the WHOLE TOUR? The WHOLE YEAR?”
“Well, almost. She’s probably going to be leaving a few months early. Why?”
Mikey and Bob exchanged nervous glances. Andy, who was the only one in the room besides Jay that knew Yuki was actually 15 and not 19, had, upon hearing that she’d be joining them on the tour, spastically snapped to attention and shot a gaping, speechless-with-scandalized-shock, “ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR MIND?!!?!?!?!” look at Jason.
“Well….” Bob stammered, still obviously worried for his oh-so-nervous-makingly under-age potential tour-mate. “Isn’t she a bit, um, young to travel half-way around the world with a bunch of random rocker dudes she doesn‘t even know? I mean, she’s only, like, what 18, 19-years-old? Jay, she’s barely out of high school!”
Well, actually, as Andy and Jason happened to know, she was really still IN high school. 11th grade, as a matter of fact. Somewhere in the back of Jason’s mind, he couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the coincidence that Yuki was a junior in high school and she was also the junior, by at least 10 years, of everyone in the band. In fact, even Andy, who was the youngest member of the quartet at about 27-years-old, had been a solid 9 years older than Yuki currently was when he had first toured. This of course meant that once Yuki joined the band, Andy would no longer be the baby of the group. Maybe it was this that kept his mouth shut about the girl’s actual age. Or maybe it was that he was rather curious to see how she’d fair in the hectic, often frustrating, almost impossible life of rocker tour life. But, well, for whatever the reason, Andy stayed silent on the matter.
Too bad everyone else didn’t.
“Yeah, man, I gotta admit,” Brent chimed in. “It’s kind of unsettling. Besides, won’t her parents be worried?”
Jason was about to reply that Relax, Guys, He Was Handling This when his front pants-pocket broke out in chorus of obscure ‘80s rock. He retrieved the actual perpetrator of the ‘80s karaoke, a black cell-phone, from his pants and peered into the glowing screen. The caller ID informed him that it was “S.T. Wen.” Shanty.
“Um… Hang on a minute, guys,” he threw over his shoulder, before answering the onyx I-Phone.

“What’s up?”
“Hey. You know that attack on Yuki’s school that happened on Monday?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I got bad news: Those black-robed, assassin guys that helped Vash infiltrate the place? I found out they’re servants of some weird cult-driven mafia family: the Knolles clan. And here‘s the worst part: their leader goes to Yuki‘s school.”
“Okay. And how do you know this mafia stuff is legit?”
“I heard one of the black-robe guys talking on Monday. He mentioned something about a ‘Master Jonah’ and the ‘honor of the great and powerful Knolles clan.‘ When I found out that Yuki went to school with a guy named Jonah Knolles, I was curious, so I googled ‘Knolles,’ and got a crap-load of old, digitized newspaper articles about a bunch of crimes the ‘infamous Knolles family’ committed. And, it turns out, every single head of the family, since 1922, was named Jonah.”
“Well, okay, but why did this Jonah dude lend some of his goons to Vash? Like, what‘s their connection.”
“Vash is Jonah’s uncle-in-law. I found out when I went to, um, ‘investigate’ his house last night. Meaning…”
“Meaning, now, Vash has mob connections. Great,” Jason muttered, sardonically. He knew what this meant: He was no longer the only one with connections to Yuki. Vashou had his little spy implanted in the girl’s life too. And not only that, but even Vashoutoh’s connection had connections: he was the uncle of a damn mafia boss, for crying out loud! Yes, there was no doubt about it. Vashoutoh could definitely cause some serious damage with this one. “Hell,” Jay thought, remembering the Monday massacre, “he already did!”
“Get rid of him, Shan-Shannnn,” Jason sang through his teeth, trying to appear mildly irritated instead of vastly troubled, for the sake of his already suspicious band-mates.
“How?!” Shanty half-exclaimed, half-asked, from the other side of the line. “Uncle Jay, Jonah’s only 16 and no one except his family knows about his mob connections. There’s no way I can get rid of him without getting the cops involved.”
Jason sighed. Shanty was right. After all, what was he supposed to do, sneak a sack of marijuana into Jonah’s locker, tell one of the school officials, and hope the kid got expelled?
That kind of crap only worked in the movies.
The troubled prince of emo rock paused. He thought. He paced. He hesitated. He knew. There was no other half-reasonable way. This was the only other option.
The next words he said were in a hushed whisper. “Alright, then. New plan: Shan, you’re gonna have to bring her HERE. Like, soon. REALLY SOON.”
“WHAT?!?!”
“It’s no longer safe there for her! It never was! Hell, I should’ve had her moved right after the attack.” Jason paused again, this time to examine the rest of the room’s occupants. Bob, Mikey, and Brent were staring at him. Andy was frowning at him disapprovingly, knowing full well what was being discussed. Another sigh. He hated to do this, but what he was to instruct Shanty to do next could not be heard. Could not be heard, could not be witnessed, could not be seen. It was to remain utterly and completely secret. Therefore, he exited the room and limited himself to the confines of the bath-room, making sure to turn on the sink full blast and lock the door before he said another word.
“Uncle Jay, that’s kidnapping! That’s abduction! I can’t do that, it’s, like, the worst degree of stealing! Besides, what if she gets away and calls the cops? Do you have any idea how long I could go to jail for?!”
Jason chuckled. “Hon, with a face like yours, you could probably get her to walk through a goddamn volcano without a single complaint.”
There was a short, surprised pause as Jay sensed Shanty blush. Yet, the next words he said were a humorless, acid “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Oh, alright, fine! I’ll do it FOR you, okay? Look, I’ll even get some of my bodyguards to help. All you have to do is lure her to the car, okay? Then, once she’s in, Mecha, [Wenterz bodyguard no.1], will hold her down while Seres, [Wenterz bodyguard no.2], will give her some sort of sedative that should knock her out for at least 3 and a half hours. Then, I’ll drive her over here. In short, you won‘t even have to touch her. So, there. Happy?”
“No-It’s STILL abduction, whether I participate or not!”
Jay sighed. Shanty could be so annoyingly naïve sometimes. “Look, it’s not abduction. It’s not kidnapping, it’s not stealing- it’s BORROWING. I’m planning on having her back safe and sound in 11 months and a week. A year, tops. Besides: We’re not endangering her, we’re SAVING her from Vash and the Knolles.”
There was another pause as Shanty considered this.
“Well… Okay.” He still sounded reluctant to perpetrate the plan, but he definitely seemed a lot more comfortable with the concept than he initially had. Still, something kept bothering him: “But what about the parents?”
“I dunno, what about ‘em?”
“UNCLE!!” Shanty was appalled. How on earth could Jason expect him to randomly walk up to some Maryland native minor, tempt her into his car, and then allow her to be driven all the way to Chicago to be flown to the other side of the earth without even so much as a note for her parents? That was completely and utterly wrong. Not only would he be taking away their little girl, he would probably indirectly kill them by having them worry to death!
“Oh, alright, alright,” Jay conceded. “Write them--no, TYPE them a note or something. But make sure nobody can tell it’s you. I don’t want you to go to jail anymore than you do, Shanty.”
“But…What do I say to them? In the note I mean?” Guilt and hesitance were still seeping through his voice.
“Oh, I don’t know! To be honest, I’d prefer if you didn’t leave them any--”
“Uncle, we’re taking away their DAUGHTER! Writing them a note to insure her safe return and welfare is the least we could do.”
“Now, Shan, you and I both know that’s just the guilt talking again: relax! I just told you: We‘re doing her a favor. I mean, she doesn‘t know what kinda danger she‘s in! Besides, it‘s not really such a bad life I‘m going to provide her with, is it? I mean, she‘s going to have a job that feels like play, she‘s going to get to go all over Asia with us, AND we‘re giving her a cut of the CD‘s profits. It like getting paid to take a vacation. Most kids her age would KILL for a deal like that!”
Shanty sighed. This was just too much. “Uncle Jay… You‘re out of your ---ing mind.”
“Don’t state the obvious, Shanty.”
“Hey!” came Andy’s voice from beyond the bath-room door. “Jay what’re you doing in there?! You’re talking to Shanty about Yuki, aren’t you?! DAMMIT, STOP KEEPING STUFF FROM ME, YOU’RE MAKING ME PARANOID!!”
Sigh. “Alright, I’ll be out in a sec!” he hollered back, then tossed Shanty a quick: “Alright, kid, I gotta go now. Guys are getting suspicious.”
“Wait! What about--”
“Shanty, don’t worry about a thing. You’ll be fine. I promise. But I’ve seriously gotta go now. Bye.”
Click. And thus the call was terminated. Along with another fraction of Shanty‘s patience. He sighed, muttered a couple Spanish cusses, and placed the phone back into his jacket pocket. This wasn’t the first time his madmen of an uncle had gotten him mixed up in ridiculous situations like this, but this was definitely the most ludicrous. Definitely the most ludicrous and definitely the most illegal. Seriously.
Resuming his position as a stealth master stalker was one thing, but KID-NAPPING? At this point, Shanty wouldn’t be surprised if his uncle asked him to rob Buckingham Palace. Bet let’s concentrate on one scandal at a time, shall we? The potential victim of the current one could be heard automatically droning out hushed Glory Be’s, Our Father’s, and Hail Mary’s in a monotone from the hall-way adjacent to the momentarily abandoned tech. Ed classroom guess-which-scene-stalker was currently hiding in. What was wrong, you ask? He had no idea. No shadow of a chance of a clue of an idea. This was, of course, the school official‘s faults: Due to the many teachers chaperoning the bath-rooms out-side of the cafeteria to make sure no students who weren’t enrolled in the current lunch snuck into the lavatories without a pass, Shanty hadn’t been able to get close enough to get a clear view. But something had obviously happened. Something tragic, evidently.
Because, about 15 minutes earlier, the girl had come staggering out of the cafeteria in a heart-sick, almost-careless-enough-to-be-suicidal-despair-induced daze, like a Southern girl groupie stereo-type who‘d just been misinformed that Bon Jovi had been assassinated. As soon as she had reached a part of the hall-way that could be considered isolated and chapel-like enough, she had promptly practically collapsed unto the floor, leaning against the wall, and had extracted a rosary from her jeans pocket. She had been praying ever since, scouring all of Heaven for a sense of solace amidst the misery of Whatever Had Just Occurred in The Cafeteria.
Concerned, Shanty poked his head out of the door and glanced at the still-sighing mass of prayer and pessimism, still disconsolately slumped against the foam green wall.
“What happened?” he asked, approaching the girl, opting to not even bother with the whole Are You Okay? Yeah I’m Fine, No You’re Not routine.
At this, the girl raised her sullen eyes from the wretched nebula of dust particles gathering on the floor and attempted to fake a convincing smile.
No such luck.
“Oh. Hey, C.A.I.”
“Hey,” he supplied, then repeated in a slightly more firm, “I demand an answer!” voice: “What’s wrong?” Yeah. No way in hell was he going to allow her to distract him with the formalities while she danced around the issue, pretending everything was just fine and dandy. He’d made the mistake of letting his oh-so-angst-filled uncle convince him with that lie way too many times. And the results had always been regrettable.
In reply, Yuki sighed. Yuki shrugged. Yuki said: “Nothing… Everything. I dunno.”
“Yes you do,” He said, plopping down beside her. “I saw what those little jackasses did to you at the bus-stop. Sorry there was nothing I could do. Sadly my, er, contract prevents me from intervening in anything that isn‘t a psychotic body-builder about to bash your brains out with a crowbar, or the like.”
Again, she shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” she said, sounding perfectly calm and collected. But despite these attempts at trying to either cool her heard or simply appear cool-headed, the demons blissfully wallowing in her precariously unstable mood were evidently just enjoying her misery far too much to let her go. Because that’s when the sighing morphed into seething, and the sorrow drowned itself in rage.
“No,” she half muttered, half-hissed at the wall she had suddenly began to stare vehemently at. “You had nothing to do with it… And neither did I. Gawddamn it, I’m sick of always blaming myself when I know it’s all Jonah‘s fault. All Jonah‘s and all Dan‘s.” That was the last profanity-free sentence she said. After that, it was all one, big, hissed, incoherent, vicious string of too-intense-to-be-clearly-expressed-in-words garble such as: “Thathypocriticalintolerantlittlepieceofshit… HowthefuhckisithisbusinessifImakeafoolouttamyselfbecauseofhim?! Doesn’thehavealifeofhisown?!?! Asifallthosemotherfuckingbulimiarumorlastyearweren’tshittyenough!! AndIknowhedoesn’tfuckinglikemebackbutwhydoesDanhavetobesuchadickabout it?!?!?!?! I swear…”
This went on for 5 more minutes or so, with poor Shanty all the while trying to help the situation, despite having no clue as to what the situation was, until Yuki finally paused. And groaned. And, threw her hands up in submission, yelling: “OH, SCREW THIS SHIT!!!” Her purposely dropped, formerly up-thrown hands hit the concrete floor with a “THWAK!” Ignoring the pain, she tossed a bitter chuckle into the air molecules, contorting her reddened-with-approaching-tears face into a sarcastic, cynical grin to conceal the conflict and contain the crying. “Forget him. Forget Jonah. No.. It IS all my fault. All mine…” At this, all Shanty could do was stammer, incoherently. How ironic. Now HE was the one garbling.
But, hey, who could blame him? He had no idea what was going on. So far, all he could infer was that there was a Dan and a Jonah involved, it was evidently somebody‘s fault, and… Well, that was it. So what was he supposed to say, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade”…? “Every cloud has a silver lining”…? “Don’t eat the yellow snow”…?
HOW THE HELL WERE ANY OF THOSE SUPPOSED TO HELP?! (Well, except for that last one, of course.)
Not that it really mattered at this point. The girl was talking more to herself now than to Shanty.
“Yeah, I should’ve known better by this point,” she murmured tentatively, gazing off pensively, reflectively into nowhere. “I shouldn’t have even dared to dream. I shouldn’t have even breathed in his general direction. I, I….” Her voice trailed off. Her words broke. So did the surface-tension on the tears prickling along the out-skirts of her eyes.
At this, Shanty just couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to know what was going on. He needed to help. He needed to not just be watching from the side-lines as Yuki broke down like this. “Okay,” he sighed, trying to relax. “Let’s try this again: Yuki, what is wrong? And be clear this time. I can’t help if I don’t know what happened. And, honestly, I really can’t take not helping when you’re doing this badly, so…”
“Oh, just your typical, every-day unrequited love/teen angst bullshit,” she shrugged cavalierly, despite the tears freely trickling down her face now. “You know: the usual.”
“Oh…” He gave a solemn nod of sincere understanding. Indeed, he did know. Being an ex-stalker of 10 years, he could more than relate to Yuki in this aspect. He knew exactly what it was like to practically worship someone who probably couldn’t even remember your last name. The next thing she knew, Yuki was being gathered into a hug by her fellow neglected obsessive. “I’m so sorry, honey. I know exactly what that’s like…”
“I-I just don’t get it, you know?” she sniffled. “I’ve got no right to say I love him because I barely even know him, and yet for these past 2 and a half years…” She ended in a choke and a shiver.
“I know, hon. But it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay…”
“But, why? Why do I like him when I know he’s not even worth it? Why do I even bother when I’ve known all along there’s no point? And why, oh, why do I only ever want to be where I’m not wanted?” Again, she choked, allowed her head to wilt against Shanty’s chest, then crackled: “I… Am… SO sick of this!”
There was a solemn pause, during which Yuki’s gaze went dead and she got lost in the oh-so-welcome warmth of Shanty’s hand stroking her back, up and down. Down and up.
After this, the next thing she felt was something soft and slightly chapped being tapped against her fore-head. Then, the very same something--it turned out to be Shanty’s mouth--told her: “Yeah, I know it hurts like Hell. And, honestly, you’ve got every right to cry. But hang in there, kid. Be strong.” Then, remembering that he had been commanded to help spirit the girl away some time this week, he added: “It’s only for a little while longer. I promise. Then, you’ll never have to deal with Mr. Tall Scene and Handsome for a long, lonnnng time.”
As Shanty was giving the girl one last encouraging squeeze, then stood up to exit the hallway once the end-of-lunch-bell sounded, she gave him a suspicious look and inquired: “Wait. How do YOU know he’s tall and scene and handsome?”
He smiled at her over his shoulder. “I was watching you at the bus-stop, remember? I saw him.” Then, turning around to face her completely and stooping down so his gaze was level with hers, added: “And, honestly, if that gangly, chick-haired madre-juada doesn’t like you back, he ain’t worth your time. You’re probably more than that ignorant little bitch could ever hope for. I mean, judging by his T-shirt, we’re talking about a kid who listens to ELECTRIC BANANA, for God’s sake! Anyone who likes THAT group of miserable old has-beens who couldn’t write a single decent lyric to save their lives has got to be, in the very least, deranged. So, trust me, honey, you can do SO much bet-” But Shanty never got to finish that sentence. He never had to.
Because, judging by the abrupt placement of Yuki’s mouth on Shanty’s, she appeared to be already convinced.

TWENTY MINUTES EARLIER…
(The following is based on an entry from the diary of Jonah Knolle CXX)
4/11/09, Thursday
OH. MY. GAWD…
I’m going to kill him. I’m seriously going to get a blowtorch one day, break into his house, get one of my families servants to hold him down while I pour oil all over him, and ---ing kill him. I swear. Dan is so excruciatingly stupid!
I HATE HIM, I HATE HIM, I HATE HIM!!!!!
I mean, I could almost understand if he was an evil, torturous bastard like Vash and tormented Belinda on purpose, but he’s too much of an idiot to even realize it’s all his fault that she just left the cafeteria, probably to bawl her eyes out in private, looking like she’d just been punched in the stomach! And as if that wasn’t infuriating enough, he just HAD to include me in it, too.
Seriously. There I was, just innocently eating my lunch in the cafeteria listening to Gus and Chris exchange random Adam Sandler jokes, discreetly training my eyes on her, who had just walked past my table to get a drink at the near-by water-fountain, when someone appears out of nowhere and plops down next to me.
Only, I didn’t notice the plopping down of the someone, because at the moment, I was too busy being tantalized by her. Drinking from the water fountain. Bent over. Like, right in front of me.
Plopped Down Someone: [leans into me, whispering in my ear, insidiously] “Stalking the stalker, are we?
Me: “GAH!!” [whips around to see Dan half-sneering, half-snickering at my surprised reaction. Glares slightly.] “Oh. Hey, Dan. Wassup.”
Dan: “Well, if you’re referring to what’s up Amy, It’s going to be ME, in about 3 and a half hours and counting.” [wink, wink. Hint, hint.]

Ugh. At the mention of his oh-so-unbearably insecure, fascist, pretentious, Hell-spawned girl-friend, Amy Lia, I couldn’t help but cringe a little. I mean, sure, she’s hot,--a bloody super model, in fact!-- but she’s SUCH a bitch! Seriously.
But, then again, it’s been about 2 weeks since Dan and Amy hooked up, and since then he hasn’t even considered so much as suggesting she stop with all that fake tan crap before her skin turns permanently orange, so I suppose the sex must be pretty fantastic.
But anyway…

Me: “Awesome. So, uh, why aren’t you with Amy, then?”

Dan: “Oh, I will be. I just wanted to thank you first. You know, for what you did earlier. On the Bus. To Bionca.”

Me: [soundlessly moans in guilt-filled anguish at mention of this morning’s events] “It’s BELINDA, Dan.”
Dan: “Whatever. Point is, Amy would still be bitching at me because of her if you hadn’t…. Well, you know.”

Indeed, I did know.
What I didn’t know, however, was how Amy could’ve been so stupid and insecure enough to get all pissy with Dan because of Belinda in the first place. I mean, so what if Belinda used to sexually harass him on a daily basis almost 3 years ago? So what if she still liked him? So what if she was half a calorie skinner than Amy? Seriously. Was Amy REALLY that insecure? Did she REALLY have that much of a jealousy complex?

Me: [takes another bite of sandwich so I can have an excuse not to talk.] “Mm-hm.”

Dan: [ignores my discomfort and goes right on talking.] “To be honest, I really didn’t think it would work, though. I thought Belinda’d be over me by now. I mean, it’s been almost 3 years! But, I guess she’s still hooked. [Shrug.] Who knew?” I did. I also knew it wasn’t fair. I also knew Dan should be slapped upside-the-head for treating her like shit when she was so much better than him and liked him so much. Especially when God knows he never deserved her and he never would. But then, neither will I.

Dan: [chuckles.] “But, Gawd, she’s such an obsessive little freak, isn’t she? And she’s so whiney! Man, I dunno how Cori put up with it. Every time she came over our house, she was always like: ‘Cori, Mr. Whoever’s gonna fail me!’ ‘Cori, I lost my 25 cents!’ ‘Cori, I totally forgot yesterday’s homework!’ Wah, wah, wah. [rolls eyes.] Seriously, man! I cannot even begin to imagine who would be desperate enough to want HER. Matter of fact, she’d be lucky if some serial rapist would--”

Alright. That’s the last straw. Me: “Dan, shut the --- up!!”

Dan: [stares at me, obviously perplexed and surprised]

Me: “Alright, fine, I get it, you don’t like her! You don’t have to be such a dick about it! And if you do, then find somebody else to bitch to! Cause I sure as --- don’t wanna hear it!”

Soft, wounded-sounding voice from behind me: “Yeah. Neither do I.”

Me: [turns around to see Belinda, standing miserable and hurt a mere 5 feet behind me, in perfect earshot; having obviously just heard every word Dan said]

In conclusion: Dan Bennett must die.
Comments (1)