Chapter 1
A steady dripping on her face was April O'Neil's alarm clock that morning. The pipe above her head had cracked and was slowly soaking her pillow. With a heavy sigh, April sat up and slid the cot out from under the crack. She would be out in the terminal area of the old maintenance junction to sleep until she could fix the crack. She was beginning to wonder if she should just move into one of the subway cars at the end of the track. But too many other "things" lived in them that she refused to risk it. Glancing over at her clock, she groaned at the image of 4:26 am.
"Why is it whenever I want to sleep in, that's when I end up waking up the earliest?" she asked out loud. Her response was a faint echo through against the stone and mortar. She lay back down again and attempted to sleep longer, but accepted that it was a lost cause. Dressed in her yellow nightgown, April flipped on her laptop and played soft music to help her wake up more. She checked emails and then checked her website "PROOF OF KRAANG INC." There weren't any posts on the forum, except for a few messages of "YOU TOO CAN EARN $90000 FROM HOME" and, to April's disgust, a rather steamy rendezvous between two chatters who looked as though they'd managed to override her filter controls. Making a note to recheck the settings, she blocked the two users and shut the laptop down.
April wandered aimlessly around the utility junction where she had lived for the last two years. Above her, she could hear traffic moving on the street. It had been nearly 3 years since her dad's disappearance and April's life had been thrown into a nightmare of chaos and cruelty. She grabbed a juice box from the sputtering mini fridge she'd found in a hotel dumpster and drank gratefully. Switching on the battery operated lamp, she gazed at the map of the city.
"Nothing yet, Dad," she whispered, "But I'll find you."
Everywhere she had searched and left a flyer with her father's picture, she had marked on the map with a dot of red ink. Most of the Long Island part of the map was in red, starting at what had been circled as "Ground Zero", the spot in their Great Neck house where she and her father had been living until he hadn't come home from work one night. At the time, April hadn't thought much about it; he'd stayed out late before, becoming so consumed by his research in chemical neurology that he'd forget everything else, but when he hadn't turned up the following evening after April had returned from school, she'd call the police. Despite an exhaustive search the police closed the case after 6 months, due to, they said, a lack of man power and funds. But April could hear the unspoken assertion of "abandonment." After that, April had gone into the foster system, bouncing from house to house until finally ending up in Queens. Families hadn't been cruel, but rather, uninterested and downright neglectful of her needs, seeking only the extra funds they would get for providing her a roof over her head. The last house was the end of the line. They had been nice enough, but the father was more than a little overfriendly and April knew she had to escape. So, she left to continue the search for her father on her own.
"Manhattan Island today," she said, placing one last dot beside La Guardia Airport and began to search for food. With a resigned sigh, April grabbed the last package of pop tarts and made a mental note to get supplies. Living alone with no family or job, April found refuge in the underground subway system just above the sewers. To find money, she collected bottles and cans and whatever stray amounts of change she came across. In the final home she'd lived in, she had made sure to take as much as she could fit in her backpack, including all the cash she could find. But the cash was reserved for printing flyers transportation throughout the city. She couldn't eat the toiletries and medicines, so she used for food whatever a haul of recycling would bring her.
"So, shopping day too," April said cheerfully. She dressed in a pair of faded ripped blue jeans she had picked out from discarded piles at the thrift store and an oversized yellow sweater that had been her mother's. Pulling her long red hair into a ponytail and slipped a locket around her neck which carried the pictures of her father and her mother. She grabbed a messenger bag full of missing person flyers and tape from her desk and, as a precaution, a large hooded yellow rain slicker and Yankees cap. Getting to the streets was easy, but April had to make sure she would not be noticed by police or security as she walked towards the more populated tunnels in the subway. April moved down through the tracks, drawing closer to the wall as she saw more and more people in the active subway stations. Pulling her Yankees hat down, she joined a crowd of people heading street level. As soon as she was far enough away, she relaxed her guard and smiled.
"Smell that fresh air, O'Neil," she said to herself, "And then, smell breakfast."
April fished out enough money from previous trips for a cup of coffee and a bagel. The warm bread took away a knot in her stomach she hadn't realized was there before. The coffee brought her senses out of the fog and she was ready to start her work.
"Hey, kid!" April turned around nervously. The purple skinned mutant salamander at the bagel cart. He was waving a handful of coins.
"You forgot your change," the salamander man said, flicking his tongue to his eyeball with a wet slap. April breathed in relief and turned back. Quickly, she disappeared into the crowd of men and women and mutants hurrying to work.
As April walked down the street, she thought about the history lessons from her days in school when mutants were considered freaks and outcasts. Mutants had been out of control, their conditions brought about by traumatic exposure to polluted waters. But Kraang Inc. had been the instrumental mover of society, creating serums and anti-toxins to combat the instability of the mutant mind. It gave those affected a chance for a normal existence, despite their looks. It also created opportunities for animals that were mutated after exposure to humans. Instead of ending up in research labs, they, too, had been allowed to live in peace under the Mutation Emancipation. Despite all of that, however, April did not trust the company that she knew contributed to her father's disappearance.
"Excuse me, miss," a voice behind April said. She came face to face with a fish-like mutant and a mousy woman who seemed to be his wife. They were dressed in a comical stereotype of a tourist, complete with a large camera around the man's neck and a fanny pack around the wife's waist.
"Could you tell us how to get to Carnegie Hall from here?" the man asked. April smiled.
"Practice," April said. A few mingling people chuckled at the old joke, but the tourists seemed clueless. April sighed and pointed down the street.
"Head west down 57th Street until you get to 7th Avenue and then turn left," April said. Then, she handed the tourists a flyer.
"If you happen to see this man," she said, "Please give him the flyer."
The tourists nodded and walked down the street. April secured the rest of the flyers in her bag and hurried up 3rd Avenue.
It was after 4:00 pm when April leaned against a bus stop partition, panting. She'd had no luck finding more than a couple dollars worth of cans and bottles and had no luck with inquiries about her father's picture. Working in a zigzag pattern between 3rd Avenue and Central Park, she had moved up and the down the streets until she reached 70th Street. She was getting hungry. The bagel and coffee in her system had long since faded from her exhaustive walking up and down of the streets. Public transportation was for evenings and for when she would get further down in the city in the days ahead. April never exactly starved, but there were plenty of nights she went to bed eating less than her body needed. Early on in her times of living on her own, April had remembered The Hunger Games and how Katniss had been able to make a meal out of dandelion greens, but April didn't have much success with the venture and ended up being sick all that night and into the morning, purging herself of the dandelions and everything else she'd eaten.
"Just need a few minutes rest," she said and sat inside the bus stop. A young mother and child were there, along with a business man on his cell phone. The child looked up with innocent green eyes and April focused on her. The little girl was a mutant, a kitten by the looks of it. The mother, too, was a mutant cat. April smiled warmly at the child.
"How come you're not a mutant?" the child asked.
"Ana," the mother said reprovingly, "That's very impolite to ask." She looked apologetically at April.
"It's okay," April said, "I'm not offended. If I were her age, I probably would have asked something like it."
April looked down at the child and gave a grin.
"I'm a human because my mommy and daddy are humans," April said, "Just like your mommy is a cat to make you a cat. And some Mommies and Daddies are bears or foxes or even dogs and fish. It's just how our world is changing more and more."
The child seemed satisfied with the answer. The mother smiled again at April. April nodded and clutched her head as it gave a twang of pain.
"Are you alright, dear?" the mother asked.
"I'm fine, just a headache," said April.
"Do you want a bite of my snack?" the little girl as she held up a large rat. April gave a shudder and looked at the mother apologetically.
"Our bus is here, Ana," said the mother cat. She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle.
"You are at least welcome to this milk," she said with a smile and, taking her daughter by the hand, climbed onto the bus.
April didn't even wait to see if the mom and daughter were looking before she drank the bottle in two gulps. The coldness of it gave her head another wave of pain, but she relaxed with the feel of it going through her body. After a few more moments, April stood up and continued her trek through the city.
By the end of the day, April had collected $2.38 in cans and bottles. She wouldn't be having noodles, but she would be able to get a meal in. As she continued down East 70th Street toward Central Park, she saw a sudden rush of people racing ahead of her. April just barely got out of the way as a group of girls near her age tore down the sidewalk.
"I can't believe they're here!" she heard one girl scream. Her friend's response was a squeal of agreement.
April felt herself being pulled along, half by the crowd and half by her own curiosity. The milk was not going to be enough, but she needed to know what was going on. As she reached the corner of Park Avenue and 70th, she saw a huge crowd outside the Asia Society Museum. Camera flashes and news media were everywhere and more people were pushing up. April began to feel as though her breath would be squeezed out of her like toothpaste. She tried to push back and found herself at the front of the line just as a long black limousine pulled up in front. It didn't seem possible that the screams could be any louder as the doors opened. April stared in wonder as four man-sized upright mutant turtles climbed out and waved to the crowd.
"BOOYAKASHA, NEW YORK!" one of them shouted. April watched as mutant turtle, wearing an orange bandana over his eyes as a mask and dressed in designer jeans with a matching orange shirt waved enthusiastically. April was just able to see the other three mutants coming into sight when she felt her stomach hit the guardrail as a crowd of bodies pushed forward in a frenzy of enthusiasm.
"THAT'S RIGHT! TMNT IN THE HOUSE!" the enthusiastic turtle crowed out. April felt her ribs protesting against the wood and just managed to slide up enough so that at the next push, she felt right over the barrier and onto the sidewalk. She winced painfully as her knee scrapped on the ground.
"Hey, are you okay?" April looked up into a pair of the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen. The turtle was wearing a purple bandana over his eyes and, like his counterpart, he had on designer jeans, but he wore a blousy purple polo. This close up, April noticed that none of the turtles wore shoes.
"Can you stand?" the turtle asked. April continued to stare. Her voice seemed to have vanished with her breath, but she nodded. The turtle smiled and revealed a gap between his teeth that April found incredibly cute with his brown eyes, which seemed more burgundy now and his thin face. He helped April stand. April gave him a grateful smile.
"Thanks so much," she said. She heard the sound of approaching feet as security guards suddenly approached. April felt fear course through her and prepared to run. The turtle took her hand in his and waved at them.
"At ease, guys," the turtle said, "Just a girl who got a little too close to the edge. She's not a threat."
The guards stepped back and the turtle smiled at April. Suddenly, he seemed to realize he was holding her hand and let go quickly with silly grin.
"Come on, Donnie," one of the other turtles shouted in a brusque voice, "We don't have all day to look at this display Leo's so fired up about."
"You want to see the Feudal Japan Art Displays too, Raph," Leo said back with a smirk.
"Well, you'll be okay then," the one called Donnie said, "If you walk towards the limo, you can get out behind it without having to go back into the mosh pit there."
With a final pat on the back and a smile, Donnie joined the other turtles. The screams suddenly erupted in April's ears again. Had they stopped screaming or had she simply not noticed? She hurried towards the limo and weaved around it before any guards could direct her. She didn't stop running until she was at Park and 57th Street, her lungs finally ready to explode. The sun was starting to sink and April had not done any shopping. Digging into her pockets she pulled up the money she had earned, along with, to her shock, an extra $20. Where on earth had she gotten that?
"Donnie," she whispered but shook her head. He'd had no opportunity to hand her anything and those large hands would not have been easy to miss. But she found she couldn't dwell on it for long; she had enough money to get a decent meal for the next few days. With a joyful leap, she hurried to the 7-11.
April finished putting the last of the groceries away. She was always left with a feeling of ease and comfort when there was food around. It wasn't much and she couldn't keep as much as she'd like because of the risk of disease and rodents in the sewers, but it was more than she'd had in awhile.
"I don't know what my stomach will think I'm doing to it," April said with a laugh. She began to heat up a bowl of noodles and opened her laptop again. One perk of living at this particular utility junction was it put her within range of Rockefeller University's Wi-Fi. She pulled up Channel 6 online and listened to the news of crime, politics, sports and economics and then an entertainment story caught her attention.
"And our final story for the night," said the anchor, "The widely popular Japanese/American pop group, TMNT, is visiting New York for the Asian Society Exhibition at the museum and will be holding a live concert at the band shell in Central Park this Friday."
The new story flashed to a picture of the band and April choked on her noodles. It was the four mutant turtles she'd seen this afternoon. In the very front, waving shyly but cheerfully was Donnie. For some unknown reason, April's heart did a quick flutter. Looking at the picture, she could see the other three much closer. Leo was dressed in a white blazer and pants over a sky blue shirt, looking very Miami Vice. Leo, like the other two, wore a mask over his eyes of bright blue. Raph was dressed in artfully ripped jeans and red muscle shirt with a matching red bandana. The one in orange was named Mikey.
"Tickets are still on sale but going fast for this hot band," the anchor said, "That concludes the Happy Hour News. Please join us again for the news at 11. This is Brian Chang O'Brien Gambe wishing you a good night."
April closed the browser window and pulled up some music to lull her to sleep. She would be sleeping out in the terminal tonight. On a whim, she did a search on TMNT and pulled up a few of music videos. April recognized one of her father's favorites. It was the song he and her mother had danced to on their wedding. As the strains of "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes" floated over April, she closed her eyes and felt more relaxed than she'd ever thought she could again. The group sang it first in English and then in Japanese. They were flawless singers and harmonized well. April clicked over to the next song and kept listening. She had never heard more wonderful voices. She began to wonder how big a following the group might have in America since the songs weren't all in English, but she knew she had followed bands from Ireland with the same dedication any girl might over an American band.
A few songs later, April came across a song that listed Donnie as the singer. She recognized the title of the song; her grandparents had played it on an old phonograph when she would visit. She clicked play and began to listen. The song was in Japanese but the fact that April could not understand the words did not bother her. The voice that sang was strong and sure, with just the right touch of sweetness. April quickly dressed in her pajamas and played the song again and again, listening to the gentle melody as Donnie's voice floated over her like a soft blanket.
Ue o muite arukou
Namida ga kobore naiyouni
Omoidasu harunohi
Hitoribotchi no yoru
Ue o muite arukou
Nijinda hosi o kazoete
Omoidasu natsunohi
Hitoribotchi no yoru
Shiawase wa kumo no ueni
Shiawase wa sora no ueni
Ue o muite arukou
Namida ga kobore naiyouni
Nakinagara aruku
Hitoribotchi no yoru
As April began to drift into sleep, she allowed the tears to trickle from her eyes and into her pillow as she drifted back to days when life was simple and full of love and happiness. She wondered if those boys, those mutant turtles, could write and convey such beautiful songs because they, too, knew joy and sorrow. And April wondered how Donnie, the seemingly quiet and shy smiling turtle she had encountered today, could touch her heart so softly with his words.
Omoidasu akinohi
Hitoribotchi no yoru
Kanashimi wa hosino kageni
Kanashimi wa tsukino kageni
Ue o muite arukou
Namida ga kobore naiyouni
Nakinagara aruku
Hitoribotchi no yoru
That night, April dreamed of floating cherry blossoms and soft brown eyes.