Wow, ten chapters! It's honestly a miracle I've made it this far, usually half of my stories don't make it more than twenty pages. But it is all thanks to you guys! If it weren't for your support and your comments, this story never could've reached its one-month birthday.
Big thank you to everyone who has favorited and followed, and all my gratitude goes to Midnightsliverwolf (love your profile pic BTW!), TMNTGFKittySidekick01, lalaynahop, Something stuff, LuSilveira, C. J Robbins, TheWinterMe, all the Guests, Trash, BunniesAreNotCookies, MagicalKitsune, and Albatross Zeta for leaving one or more reviews! I cannot express fully how happy it makes me to read your thoughts on this. I know I'm getting cheesy and over the top here, so I'll stop now. But really, thank ya'll a million times over :"D
This chapter was weird for me to write. I guess it's just a twist in the storyline making me a little unsteady on my feet yet. Nevertheless, enjoy!
When Ash walks into the bus station, the first thing she hears is a disembodied voice.
Her disembodied voice.
It's distorted and muffled, crackling through a dusty speaker in the ceiling.
"When you set it all free, all free, all free…"
The next thing she notices is how dingy the place is. There's a few orange and green chairs to the left, paint chipped and legs uneven. A humming vending machine at the right flickers in and out of darkness; one stale bag of chips with an expiration date of two years ago glows orange when the light works.
She pulls her leather jacket tighter around her and joins the line in front of the desk.
"I was a girl caught under your thumb…"
She fishes a pair of sunglasses out of her pocket and throws them on.
"But my star's gonna shine brighter than your sun…"
The line inches forward. She prays not to be recognized.
By the time she gets to the front, her song is gone and replaced with Mike's crooning. She had realized a few minutes ago that, to her horror, the stupid bus station was playing the five-song collection of everyone's hits from the big concert. In January, Buster had shoved everyone into a recording studio to sing the full versions of their songs. The singles were then released on a combo CD and online.
Again, Ash wishes she hadn't let Buster drag her into that cursed studio.
"Where to, miss?" The bored beaver behind the glass has the personality of a rock, and right now Ash couldn't be more grateful for that.
"Yeah, um. One ticket for an adult to Cheetah Rapids, Iowa." At his prompt, she slides her ID under the tiny slot in the glass window.
"Round-trip or one way?"
Ash closes her eyes and steels herself. Making this decision is like standing at a fork in the path of her life. Once she's traveled too far in one direction, it'll be difficult to turn back.
"One way," she says, and hands over the money.
She doesn't have to spend much more time in that dingy bus station. After suffering through fifteen more minutes at the place— and convincing herself not to cave and buy those stale chips— she boards the bus and doesn't look back.
It's an overcast day, and not really the type of day that necessitates sunglasses. But she keeps them on anyway, because they'll at least hide the puffy redness and smeared makeup.
Ash still doesn't know for sure what her condition is. But how could Rosita possibly be wrong? She's been through this at least three times— she's basically the second-best opinion after a doctor.
And so Ash needs to get away. She's not sure what she'll do once she arrives back in her hometown. But she'll figure it out somehow.
Hours pass at the speed of days. Ash considers keeping tally marks on the window. When the bus shudders to a halt and puffs out exhaust weakly like a final breath, Ash is the first to disembark.
She's… home. Right? She could call this home. It was where she spent the first sixteen years of her life.
The bus station here is in even worse disrepair than the one back in Calatonia, so she only gives it a one disdainful look over before moving on.
A more appropriate name for Cheetah Rapids would be "Porcupine Rapids." The town is swimming with short-statured spiny mammals just like Ash. It doesn't take her long to remember one of her reasons for leaving this place: zero diversity. Any other species present is most definitely a tourist.
And yet, as much as Ash misses the diversity of Calatonia, she has to admit how nice it is to blend in for once. Even so, the sunglasses stay on.
Her first stop is the city hall. She can recall her parents' address, stored somewhere in the dusty recesses of memory, but she looks them up just in case.
Yep. Same place. 53 Hedge Avenue, also known as the dullest street on the planet.
Ash walks up the familiar front steps and lays a couple firm knocks on the porcupine-sized door.
Seconds later, the door creaks open.
"Hey, Mom," Ash mumbles, giving a cautious wave. "Long time no see."
There's silence. Then the older porcupine lunges forward and fastens a grizzled hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Ashlynn May Woods. Where the hell have you been?"
Ash teeters on the top step. "Um, well, let me in, and I'll tell you."
Her mother leans back and calls into a room to the left. "Brian, get your fat ass up and get over here! You won't believe who's bothered to come show her face after three years." She turns back and spits at Ash's feet. "You ain't no daughter of mine 'til I hear why you left us outta nowhere." She yanks Ash by the shoulder and slams the door shut, blocking all light.
Inside, it's the same dark, rundown shack Ash remembers growing up in. Her father Brian is in the living room in a broken recliner, surrounded by mountains of crumpled-up fast food wrappers. Her mother gives her another shove so that she's standing right next to the grimy television set.
"Hi, Dad," she says meekly.
The graying porcupine shifts up in his chair and narrows his eyes at her. They're still the same shade of blue that mirrors Ash's. "Humph," he grunts before sitting back and reaching for the remote.
"Now, Brian," Ash's mother marches forward to stand in front of the TV. "I told you to get off your ass and listen to what she has to say."
"It'll just be more of her goddamn excuses," Brian sighs as he leans to the left in the hopes of seeing a strip of TV screen. "She ain't got nothing left to tell us."
Hearing that is like a punch in the gut. Ash can feel herself start to keel over, yet somehow she forces her backbone to stay rigid. "Mom, Dad, I came here because I'm… I'm in some trouble."
"Oh, would you listen to that, Val! Now Ashlynn's got herself in trouble with the law. I told you it was gonna happen, but did you believe me?" Brian slammed the TV remote down on his knee in frustration. "Nope!"
Val spins back around to face Ash. "If you would just take off those damn sunglasses"— Ash obliges— "and tell us why you're back here to burden us again."
Ash swallows. "I'll just get a hotel—"
"No, you came to us and you're staying here. Brian, up! If I have to tell you again I'll pull out every one of your quills, one at a goddamn time."
A few minutes later, they're situated at the tiny kitchen table. Ash is practically grinding her teeth into a pulp, feeling uncomfortable under the laser-like stares of her parents. Something in her mind suggests small talk, and foolishly she accepts it.
"So… I see you still have the same old TV, Dad," she mumbles.
"Sure do," Brian replies tartly. "Dunno if I ever told you this, but I was saving up to buy a new television what was it, nineteen years ago?" A vicious smirk appears on his face. "And then you were born, and my entire TV budget went toward you. Damn shame."
Ash lowers her head as she feels her stomach twist. Rosita's words echo again in her mind, and her heart pounds. "I'm sorry," she says. "But it's not my fault for being born."
"And it ain't my fault you're such a damn sass," Brian spits back.
"What've you been doing with your life anyway?" Val demands. She gets up and begins to move about the cramped kitchen, reaching in the freezer and plopping something into the microwave. When she plugs in a few numbers into the rusty appliance, it starts up with a reluctant screeeeech.
"I'm a singer," Ash tells them.
"A singer?" her mother scoffs. "What are you singing, jingles for the local car dealership?"
Ash winces at the grating sound of the microwave. "No, I have a single out and I'm employed at a… prestigious theater out in Los Angeles."
"Right," Val says. Her tone makes it clear she has no faith in Ash's statement. "And how does this 'single' of yours go?"
"Allow me," Ash says as she bends over to retrieve her guitar case, "to demonstrate."
For some reason, her parents sit through the entirety of "Set It All Free." She plays her guitar gently like an acoustic, and the song doesn't sound half-bad at a lower decibel. It's like going back to her very early stages of writing it. When she's done, they sit silent for several long moments. The microwave's horrible scraping is the only noise.
Then her father goes, "Well, holy shit. You really can sing."
"Whatever happened to all that emo crap you used to do covers of in your room?" Val laughs. "That sounded like velociraptor screeching."
That is a very familiar insult. Now Ash realizes why she locks horns with Mike so much. He's like a younger and much smaller version of her mother all wrapped up in a furry, white, fedora-wearing package.
Val pulls out a bubbling container of mac and cheese from the greasy depths of the microwave oven. She carries the thawed frozen dinner over to the table and pulls out two plates from the cupboard. It takes a second for it to sink in to Ash that she isn't getting fed.
"Mom, could I please have some?"
"No, Ashlynn. How can you possibly be starving? If anything, you look like you've gained weight." Her mother settles into a chair and pulls a heaping forkful to her mouth. "If you must open that pretty lil' mouth of yours, then put your voice to good use and sing."
They don't hate her singing. Ash relaxes a little bit. The insult about her weight stings and terrifies her at the same time, but as long as her singing is fine, then she can deal with her parents. At least for now.
Maybe leaving Calatonia isn't the worst idea she's come up with. She pulls her guitar back into her lap and ignores her churning stomach. There are other worries she can get to later.
For now, she'll do what she can do best.
oo0oo
The buildings around Johnny are a blur. It's like a giant squirted different paint colors onto his thumb, then smeared them over the landscape.
He's never skateboarded this fast before, not even with Ash. He isn't sure what exactly is tossing in extra vigor into his step today. But what he is sure of is that he needs to get to the theater as soon as possible.
Ash didn't show up to the theater yesterday. Or the day before that, or the day before that. Rosita's comforting statement was "She's probably just sick," but that expired when Buster informed them she hadn't called in to say that.
Johnny careens around a corner, grabbing a wooden post as the turn briefly spins out of control. He saves himself from sailing right into the middle of traffic and continues along the street.
He went to her apartment yesterday and knocked on the door again and again until his knuckles were screaming in agony. He's still amazed they didn't bleed.
Knock, knock. No answer. Knock, knock. Nothing. Knock, knock, knock! Where is she?
For the love of all things good, pure, and holy, where the fuck is that porcupine?
This situation is made worse by the hurricane of conflicting emotions currently ravaging her mind. For all Johnny knows, she could've done something drastic. She could've really hurt herself.
Johnny would turn his skateboard toward the busy four-way intersection he just passed, if it meant he could obtain a key into Ash's place. If he had to bludgeon himself to death using his body to bust down her door, he sure as hell would. The worry for her, his girl, that is consuming him at this moment is fiery enough to burn down a hundred forests.
Jeez, he should really write these thoughts down.
When he arrives at the theater, the entire group minus Ash is gathered on the stage. Their voices are hushed whispers that fail to travel to Johnny's ears through the cavernous room.
The gorilla tosses his skateboard to the side and rushes up the steps to the others.
"What is it? Do you know where she is?" he demands.
Slowly they all turn to face him. Even Mike looks perturbed. Rosita, however, has the most upset look out of everyone.
"What?" Johnny asks.
"Johnny…" Rosita takes a deep breath. "I know you're worried about Ash. She's your best friend, and Meena's, so of course you would be. We're scared for her, too. I just don't know where she is."
Best friend. Those two words are like a scalding hot burn. His cheek tingles as if he's been slapped. Ash is more than that now. He knows Rosita didn't mean it as an insult, but it feels like one nonetheless.
"But I think I might know why she's gone."
"You do?" Johnny leaps forward and wraps his longer fingers around Rosita's arms.
"It's not my place to tell you," Rosita says, treading carefully, "but I swear I will use my knowledge to the best of my ability. We will find her, Johnny. And if we don't find her by tonight, we can report her missing to the police."
Eddie's frown deepens. "Have you all tried contacting her in every way possible? Cellphone, e-mail, snail mail… does she have a landline?"
Gunter rests his hooves on his wide hips, glittery tracksuit blinding under the glare of the stage lights. "Wat year do you think eet ees, Eedie? 1982?"
Buster shakes his head swiftly. "No nineteen-year-old has a landline phone."
Johnny stops listening to the brooding adults for a moment and steps away. He produces his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He jabs his finger repeatedly against the screen until he comes to Ash's contact. He hits the green call button and waits.
And waits.
And waits.
And waits.
He's never despised that stupid ring tone more than right now. Johnny only stays on the line so he can hear her voicemail message. Her voice is like music to his ears, even when she's not repeating lyrics.
"Hey, Ash here. I guess you missed me this time around, but you can call me back soon and hopefully I'll pick up. Catch you later."
He slides his phone back into a random pocket and rejoins the group, utterly lost.
Much later that day, it's well past ten p.m. and Johnny is slumped in the corner of his and Ash's rehearsal room. When the door creaks open, he doesn't pay any attention at first to the newcomer.
"Johnny?"
He glances up. It's Meena. She's approaching him cautiously, as if he's an active volcano or gone rabid. Her large ears fold in toward her face to cover her eyes.
"Yes, Meena?"
His friend slides down against the wall and collapses next to him. "I don't know what to do."
"I don't know either." He runs his hands over his face and rubs his irritated eyes. Every time he blinks, it feels like the insides of his eyelids are made of sandpaper scraping at his corneas. "She's never pulled an act like this before."
"I just hope she's okay…"
"And what is Rosita hidin', anyway? What secret is so important between them that she can't tell us?"
"I- I'm not sure," Meena tells him. It takes him a second to notice she's trembling.
"Ah, c'mere." He drapes his jacket around her shoulders. Today was a brisk day for July— yet even if it were a hundred degrees today, it's doubtful Johnny would shed his precious leather. He treats it like a fragile second skin.
Neither speak for a while. The silence is oddly comforting to Johnny, wrapping around him like a warm blanket. He's so immersed in this blanket that he doesn't notice Meena rest her head on his shoulder.
"Johnny."
"Yeah?"
"I- I've been wondering something for a while now… a- and I was hoping you could put my worries to rest," Meena begins. The shaking of her body transfers to her voice, and her words stumble over each other clumsily.
Johnny dips his head. "Okay, what's up?"
Meena squeezes her eyes shut. "Are you and Ash…" She interlaces her toes a few times for emphasis. "… l- like, are you two a… a thing?"
"Oh." He curls his fingers into fists. "How… how did you… how did you guess?"
She lifts her head away from him to look in his eyes. He wishes the blue in her eyes could be as vibrant as Ash's, but the shade of Meena's gaze only pales in comparison.
"You're going crazy worrying about her. I mean, have you even slept the past few nights?" At his headshake no, she goes on. "And I… heard you two a little while ago." She points to the windowless wall facing her and Mike's rehearsal room. "Mike was out, so I was alone. I heard… noises. Through that wall."
A hot blush spreads fast, searing Johnny's face like a hot iron. He hides his face behind his hands. "I'm so sorry, Meen. That was… inappropriate of us."
"No, no, don't worry about it." The elephant tugs at her ears, then gulps audibly. "But just to make sure… you guys w- weren't… doing anything more, right? L- like it was just…"
"Yeah." Johnny scratches the back of his neck. "Just kissin', I swear." More like making out passionately on the floor in the middle of a mess of music sheets, and in full view of any passerby looking hard enough, he thinks to himself. Luckily it's not too difficult for him to hold the words back.
"Okay." Meena nibbles on her lip. Then, to his surprise, she reaches out and gives his hand a squeeze. "That's good to hear."
"It is?"
"That makes me even more determined to find her." The beginnings of a grin peek out from behind her trunk. "I can't have my two best friends in the world be apart."
Johnny lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Relief overwhelms him, and for the first time in three days, he smiles.