"Such an exquisite marriage of flavors and textures. Something savory, salty, and smooth, yet subtle enough that it highlights the explosive sweetness and tartness of its counterpart, cool and slick, all between rich softness that becomes the perfect vehicle for a sublime combination. Its simplicity is elegant, with an endless array of possibilities in the thickness or thinness of either primary ingredient. I have only learned the words for it, and yet they seem to pale to the task of describing the experience!" gushed Jade.
Connie stuffed the plastic bag that had contained her peanut butter and jelly sandwich back into her backpack. She sat at the top of the back stairwell at school, kicking her feet through the lonely sunbeam shining on the tile. "I'm glad you liked it. I'll be sure to pass the compliment to my Mom."
As she dug around in her bag for this week's old paperback reread, she heard Jade scoff amidst a swell of indignation. "You are being sarcastic! I can feel the disingenuousness inside of you, human. Mock me if you will, but I think your necessitated relationship with food has left you indifferent to the everyday wonders gracing your mouth. And you should indeed compliment your matron for the meal."
Grinning, Connie said, "You're right. I should. But I feel like I need to remind you that, four days ago, you were ready to 'forcibly evacuate' any unapproved food out of our body. Now you're turning into a regular foodie. You're going to make me take you to one of those gourmet bistros that charge a hundred dollars for the same sandwich we just ate."
"I did happen to note the location of several such establishments that are conveniently located on our same continent," admitted Jade. Then, as Connie's hand closed around the spine of her book, the Gem said, "Aha! Leave that transcribed nonsense where it lies, human. I have taken the liberty of preparing our luncheon's entertainment. Please refer to the music-playing application on your communicator."
A swipe of her thumb opened the uTūnz app on Connie's phone, where she found a slew of new playlists. Each list contained dozens of songs with names and artists she didn't recognize. "Whoa! You made all of these? There must be hundreds of songs here!"
Pride shone inside Connie's chest, twisting through ribbons of anticipation. "There are three hundred and forty-two new songs, and I've prepared compilations according to genre, thematic content, and mood. I had hoped you might listen to them with me to gauge your reaction. My own exploration of human music has been enlightening, but it would please me to know their effect on you as well. For contextual reasons, of course," Jade said.
Connie's own mirth turned to ash as a realization struck her. "Jade, how did you get all these songs? My parents would have noticed if there were charges for all of them."
"Yes, I saw that there were monetary expectations for in-application usage. Luckily I discovered a plethora of means by which to acquire the recordings of these songs without requiring any such exchange. There were helpful informational diatribes made by humans providing instruction on the process."
The delectable sandwich inside of Connie began to lurch. Queasily, she looked down at the playlist and did some rough math. At ninety-nine cents per song, there was easily music enough to eclipse several months' worth of her allowance. She imagined the police battering down their front door and arresting her, parading her in front of a mob of cameras and reporters while her parents watched in tears. An imaginary judge sentenced her to lifetimes in prison, where the only music to be had would be the percussive stamp of the machines that made license plates. Her family name would be tarnished forever. Her parents would be forced to flee the country and change their name while their daughter grew old and gray behind bars.
"You stole all this music?" Connie whimpered.
Jade scoffed in silence. "What a ridiculous notion. You cannot 'steal' music any more than you could steal the words spoken by another."
Swallowing hard, Connie clenched her hands to quell their shaking. If the police hadn't contacted them yet, it was possible that the crime hadn't been discovered. She heard classmates talking about downloading music all the time, and none of them had gone to prison yet as far as Connie knew. Perhaps if she were discovered, she could get away with just probation and community service. "You have to promise me not to download any more music, Jade. We could get in big trouble if you do," she said. Then, with another thought, she added, "Besides, Steven's dad is a music expert. He used to make music for a living, and he has all kinds of different music in his collection."
Reverent awe swallowed Jade's arrogance. "The hybrid's patriarch makes music too?" she whispered.
Her heart rate easing, Connie said, "Besides, I can't exactly play music here. We're not supposed to be here during lunch, and everyone will be able to hear."
The arrogance returned. "Check the very bottom of your tome receptacle, human," she instructed Connie.
When Connie did so, she found another surprise in the form of a vinyl bag that contained their Blastmaster headphones. As distraught as she was at being made an accessory to digital grand larceny, Connie couldn't help but smirk. "Did you put these in here last night? You're becoming quite the sneak, Jade," she said.
"Any scout or explorer knows the value of discretion," said Jade.
As Connie tugged at the drawstrings of the bag, her phone buzzed with a new message. Curious, she checked the phone's face. Steven knew not to text her during school for anything less than an emergency, and her parents wouldn't text her unless they had suddenly and drastically changed their opinion on the practice. So she was doubly surprised to find a text from Jeff waiting for her on the screen:
found sumthng awsome 4 syfy club check it out bb cort?
She grimaced at the spelling in the message and made a mental note to mock Jeff mercilessly for it. He kept showing her the comics he doodled in class, all of them with clever dialogue for their thinly-veiled caricatures of the teachers and staff at the school. Evidently he couldn't muster any remaining editing for his texts. "Let's save the ill-gotten music for later. My friend Jeff wants to show me something downstairs."
"Your friend? We have always required a lengthy journey to visit the hybrid," Jade protested as Connie clambered to her feet.
"What? No, not Steven. Jeff, my friend here at school. I talk to him all the time," Connie said, and hoisted her backpack. "Do you seriously not know the difference between them?"
"I cannot be bothered with names. Besides, you anthropoids look more or less alike, human. The differences between you all are largely semantical," Jade said dismissively. "The hybrid's gemstone is not even readily visible in most instances. He may as well be human too."
"Jeff didn't tell me that he switched his lunch period," Connie grumbled, though with little genuine annoyance. "It'd be nice to have someone to eat with for a change."
"I take exception to your sentiment," Jade huffed.
Rolling her eyes, Connie retorted, "Again, you hated food until four days ago. So you can eat your hurt feelings with the next sandwich, because I don't want to hear it."
Wry bemusement rippled up where Connie had expected to feel betrayal. "Your species' proclivity for cruelty overrides even as generous a nature as yours, I see. Even the human who denied herself the joys of food for so many weeks has her limits."
"And here I thought the real cruelty was what happened to the food on the other end of the process," Connie teased.
Silence thundered as they descended the stairs, a silence so long that Connie wondered if she had crossed a line with her words. But just as she was about to apologize, Jade's voice arose in her mind as scant more than a whisper. "May I confess something to you, human? I…have come to enjoy our various ablutions."
Connie missed a step, staggering so badly that she had to grab the railing. "Was that a joke?" she said.
"I do not refer to the acts themselves," Jade said quickly, "and especially not your waste management rituals, the volume and frequency of which has increased dramatically and disgustingly since your return to a regular diet."
"Food doesn't stay food once it gets inside," Connie agreed.
"Quite. But the results of the 'act,' and the teeth-brushing, and daily showering, leave me feeling cleaner. They make me closer to my best self. Our best selves, rather."
A tiny ache panged in Connie's sock. She thought back to the morning shower, where she'd discovered a second little brown bruise, or spot, or whatever it was, marring her ankle. The one in her elbow had yet to fade, and this new mark worried her. Connie didn't know how to explain it to Jade because she didn't understand it herself. Nothing like it had ever happened before. And the one doctor she could think to ask couldn't know because of her secret passenger.
Maybe it was finally time to stop lying to her parents. Maybe, after dinner, when Jade was feeling full and pleased and distracted, she could explain to the Gem why her parents deserved to know the truth. Because even if these odd bruises didn't make her feel uneasy, her parents still deserved to know.
Connie pushed the thought to the back of her mind for later as they reached the bottom floor. As with eating outside of the cafeteria, students were disallowed from leaving the building, but the rule was only sporadically enforced. Students could play a pickup game of basketball or sit outside and enjoy the sunshine as long as they didn't cause trouble. It made the court behind the school a popular spot during lunch.
But as Connie left the back door of the school, the concrete court stood empty. A light breeze whistled through the chain link fence surrounding the property, with cars mumbling by on the street beyond. Connie looked to either side but saw no one. Curious, she checked her phone again, and then sent a message back asking Jeff where he was.
The concrete by the basketball hoop post chimed, turning Connie's head. She saw a black rectangle laying on the ground and went to investigate it. The shape was a phone lying abandoned on the ground with her message to Jeff still glowing in its face.
Two bad feelings rose up inside of her. Jade gave voice to one, saying, "Human, this is wrong. Withdraw."
Then Connie heard footfalls crunching softly behind her, and knew too late that Jade was right. Three girls stood behind her, spread apart to form a line between Connie and the school's back door. They all wore gym shorts and T-shirts, garments with the school's mascot and seal on them that were sold at every school function. One of the girls wore a baseball cap over her chestnut hair and a store-bought Guy Fawkes mask. Another wore an unseasonable ski mask pulled over her head. Both of them carried heavy, drooping book bags in one hand, half-dragging them across the ground.
The girl in the middle wore a designer scarf wrapped around her head so that only her sparkling blue eyes peered out from the folds. She held up an expensive phone, aiming its lens at Connie, as she sneered, "Time for a makeover, Big Nose."
Guy Fawkes and Ski Mask scooped bulbous shapes out from their bags and flung them at Connie. Instinct made Connie spin out of the shapes' way, where they burst and splashed against the concrete, spraying liquid color that splattered into a long, wide shape across the court, red and blue. She could smell the liquid even from several paces away. The balloons had been filled with paint.
Connie moved quickly, but these projectiles were no dodgeballs she could deflect, and her two attackers spread to either side of her to box her in while their ringleader filmed the attack. A near shot splashed up over Connie's shoe, soaking the cuff of her slacks and her sock in yellow. She slipped in the puddle even as another balloon careened at her stomach.
The wind exploded in front of her, carrying her hair forward as it caught the balloon in mid-flight and reversed its course. Guy Fawkes yawped as her own balloon hammered her in the mask, throwing her back onto the court, where she lay groaning.
Blinded by her own hair, Connie listened to the other girl moaning and felt a stab of real fear. Even as she reeled with confusion for the attack, she knew what the Gem inside of her could really do if she got carried away protecting them. "Jade, don't—" she started to say.
Ski Mask hurled a balloon into the back of Connie's head. Her eyes were pasted shut with hair and burning paint. She lurched at the impact of another balloon that soaked her shirt, the tang of it acrid in her mouth. When Connie clawed her eyes open again, she saw Guy Fawkes back on her feet with her arm extended before the sight of a green balloon careening at Connie eclipsed the rest of the world.
The balloon exploded across Connie's face. Paint shot up her nose, burning in her sinuses. It pasted her eyes shut again and choked her windpipe. As she lost her footing, she heard cackles of glee coming from all around her.
Then her head struck concrete. A blast of cold pain radiated through her skull. The world spun with colors, and her body tingled, nerves shooting with something that felt like music.
"Get away from me!" Jade screamed.
Her arms and legs left. Weak things. Unneeded. Her eyes were imprecise. She forgot them too. Sheets. Sheets were better. They were the first thing she had learned to summon. She made her sheets, tearing through the woven plant matter despoiling her form, casting it aside. Her sheets folded themselves into legs, and she surged forward, their ends carving precise little craters into the processed stone beneath her.
The attackers screamed. Their discipline broke. Pathetic. The two with the strange artillery broke ranks to run. Their commander stood frozen, the communicator dropping from its pink touch stubs.
Folded sheets broke the ground as she skittered forward and overtook the commander. More sheets on her back folded into pincers that grabbed the commander, who screamed and fell. Its head-covering caught on the claw and tore away to reveal a perfect, pretty face that was wet and twisted in fear, with waves of golden hair framing it.
One snap of the claws would tear that pretty head from its shoulders. Then she could hunt down the artillery soldiers and dispose of them as well.
Except some part of her screamed at the notion. NO! She shouldn't. She couldn't. An image arose with the scream inside of her: it was a gray cliff and an old temple carved in the shape of a guardian. It was important. It could save her.
No, not save. It did not hold salvation. It was danger. It was the true threat! It would be destroyed. Wind and claw would tear it to the ground, toss it into the surf, bury it, crush it, kill it!
Tossing aside the squalling pink thing in her claw, she folded her sheets into wings and summoned a wind to carry her into the sky. She didn't know where she was, but she knew where she was going, and it was close by.
NO, the scream inside her begged.
But the song vibrating through her drowned out the voice: three beautiful notes in perfect harmony that told her she was right.
