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Have you seen Callie a̶n̶d̶ M̶̶ ̶ %̶?
Who hasn't?
Fame, fans, fortune, t̶h̶e̶y̶'v̶e̶ she's got it all! I wish I was hert̶h̶e̶m̶
I'm not sure I'd want it.
Why not? T̶h̶e̶y̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ she has everything!
Yeah, but it must be hard to know your friends are real
When everyone knows your name already.
Callie sits alone in the cafeteria, her eyes on her plate, the music of synths and saxophone urging her to eat. Burger and fries, it should be delicious, but the burger's bun squishes in a way that reminds her of mushrooms when she picks it up, and the burger itself is dried out, grainy and crumbly, and no amount of ketchup or mustard helps. If anything, they make it taste worse, because they don't taste right either.
She's alone, at the moment, with Harbor off to visit Marina. The mysterious Mr. Fish will make his first appearance at the season finale, just a few weeks away now, but she hasn't managed to break into the tight group of actors who've been here since the first season. She's the villain, and them—the group of heroes and assistants—want nothing to do with her off set.
The next bite of burger sticks in her throat, and she swallows a second time, then a third. Maybe tomorrow she'll try the pizza. That was... it was someone's favorite, not hers, but...
Callie abandons the cafeteria, her food half eaten, and goes to her room, opens the laptop. She has tons of fan e-mail, complimenting her, asking what comes next, when's her next concert, but she only responds to eight before it becomes too much and she realizes she's been staring at the wall, not seeing anything.
She talked to her parents this morning, to Gramps yesterday. She has no one else she can call, but there's an ache of missing someone that won't go away, and Callie sits on the bed, her back to the wall, and hugs her knees to her chest.
She's not going to cry. She's not. This is what she wanted, since she was just a blob of ink, since before she entered that singing contest. This is what she wanted, everything she wanted, and she presses her forehead to her knees and sniffs because she's crying anyway, the tears getting stuck swimming by her eyes before slipping down her cheeks, soaking her knees.
She's alone, and she's famous, and she's alone, and she has fans, and she's alone, she's making so many people happy every day and she's alone.
This is what she wanted. This is what she wanted, to be on stage or on TV, fans surrounding her, in an apartment where she can always hear someone else's music, today a violin and snare drum combination that makes her want to stop crying. Cheer up, sit up. Be efficient, be resilient.
This is what she wanted.
Callie takes a deep breath and pulls her head away from her legs, and it's like a flood as she sits up, a hundred or more tears gushing down her cheeks at once, even though Callie's sure she's stopped. She takes a deep breath, and releases it. Another.
Sing. She should sing, something just for her, something to raise her spirits. No one is around to hear, so it doesn't matter if her voice wobbles, or how terrible the song is. Ya weni marei...
As Callie sings, the world flickers. She stops for a second, but... if she's going insane, isn't it better to face it? To know? So she keeps singing, sees cold blank stone behind her beautiful walls; her desk, just metal, bare and shoddy; her bed, tattered gray blankets over one of her massive pink pillows; the door like that of a prison. Like she's seeing different things with different eyes, but it stays even when she closes one. This doesn't seem like insanity. What is—
A sharp burst of pain sears through Callie's temples, and she cries out, slapping her hands to them and—and it's gone.
Callie lowers her hands, and looks around her room, white walls covered in pictures and solid wood desk and bed wrinkled from sitting on it. Beside her is her laptop. What was she doing?
She picks up her laptop, and it's asleep. That only happens if she doesn't touch it for... goodness, she couldn't have been distracted that long unless she fell asleep. Fell asleep answering mail again. But... her head...
Maybe Callie will just go to bed early. Yeah.
But as she changes into her pajamas, Callie finds herself humming a song that isn't hers. She can't remember where she heard it. But it's comforting all the same. Moranife teyuruni...
Maybe something her parents sang her.