AN: Standard disclaimer applies. The Suite Life of Zack and Cody reference is not mine. Shakers are like Easter egg-shaped maracas with no handles. If you need to know what a tambourine is, look it up. All other interesting notes are at the end.
Wheels in Motion: Layla
Of course, my great suggestion was met with immediate opposition. It figures since everyone but me is pretty much stuck in a certain social stigma. Okay, I'm lying. It's probably because they don't like performing.
"Fuck that," said you-know-who, settling down on the couch and looking grumpy. He swiped some potato chips off the table, inspecting them carefully before putting them in his mouth. Proceeding to ignore me, he flipped through the songbook some more.
Yuri gave me an uneasy look. "I don't think so. I mean, what would we do anyway?"
I sighed. You had to love Yuri for her random complete imbecilic tendencies. "Sing, of course," I replied.
She wrinkled her nose. "Sing what?"
I shrugged. "I don't know." Just then, I had a terrific idea. I was just popping up with them left and right. Of course, you have to be on your toes around these people, maybe that's where it all comes from. "Warren can write a song!"
He glared at me and repeated, around his mouthful of chip, "Fuck. That."
Rolling my eyes at him, I turned back to Yuri. "And I bet you could write the music. You have a piano here and I know you learned to play guitar and everything. I mean, you must have gleaned something from all those years in band."
"Well…" I could tell I was wearing her down. Who says the only power I have is control over plants?
"You guys could totally win! Plus, you'll have a few months to practice. It's not until the middle of February," I added, getting excited.
Maj leaned in. "Hey, if you guys do it, I can play 'set," she said, picking up a pencil and twirling it between her fingers.
We all turned to look at her. "You play percussion?" asked Ethan.
She nodded. "My cousin had a band last, last summer and I learned from one of his friends," she explained. Smirking, she added, "He was hott."
"Well, I can play base," Zach interjected, attempting to give Maj a smoldering glance. It didn't really work. "Really, I can!" he exclaimed when we looked at him doubtfully. "My dad taught me."
"Hey, we can all form a band!" Ethan declared excitedly.
My eyes widened; this was not what I had in mind.
"I can play keyboard," he added. "I had lessons when I was a kid."
"Popsicle," Warren interrupted, "you're still a kid and we are not forming a band because I refuse." That statement seemed to put a damper on the mood and pretty much end the conversation.
Sighing, Will stood and popped in whatever DVD he'd brought since it was his turn to choose.
Deciding I would risk performing onstage to see Warren and Yuri use their talents (other than the fireball-throwing and ancient space alien variety), I tuned out the opening credits and began planning an all-powerful plan of coercion. Because my power of coercion was all-powerful. Cue sinister music…oh wait, that was just the movie. Darn.
The next day, after space botany, I found Warren in his usual spot for break: the school library. For a teenage rebel, Warren was actually very well-read. Probably because his mother co-owned a book store. Also probably the reason for his poetry-writing skills. Hm.
I commandeered the seat next to him and he glanced up, acknowledged my presence, and went back to his book. This week it was Tolkien. Last week, it had been Sheldon and next week it would probably be Updike…and then maybe Virgil. None of us quite understood why, exactly, he read novels in alphabetic order of author's last names, but Warren was just sort of anal-retentive-weird like that.
"So, hi," I chirped, taking out my history book.
He sighed and closed The Hobbit. "What are you up to?"
"Me?" I asked, trying to look as innocent as possible.
"Yes you," he replied, glancing knowingly at me. "You have that look, the one that says you're up to something I won't like."
I feigned offense. "You don't like my suggestions?" I asked, mock-hurt filling my voice. Of course, I probably had a scheming look in my eyes. I made a mental note to remedy that.
Meanwhile, Warren gave me a blank stare. "Let's see," he began, "first it was take you to homecoming to get back at Will who didn't go to homecoming; then it was pretend to be Yuri's new boyfriend, getting called a high-school-dropout and a pouf; and now it's…" He stopped and thought. "Well, what is it?"
I bit my lip. He did have a point. "I think it would be a really good idea for you and Yuri to write a song for the talent show."
He scowled, rolling his eyes. "Not that again."
"I'm serious!" I exclaimed, indignant.
"What would I write about anyway?" he asked. "Some mushy, lovey-dovey shit?" He snorted in disgust. "In case you haven't noticed," he pointed out, "I'm not really that kind of guy."
I gave him a skeptic look. "So that love poem at Yuri's just sort of popped out of midair?" I asked.
Warren scowled again. "Hey, that was an assignment. I don't go around writing stuff like that all the time."
I gave him another look; one that clearly said 'I don't believe you.'
"I'm serious," he defended, huffily going back to Tolkien.
"Let me see your notebook," I ordered.
"What?" he looked at me incredulously.
"Show me your notebook," I repeated. I was going to nail him as a softie; I just knew it. Bwahaha. I was going to have the ultimate blackmail on Warren Peace, for future use at any time, and there was nothing he could do about it. I must have been emanating some kind of divine light, I was so pleased with myself. My fingers, with a mind all their own, reached for his bound paper tablet.
"…no." He slid the book out of my reach.
"Come on, Warren," I pouted. No one can resist my pout. No one. "Please?"
"No."
Damn. "Why not. It's not as if you have any more love poems in there, right?" I asked, snatching it from his bag. Haha. Okay, so the pout doesn't always disarm. But it does distract.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, making a grab for his stolen possession.
I flipped to a page near the front. Scrawled in his slanted, untidy handwriting was yet another poem. Many words crossed out, re-written, and crossed out again littered the lined page. I ran a finger under the words and couldn't help doing the sickeningly sweet 'aww.'
the
dreams
they
keep coming
the
nameless angel
she
whispers in the dark
the
magic of the stars
the
shapeless fear
drawing ever closer
it
comes.
I re-read the poem and suppressed a giggle. "Warren Peace," I declared, "you straight-faced liar."
He 'hmph'ed and glared at me, obviously irritated. "What?"
"This is really good," I told him. "You should write a song for the show. I'm serious."
He looked doubtful. "What did Yuri say when you asked her?"
I bit my lip again. "Well…I haven't spoken with her yet…"
"When you have her answer, come see me," he said firmly, swiping his book and leaving for his next class.
I sat back, checking my watch. One down…
I found Yuri later that afternoon sitting on the school steps, in her own little world. She was bobbing her head to, I checked her iPod, Earth, Wind, and Fire when I took a seat beside her. She didn't notice me until I tapped her shoulder and whispered 'Boo.'
"Hey!" she exclaimed, startled. "Oh," she sighed, "it's just you. Sorry." Scooting over, she motioned to the space beside her. "Here, have a sat."
Accepting the invitation, I set my bag down. "So, the talent show," I said.
When she didn't answer, I looked over at her. Rolling my eyes at her, I pulled the earphones off her head. "Hey, I'm talking to you."
Blinking, she looked at me like an abandoned puppy. "But…I was listening to that…" Boogie Wonderland may have been captivating, but I needed her undivided attention in order to have blackmail against Warren Peace for all time. Hem, and to strengthen the bonds of friendship which hold us all together…and to encourage the gifts that Yuri and Warren have been given instead of hiding them away because of social stigmas and dislike of large crowds.
Ignoring her pout, I handed the earphones back and repeated my statement. "Have you thought about the talent show?" I asked, fiddling with the blades of grass around our feet.
Shutting off her iPod, she leaned back, looking at the sky. "No, not really." Swinging her legs, she looked back to me. "I mean, I don't really perform."
"Stage fright?" I asked.
"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I just never thought it would suit me, you know?" Yuri shrugged. "I mean…well, you know, because of what we are; and what if something happened and I accidentally powered up at a gig? Or if something happened at the gig and I had to choose between the whole 'save the people' or 'keep my identity' thing? I don't know. I just…" she trailed off, shrugging again.
"Well, would you do it?" I pressed.
She flopped backwards. "Maybe. Did you ask Warren? Because I can't write to save my life," she explained.
I sighed heavily. "He said to ask you first."
Yuri bit her lip. "What about everyone else?"
"Well," I began, "Maj, Ethan, and Zach said they'd be your band." I looked at her hopefully.
"What about you and Will?" she asked, sitting up.
"Oh," I shook my head, " neither of us really…we can't…well, I don't really have a sense for music."
Yuri looked pensive. "How about…if you can convince Will to do it, I say yes. Oh, and if you do it too."
I wrinkled my nose. Why couldn't people just give me straight answers?
Sidling up to my boyfriend as we studied later that night, I smiled sweetly at him. "Will, sweetheart," I began.
He gave me a tentative smile, probably wondering if he'd done anything wrong recently. "Yes?" I could see him ticking the things off in his head. 'Bought flowers for Valentine's day, remembered the anniversary, remembered the birthday, finished the Christmas shopping…'
"Let's do the talent show," I replied, looking up at him.
"Huh?" He looked at me like I'd grown another head. "But…I can't…do anything like…that…"
"Let's make that band like we were saying at Yuri's house," I suggested, snuggling up to him. That always worked. I think. …maybe.
"Well…" Haha, my plans always worked. "…what would we do?"
Damn. "Um…you can play the…the…shakers!" I exclaimed. "And I'll play the tangerine!"
Will looked at me funny. "The tangerine?"
"Tan…tan…tan…" I wrinkled my nose, trying to remember what the instrument with the baby cymbals on a wooden circle was called.
"Tambourine?" he suggested.
"Yes!" I exclaimed. "The tambourine."
He scratched his neck. "I don't know…"
"Please," I pleaded. "Yuri said she'd do it if we did."
"Do we always do what people tell us to do, like good little teenagers?" he asked playfully, tugging on my pigtails.
I rolled my eyes. "No. But I think it would be really good for Warren and Yuri to be able to use their non-superpower talents for positive pursuits." Smiling at my boyfriend, I patted myself on the back (internally, of course). It sounded a lot better without the 'blackmail on Warren for life' part.
He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not."
Throwing my arms around Will's neck, I kissed his cheek. "Thank you." I sighed heavily. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
He sighed, a crooked smile appearing on his lips. "No problem."
I caught up to Yuri the next day before Mad Science as she shuffled along, looking rather depressed. I made a mental note to ask her if this depression was based on the 'boyfriend incident'; for now, I was on a mission. "So, Will said he'd do it," I told her.
She looked at me for a minute, trying to figure out what I was talking about. "Oh." She thought a while longer. "Oh…the talent show." She stopped walking and fiddled with the straps on her bag.
I nodded, walking back the few steps to where she stood. "So you have to do it now," I smirked.
"Aww…" she slumped against the lockers, "well, I didn't really mean…"
"Please?" I pouted.
"Oh, all right," she replied. Why is it my pout works on everyone but Warren? "I'll start writing the music tonight…"
Hugging Yuri, I dragged her to class. Two down, one to go.
I didn't have a chance to talk to Warren in school so I decided to visit him at work. I knew for a fact that he took his dinner break at five-thirty and pushed determinedly through the door at five-thirty-five.
Sitting down at the corner table he was occupying, I smiled. "Hi."
He looked up at me, a tiny shadow of a grin on his face. That meant he was having a pretty good day. "Hi."
"Yuri said she'd do it."
This was met with a similar reaction to Yuri's as Warren attempted to recall exactly what Yuri was supposed to agree to do, in other words, utter confusion. Then he brightened. "My history project?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes. "No, the talent show."
Warren's face fell. "Oh."
"Now, will you do it?" I asked expectantly.
He sighed. "You won't stop bugging me about it until I say yes, will you?" he asked, picking up a won-ton and examining it (what is with his examining food fetish?) before popping it in his mouth, whole.
"Yeah, pretty much."
He sighed again. "Fine."
I grinned at him. "Thanks Warren. It'll be fun. You like fun."
He stood, presumably to push me out the door before I caused any more damage. "Now, where have I heard that before?"
After a few phone calls to confirm Ethan, Zach, and Maj's assistance in the production, I sat back in bed, pleased with myself. People are so easy to manipulate, just like plants, really. Not that I'd ever use these awesome powers for evil. Well, not anything incredibly evil, I noted to myself. Frowning, I turned to my bedside window and produced a sprig of lavender. Calm once more and basking in my glory, I smiled at my results, both with the lavender and my cohorts.
Haha, my power of coercion is still all-powerful. Layla is good.
Okay. To start off, I forgot my thank yous for the last chapter! I'm so sorry!
So thanks to Ghostly Green, rootbeergirl19,and Off Dreaming for their comments and warm fuzzies, even though I forgot my manners. For chapter four, thanks go to LadyKida, Nelle07, Riderazzo, and XmarksthespotX. As well as War Admiral (I'm glad you enjoyed chapter two. Warren is so much fun to write!) and Off Dreaming (Well, I'll explain the Chris thing…).
This might answer the question (if anyone was asking) as to why I can never write Warren/Layla (Sorry). Chris, my dear friend, is rather a Warren in that he is grumpy, hounded by pretty little girlies who think he's smokin', a real 'dude' (he surfs), and looks perpetually pissed off, even when he's not. I'm serious. Oh, except he's Korean. If he lets me, I'll show y'all a picture.
Anyway. I believe the level of friendship we've achieved would be something like the friendship I see Warren and Layla having. Warren about to blow his top or do something 'stupid' and Layla trying to avoid the catastrophe waiting to happen. And since I could never date Chris (he has a thing for petting pretty hair, which he says I have…plus he calls me mom sometimes when I end up taking care of things he's forgotten to do), I could never write Warren/Layla.
So, that was my long-winded explanation of…I don't know exactly. I'm tired.
Also! Anyone wanting to see a picture of my very own Warren Peace, raise your hand (or stick it in a review). Depending on his rating for the popularity scale, he may decide not to be humble just this once.
Good night, loves.
XOXO, SeraphStar.
