A/N: I know the intro is tiring to read but we need background info about the protagonists, right? ;) If you skip it, you will miss some details.
Little warning because I forgot to include it in the first chapter: Chloe's chapters will be a bit of fluff. Bear with me.
CHAPTER 2
Beca is an artist. Most notably in the field of music. The areas of musical creativity that offer her the most extraordinary delight include producing beats, composing, and remixing existing songs. Because in music, it enables her to modify the DNA of a piece by manipulating its various sounds through editing. And this is a great feeling to be able to do.
Her favorite part of the creative process is the peace and quiet she experiences while wearing her headphones and shutting the world off. She enjoys isolating herself from the rest of the world so that she may devote all of her attention to producing the most pleasing piece of artwork.
She creates music for the delight and admiration of others to listen to and appreciates and places significant value on other people's responses to her artwork. Thus, she uploads her music online to music-sharing and distribution platforms. In real life, Beca's social anxiety manifests whenever she interacts with others.
In the past, it was not uncommon for her to show her distaste for other people by being impolite and forthright with the comments that she made to them—you know, by being discourteous. And only with the sole intention of driving them away.
As was the case with a handful of the people she met during high school who are no longer part of her life. She has always believed that friendships are overrated and unnecessary.
Until she started college.
She is convinced that the moment she steps foot on the Barden University campus, she will unequivocally despise this new community, and this is a notion that she cannot shake. After exiting the cab and walking along campus to find the correct buildings, Beca watches her surroundings with a sinking feeling that this is where she should not be.
And what Beca predicted has already come to pass: far too many weirdos are around.
Beca deliberates for a moment before deciding to push her way past the crowd of people at the entrance. On her way, she spots a blonde girl wearing a green polo shirt advertising Barden University, who is passing out fliers. Instead of chatting with the lively female, Beca searches her dorm room by herself, walking quickly. A vehicle drives by, and its stereo is blaring, a dude playing air guitar. But she gives no thought to what type of nutcase is sitting inside. Perhaps just another weirdo that belongs in this place.
She reduces environmental distractions by wearing her headphones to listen to music. In addition, by doing so, she is hoping that other people will refrain from striking up conversations with her at all costs. She wants to consciously induce the impression that she's more closed off—no need to make friends at college, especially if she plans to drop out after a year.
Beca has a particular disdain for specific individuals. Those that are exceptionally obnoxious. There are groups who suddenly and periodically burst out into singing and dancing, just like the dude in the car earlier. As if college were a high school musical, these people are terrible to be around merely because they exude an air of pure happiness. And in the most conceited manner. It's just pretty lame.
Not that Beca is jealous of their skills; Beca appreciates musical talents. Although equally skilled at singing and dancing, she would never boast about her abilities or blurt them out loud to attract the attention of those who were watching. Because that would draw people's attention to her, which she doesn't seek.
The metropolis of Atlanta, GA, is stunning, busy, and full of fascinating sights and sounds. In their last phone call, her father had told her that the spring and fall are beautiful and that the winters are usually extremely mild. That, everywhere you go, there will be a park or some other kind of green place waiting for you there. It's just an hour's ride to the city center via public transit since Beca doesn't own a car.
Students stand together as groups, which reveals their affiliation with each other. Their posture, style of dress, same body language, same demeanor—everything suggests they are a circle of friends. There are also a few people who don't seem to fit in anywhere. Those outcasts, the lone wolves. They spend their time doing whatever they enjoy by themselves and are usually perceived as the weird ones. Beca knows. She has been there, and she is there even now. That is unchangeable regardless of what happens.
Beca's first few weeks passed without significant events or noteworthy occurrences. She went to orientation and enrolled in the classes she would take during the first semester, but she avoided participating in the social events that the orientation leader organized. Hence, she chose to go off-campus and explore on her own.
She met her new reserved roommate, Kimmy Jin, who seems—judging from the first impression—to be rather apathetic, which is a good thing. It's the only personality trait Beca likes about other people in general.
Her first conversation with Kimmy was telling the quiet dark-haired introvert Asian that she should never touch Beca's music mixing equipment since it meant everything to her. Kimmy didn't indicate that she had acknowledged—or maybe understood? —her request in that regard.
Beca attended her first courses and lectures, but she made it a point to avoid any unnecessary interactions with others. This included the young light blonde woman who was also a freshman and had a bubbly and quirky personality. She asked Beca about the courses she was taking and the clubs she was considering joining, all in the name of meeting new potential friends.
"I was thinking of joining a choir group," the blonde told her enthusiastically as if Beca had asked, "are you going to attend the activities fair? If you're interested in music, you should definitely see what they offer. Can you sing? Or dance? But they also have other clubs there. Like rock bands."
Beca had merely replied with an indifferent shrug.
"I've heard about The Bellas," the other woman had proceeded in the same breath, "I hope they accept me. Oh, look, we're in English literature from now—"
"I'm sorry, I got to go."
On that particular day, Beca was on the brink of where she felt somewhat overwhelmed by the significant changes that were taking place in her life. It wasn't because of this cheery person, but Beca had a terrible week leading up to her move to college: the breakup with her boyfriend, her father suddenly being present in her life, and the thought that she might just be wasting her time here to appease her parents, and her torn desire to avoid people while simultaneously wanting to fit in.
Because, you know, you can only take so much before your cup runneth over with despondence.
The blonde's kind effort in chatting with her was just the straw that broke the camel's back. For this reason, Beca disregarded her own rude behavior by putting on her headphones to silence her internal scream.
After that, the woman never tried again to chat with Beca. Because of this, Beca had decided to spend most of her free time shuttling back and forth between her dorm and her laptop during her free periods.
The beginning of Beca's life at college was as humdrum as it could be that she began accepting it as the new normal. There wasn't a lot happening since Day 1.
Beca's roommate, who seems to be even more introverted than Beca, goes out more often, makes new acquaintances, and generally leads a more active life than Beca. It's all about the courtesy or the necessity of living together when interacting with her.
It's usually Kimmy who would initiate the conversations:
"Your bag is on the side of my room."
"Would you mind turning the music down a bit?"
"It's 9:30, and I'm going to sleep—will you turn off the light?"
On other occasions, it would be Beca:
"Kimmy, did you move the stuff on my desk?"
"No," Kimmy would say, "But I had friends over. Maybe they did."
"Then tell them to keep their dirty paws off my stuff."
But they also have civil conversations:
"Beca, you need something from the grocery store?"
"I just recently replenished my supply of instant ramen. I'm good, thanks."
"You live a very healthy lifestyle, Beca."
After two weeks of college, Beca decided she needed a change. Thus, she chose to intern at the local radio station, WBUJ. She had called the supervisor, Luke—whom she guessed to be British because of his accent—and after explaining her experience in music, Luke invited her to come over and assist.
When arriving at the studio for the first time, Beca discovered that her responsibility as a lowly freshman was not to mix music or operate a mixing board but instead to "stack CDs."
But hey, at least Beca earns eight bucks an hour for 2 hours twice a week. For menial tasks.
"Freshmen aren't allowed in the booth," the hot British manager had told her on her first day. And in the next instant, he reminded Beca and the other freshman intern, Jesse Swanson, specifically, "No sex on the table."
"I need one of you to answer phone calls and e-mails," Luke had said after Beca's third week of interning there, then he pointed at Beca, "you! Becky, right? You do that." He looked at Jesse, instructing him to order pizza for him. "With double cheese."
"Becky," Luke had approached her again. After over a month of working there, he still didn't get her name right, "help Steve with brainstorming; he needs some fresh ideas for our program for the activities fair."
"Becky?" Jesse had teased her once, grinning broadly, "You okay?"
"Oh, shut up!"
The studio is always packed to the gills with various musical instruments and other pieces of gear. The studio's overall design may be considered a "vintage" setting. Rock posters line the walls, and the WBUJ's crew seems to rely heavily on a two-story repository of vinyl albums and Compact Discs. Additionally, the architecture of the building, which includes peeling paint on the window trimmings that separate the DJ's seat from the enormous library, creates the impression that the structure was once a private dwelling at some point in the past.
Then there was this incident that happened after a little more than a month, in which her father made an unannounced visit to her dorm room when Beca had skipped her Philosophy class to stay in bed. Instead of getting angry with her, he insisted she go out and meet new people and become involved in collegiate activities. Whatever the reason, something in Beca's life's circumstances triggered a switch in her brain, which led to her having irrational anger bubbling up that she could not contain or reason through.
Maybe it was because he insisted on bringing it up to indicate how much he valued her happiness. He stepped back into her life, presuming that he would instantly become a part of her life again and choose what was best for her. Suddenly, he's the model of a compassionate and devoted father he had never been, or at least, Beca refused to see while she was growing up without him.
And because of this, they almost always get into a fight each time it happens. Since Beca had been so upset that her frustration bubbled over, everyone in the immediate vicinity was required to flee the scene.
It wasn't easy growing up with parents who didn't love each other any longer, who merely stayed together until Beca was old enough to handle the divorce. A father who had left not only his wife but also his only child. This caused Beca to retreat into her shell and shut people off, thinking nothing lasts forever and nothing is worth the pain.
Her father had made a proposition that was tempting and hard not to consider: She should integrate into college life, join in extracurricular involvement, and shall she remain unhappy by the end of the academic year and still wishes to pursue a career as a DJ or music producer, he'd pay for her move to L.A.
For Beca, his condition was initially unimaginable.
She needs time to acclimate herself to new individuals and will eventually think about it. At the time of her annoyance, however, she could not overcome her pride and swallow her feelings of inadequacy. As Beca reflects on her dispute with her father, she sees how immature and petulant she has behaved. As though no matter how old she gets, her father always brings out the cranky teen in her.
And she hasn't apologized for her behavior. Instead, she stayed in her room, satisfied for the time being to have the space to herself and to be able to think about nothing but her mashups.
It is not enough for him to load her credit card for all of her expenditures, pay for her education, or purchase her birthday presents on an annual basis for him to be considered a real father.
A real father doesn't abandon his child.
When Beca feels bummed, she often belts out famous songs. However, she'd usually be mindful of her surroundings as she doesn't want to attract anybody from those choral groups that obstinately recruit new members, as she's heard Kimmy mention once. Those tribes suck. Even her roommate has gone off to the activities fair. She even made new friends there and joined a club.
Beca uses singing as an escape from whatever emotions she is experiencing. As a result, she expresses her feelings through music.
Last time, she had noticed the shower stalls' incredible acoustics. Therefore, anytime she got the communal showers to herself or felt confident enough, she would put her singing abilities to the test there.
*,*,*
Kimmy has two of her friends over—a dude and a girl—in their dorm room. The three of them are speaking in what sounds to be their native tongue—perhaps Korean. Beca isn't sure, but she believes that Kimmy is of Korean heritage. And well, because Beca never asked her directly, as it has the potential to trigger something very personal, you know? She's not the kind of a dick who speaks first without thinking. Asking Kimmy Jin directly "where she comes from" may be patronizing. It might subtly undermine the person's identity by playing into the stereotypes or historic biases about social groups. And this is not just Beca talking herself out of engaging in social interactions.
But maybe she should've at least shown some interest in getting to know her roommate. Especially after over a month of sharing a dorm room.
In a related matter, does it go without saying that one ought to know the differences between the various Asian races? Does that make Beca a racist due to her ignorance, or is she just a complete and utter douchebag? When she was listening to them talk in "Korean," one of the things going through her head was how "constant" the intonation was in the sentences. Hence, she compares the fluidity of this language to the water's ebb and flow of a river or any body of water with waves oscillating in height.
Beca keeps her headphones on to give them some privacy. And while she does this, she does her best to ignore the notion that they are also talking about her, especially because she can feel their gazes burning her back. While currently working on a new mashup at her desk, which is in the right-hand corner when entering the room, she browses her playlist for songs that can be blended. She has her desktop connected to her remixing board to play with new beats. Whenever the background on her screen goes black, she can make out Kimmy and her friends' reflections on her monitor.
As Beca shoots up from her chair without warning to stare at them, everyone diverts their attention elsewhere.
"Guys, what?" Beca asks, irritated.
They exchange quizzical glances, and then the Korean dude tinkers with the cuff of his pinstriped long-sleeved shirt and raises a hand to the bridge of his horn-rimmed spectacles, maybe to get a closer look at Beca.
The girl on Kimmy's left with a fitted zip hoodie over a button-down, and skinny pants says nervously, "We were discussing some theories." She speaks with a slight Korean accent but in a matter-of-fact tone, as if this were an adequate explanation for their peculiar behaviors. There's a blank expression on her face; that same one Beca used to see on Kimmy's, "and were wondering if white people believed in them." Talk about racism…
"Of what?" Beca scrunches her brows and leans on her desk, trying to present her most serious countenance. As her gaze travels over the girl's face, she catches sight of the textbook on her lap. It features a graphic of circles of various colors along with text written in a language that Beca is unable to understand. Certainly not from where she stands.
"The theory of the multiverse of inflationary cosmology," the girl adds as she translates the title of the open chapter. Her lips form a straight line, and her facial expression darkens. How Kimmy always looks, though Beca isn't familiar with Kimmy's other facial expressions. That girl wiggles uncomfortably on the bed as though her declaration clarifies everything. She's donned in a buttoned-up white shirt, tucked into her pair of pants, "We're currently discussing it in Physics."
"What's that?" Beca crosses her arms, looking at the three faces opposite her. She feels as though she is entirely out of place among these geeks. Like how Eeyore would probably feel out of place if he woke up in Toy Story.
"Well," says the dude Korean. He's also wearing a sweater jacket over his shirt, beige slacks, and shiny black shoes; his hair is combed back neatly. He's the epitome of a nerd. "Physics studies matter, its fundamental constituents, its motion and behavior through space and time, and–"
Beca groans audibly and rolls her eyes. "No, this multiverse thingy, you nerd!"
"He's just kidding, Beca," Kimmy says calmly when Beca gives him a warning look. Then the dude chuckles, and he clears his throat, without even as much as twitching his lips.
As he adjusts his glasses, he takes the book from the other girl's lap, partly translating the text, partly explaining by memory to her in a monotonous voice, "Well, it's been hypothesized that there are parallel universes that co-exist with our own. Although there is the possibility of innumerable parallel universes coexisting at the same time, there can only be one history or alternative history at any one time. This is because creating an alternative history typically requires replacing the old chronology with a new one. But the one which fascinates us is the concept of branching timelines."
Squinting at the textbook, the other girl provides, "Inflationary cosmology, or pocket universes, to use Alan Guth's terminology. String theory suggests that the emergent local rules of physics in the many pocket universes might be vastly different, with a wide range of possibilities for particle types, forces, and dimensionality." She looks up at Beca, then asks, "Are you familiar with the thought experiment of Schrödinger's cat?"
Beca has to think about it, not precisely following what they are talking about as if they aren't speaking English. She says, "You mean the hypothetical cat in the box that may be considered simultaneously both alive and dead?"
"Yeah, exactly," the Korean dude says with pride that it seems as though they are lecturing a chimpanzee on the fundamentals of physics and being successful with it. "In the simplistic Copenhagen interpretation, at the moment of observation, the wave function 'collapses' onto one actual possibility. We see either an alive cat or a dead cat; the other possibility has simply ceased to exist. According to the Many Worlds or Everett interpretation, both possibilities continue to exist, but 'we'—the macroscopic observers—are split into two parts: one sees a living cat, and the other sees a dead cat. Both split with the same reality but no chance of ever coming back into contact."
Kimmy looks as confusedly as Beca feels at that moment. She is not the sort of nerd like the other two who are conversing about these hypotheses. Kimmy isn't contributing anything to the conversation other than listening, and this has made her more likable in Beca's eyes.
"If there is such a thing as a multiverse, then the sum of everything that exists would be made up of numerous universes that may be interpreted in a variety of ways, such as 'alternate realities,' 'parallel universes,' different timelines, and many-worlds interpretations," the girl provides further explanation using terminology that Beca is unable to work with.
"What does that even mean?" Beca asks, shaking her head slightly but thinking hard. "Does it imply that anytime I am faced with a choice, two versions of me coexist, one of which made the other choice?"
"Yeah, you understand the basic principle," the dude Korean says, smirking sardonically.
And Beca finds herself momentarily pondering the possibility whether a version of herself living in that different timeline has murdered this dude.
Then her voice raises as she realizes something, stating in utter disbelief, "You were seriously discussing these theories... in Korean?" They didn't correct her, so Beca guessed right. It's Korean—YAY!
"Yes, why not?" The dude says. "Picture an alternate reality in which you didn't care about or even know about this discussion. You would not have learned how fascinating this subject is."
"I really wish I could be that version of me," Beca scoffs, and she hears Kimmy giggling. "Because this is much unnecessary nonsense to be thinking about."
"It's very complex," Kimmy comments, "I guess."
The other girl looks up at Beca and tilts her head in contemplation. "There are an unlimited number of variations of you, Beca. Some of these twins will be in the same position as you at this moment, while others will be wearing a different sweater than you did this morning, and yet others will have chosen quite different paths in life."
"So, there could be a version of me, like, who wasn't a dud or a social misfit in college? Yeah, like some successful actress or something, who didn't even go to college," Beca drawls incredulously, chuckling at the absurdity of this thought. She turns off her PC and retrieves her laptop bag from below her desk, tucking her laptop inside and groaning quietly. "That's bullshit."
Maybe there's a parallel universe where a version of her did join a club and ultimately decide to stay a student at Barden, who will make many lifelong friends while at college and then go on an epic global tour after graduating.
What if that alternate Beca makes the best choice possible early on and enjoys a prosperous life as a result? Even succeeds in finding happiness with the love of her life...
What if the version of herself that exists in this Universe is doomed to fail in all her pursuits? Just because she made a different decision from the start…?
"So, you don't believe in these theories?" One of them asks, but it takes for Beca to snap out of her reverie. She didn't catch who asked.
She turns around slowly and exclaims in frustration, "No, there is no such thing," as they continue to prevent her from moving on from this subject. She feels compelled to say something to prove to them that she's not a complete moron. She must do this regardless of her feelings about the reason for it. Beca thrashes her arms around and attempts to explain by saying, "It's the same as whether you believe in some higher power or not," she gets no response; they're waiting for her to go on, listening to what she has to say. "You know, calling on an infinite number of universes we can't see to explain strange things about the one we can see is just as arbitrary as calling on a Creator we can't see. It's like always wondering about the 'what ifs' in life, always thinking that 'had I done this and that differently,' my life now wouldn't suck, but hey, at least another version of me did make these choices, right?" A bit calmer, she adds, "I don't believe in such things, but I respect people who believe in them."
They give her a look of acknowledgment while nodding their heads and exchanging another look.
This is the first actual conversation Beca has had in what feels like several weeks. And it pertains to the field of Physics and the Parallel Universe.
Beca gives a little headshake and a sly chuckle as she walks out of the dorm with her headphones on and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder.
*,*,*
"BECAAW," Jesse greets her, his wide grin stretching across his smug face.
"Don't call me that," Beca says warningly.
She found a comfortable perch on the ground just below a single tree, from which she could look about her environment curiously. It's almost as if she's enclosed in a giant bubble, where she can sit and unwind a sense of safety even if other people still surround her. Her laptop, her go-to companion, is perched on her lap, and her headphones, her go-to electronic device, are draped over her neck.
Beca met Jesse on their first day of internship at the radio station over a month ago while stacking CDs, vinyl records, and all sorts of albums and DVDs. Jesse kept blabbering nonsense to her while Beca tried maintaining her composure even though she really didn't want to talk with him. But for some reason, he'd been quite charming, nonetheless. Not that she'd ever tell him that.
Beca remembers their first actual exchange and how annoying Jesse had been.
"So, what's your deal?" Jesse asks her, gesturing with his hand in the air while holding a stack of C.D.s in the other, "you're one of those girls who's all dark and mysterious–" he walks around the desk, "and she takes off her glasses and that amazingly scary ear spike and you realize that–" he places the C.D.s on the shelves behind him, his eyes not leaving her, "you know, she was beautiful the whole time?"
"I don't wear glasses," Beca drawls, unaffected. "You're a weirdo."
"Yeah, I am, and so are you," Jesse replies with a smile, walking around her. "It's a good thing we're gonna be best friends and or lovers."
"Please don't say 'lovers,'" Beca says firmly and disapprovingly of the word, then walks towards another shelf to put distance between them. To put the C.D.s there that she's already sorted.
Jesse's been charming in a way that had made Beca crack a smile for the first time since she's at college. And it's not easy to make Beca genuinely smile at someone. Jesse told Beca that the best place to be on campus was right next to her, only days after they met. And despite her rudeness.
"So, when do you wanna be my girlfriend?" Jesse asks now; his question jolts her out of her reverie.
"You know what, maybe in another universe we'd have gone out," Beca states, wagging her eyebrows at him, "so, imagine how lucky you are in that other reality."
"You're hanging out with too many geeks, Beca…."
"I'm not hanging out with anybody," Beca mutters as she absently adjusts the bars on her mixing software by inserting prerecorded vocals, manipulating them, and adding unique variations that aren't in the original. Components such as vocal chops, harmonies, low octaves, high octaves, delays, and vocoders are examples of this. By now, she has the procedure committed to memory and can breeze through it with no effort. She is only doing this for fun and is not illegally profiting off it because the songs she borrows are not hers to begin with.
However, she did produce her own songs and beats, which she published on her SoundCloud profile.
In passing, Beca's mind wanders back to her exchange with Kimmy's geek friends the other day. What if, in an alternate timeline, Beca, indeed, dated Jesse? Imagine what that's like. To what extent may he have wooed her? Or perhaps she simply found his charm too hard to resist and fell in love with him. Beca can't even fathom the possibility of anything like that occurring, but the Many Worlds' hypothesis suggests that it is possible, and it did happen. However, in this world, she has little hope of ever going out with him.
Right now, she has zero desire to be in a relationship with anyone, not just him.
"I know you love me already," Jesse says as he passes a juice pouch to her, which Beca takes, punches with the straw, and begins sipping out of. Still, she's scowling at him.
"You should be grateful that I already consider you an acquaintance, which is a step up from the status of some weirdo I know," Beca drawls as she places the juice pouch down and clicks away on her laptop.
"Ouch, you do know that words can hurt, right?"
Jesse's expression changes as he moves his focus. Beca follows his gaze as he takes in the environment, scanning the individuals that walk past with his coffee-colored eyes. There are a handful of dudes wearing burgundy sweaters, like the one Jesse's wearing, that engage in dancing and singing softly, in addition to one fellow who beatboxes quite well. Jesse occasionally referred to his choral group whenever joining a club came up. He had been persistent in convincing Beca to join the all-girls a cappella group The Bellas because if she did and they'd pursue a relationship, "they gonna have a-ca-children—It's inevitable," he'd said back then. Still, she'd been quite determined in her refusal.
"All right, maybe it's a good thing you didn't join," Jesse had told her after the audition took place and Beca didn't show up, "It might be for the best that we aren't rivals, after all. Just adds unnecessary strain to our potential relationship."
"It's already generating so much strain," Beca had retorted, "and we're not even dating."
Now looking back at Jesse, who lifts one corner of his lips and absentmindedly raises a hand to greet two female students that walk by, Beca notices a crestfallen expression on his normally mischievous face. As Beca follows his eyes, she sees among the crowd of people a somewhat neurotic-seeming blonde with furrowed brows as though she's irritated just by seeing Jesse or the other singing choir groups nearby. She is wearing a floral dress and has wavy blonde hair, which stops at her shoulders, as she gives Jesse a piercing glare in return.
As Jesse had talked about the rival a cappella group members in the past and mentioned that those two women are Bellas, Beca believes the blonde's displeasure with Jesse's presence is due to their friendly rivalry and that it's not meant to be taken personally. But it's also possible that Jesse is aware that the blonde finds his friendliness irritating, which is why he provokes them by waving gleefully.
A gentle breeze passes and makes the tree's limbs start rattling. Beca feels the tiny hairs on the back of her neck spring up in full attention as her eyes fleetingly skim on the person standing next to the tall blonde. This same chilly sensation travels down her spine as her eyes meet those of the young woman with red shoulder-length, curly hair. She, too, is dressed elegantly in a stunning printed sundress and white sandals, and her hair is windswept in a stereotypically pretty way. Jesse had only mentioned this woman once, but Beca didn't pay attention then.
Beca, as she pulls her sweater up, assumes that the person this redhead is throwing a sweet smile at is Jesse—whom else? —as she walks by. This causes the redhead to get a reprimanding glare from her friend while the two continue walking quickly.
Beca rubs her left hand on her neck and remarks, "You're quite popular with the girls, huh? So, you have options." However, Jesse continues to look downcast. This is not what he wants to hear, apparently. "Hey, Jesse, come on, it's cool; we're friends. We're buddies. Definitely."
"Best friends?"
"For all I care," Beca grumbles.
Then Jesse turns his head towards her, his lips curving upward into a cocky grin. "Oh, got' cha there." He beams as he tickle attacks Beca's sides. Beca squeals and giggles uncontrollably, even though she hates being touched, let alone being tickled. But it's somehow different with Jesse.
She can tolerate him. Somehow.
*,*,*
After her last class, Beca decides to buy some snacks from the cafeteria. The dining area is a semi-enclosed hall painted in light green and beige, large and spacious with glass panels that let in the natural light from the ceiling. She rushes towards the counters where the snacks are being exhibited, including cake, fruits, salads, cookies, handmade crackers, etc., without pausing to take in or enjoy the canteen's interior design or the surroundings. Beca decides to go for Colin Fassnidge for $2,50 and a bottle of soda, then heads quickly to the far-end corner of the hall, where fewer people sit by themselves, studying in groups or just hanging out.
She places her laptop on the table and begins working on the mashup she had been working on lately by tweaking the vocals a bit, knowing she's almost done with this one. Her headphones are draped over her ears, wholly engrossed in her own work.
Until this weird sensation is on her neck again; she rubs the skin with her palm. She scans the room to identify the source of the breeze and determine whether any windows are ajar. Only to realize she is seated in a position that blocks any breeze from reaching her. She feels this eerie draft at the back of her neck, so she pulls her collar up, supposing there must be a tiny hole blowing at her from the wall somewhere.
While waiting for her work on her laptop to save, her gaze wanders across the dining hall and catches sight of someone across the space. They had just likely settled there to have some snacks as well, seeing as how the dark-skinned woman and the stout blonde settle down with them while bringing trays with goodies.
Beca's attention narrows down to one particular female among the assembled ladies, then she ducks her head, looking back at her laptop screen to see the progress of her file. Her gaze keeps drifting back to the group, making her look like a stalker. Or perhaps more fittingly—like she is an outcast yearning for close female friends. The kind of bond they have… Pathetic much? Yeah.
Their clothing style is a reflection of each person's unique personality and individualism. They do not share the same taste in fashion and do not dress similarly. But it's apparent that they all belong to the same group. They are The Bellas.
A second blonde with creased brows and an authoritarian air, who seems perpetually displeased, is also familiar to her. This stern blonde got fired up because Jesse had merely waved at them. Beca can identify most of the ladies sitting at that table from common lectures and seminars; hence, she deduces that most are first-year students. This is assuming they are not repeaters. That one vivacious blonde who struck up a conversation with Beca during the freshmen orientation, whom Beca had snubbed, is also sitting among them. Good for her; she made it. But aside from her, the rest don't seem particularly familiar.
Not one of them is what drew Beca's attention, however. Her eyes are drawn to the redhead of the group.
And for some reason, she can't shake the feeling that she recognizes her—at least, not in the word's traditional meaning. Although Beca has never personally met the woman with the flaming hair, her intuition tells her that she knows her from another setting. She knows her from somewhere else, not just on a surface level.
They appear to be engaged in discussion, with the redhead chatting animatedly with the tall, long-haired brunette next to her, who is also quite attractive. They seem to be really close. Because as they talk, they make more prolonged eye contact, are more physical with each other, and laugh with their whole bodies. Beca isn't a pro at reading social cues and mannerisms, so even if they appear to have a good rapport, her assessment of how they interact might be off.
The redhead's attention is drawn to a tall, brawny dark-haired jock walking toward them. After separating herself from the other women, she takes the guy's hand and greets him with a long kiss on the lips.
Beca tries to dismiss the prickling on the back of her neck by returning her focus to the file-saving procedure, not looking back at them again.
"This feels so uncanny," she whispers to herself. "I hate this place."
*,*,*
"Hey, honey, how is it going?"
Beca is lying in bed with her phone pressed to her ear, trying not to lose her cool, when she listens to her mother's voice on the other side of the continent. She misses her so much that she wants to go back and see her. However, she isn't the kind of person to be forthright with their emotions; therefore, she won't tell her that. She doesn't let anyone in, not even her mom, to see her vulnerable side.
"It's going okay," Beca drawls as she idly peruses the assortment of keepsakes on the shelf on her side of the wall. She is considering purchasing some decorations from IKEA to give her little space a fresh, modern look.
Kimmy is at her desk, perhaps studying for upcoming exams; Beca, likewise, should be doing the same thing, but she is now in a state of extreme sloth.
"You don't sound okay, honey," her mother states. "Is everything all right? Is your father nice to you?"
"Well, he's pretty annoying."
"Why? What happened?" Her mother suddenly sounds concerned.
"Well, all of a sudden, he seems concerned that I am not spiraling into despair and doing well; he often invites me out for meals and is always checking in to see how I am doing—ugh," Beca groans. She takes a throw pillow from the side of her bed and squeezes it.
"That monster! You should sue him for emotional abuse."
"Mom, you don't understand," Beca whines as she punches into the throw pillow absently, "that step-monster is always there. It's frustrating."
"And what did Sheila do?"
"She's showing genuine interest in me and acting like a friend. Hate it."
"You should get out of there, honey. Before it's too late," her mother says.
"Are you making fun of me, mom?"
Beca notices the background noises on the other side of the line: the constant whooshing sound of a hairdryer, the stale booming music, that incessantly ringing phone, and the random chatter of people.
"Where are you?" Beca asks, "Are you busy right now?"
"I'm at the hairdresser, getting my hair done," her mother informs her gleefully, "I needed a new hairstyle. And I wanted to look presentable at the interview."
"Oh, what interview?"
"I'm applying to another firm, honey, that's more fulfilling and satisfying." Another voice is in the background, to which her mother replies to the person, probably the hairdresser, "Just a bit at the back, thanks."
"Why is everything changing…." Beca mumbles to herself and pinches the bridge of her nose.
"I'm sorry, honey. What were you saying? It's a bit loud here…."
"Nothing, it's just…." Beca says, "You've spent the past decade working for that firm, and suddenly you want to try your hand at something else?"
"It's not something else. It's just another company," her mother says calmly, "The job itself won't change; I plan to keep working as a financial accountant, but I'll go elsewhere for promotion opportunities I have been denied at the other company."
"Mom, you don't need to justify yourself," Beca says, "I'm not the interviewer."
"I miss you, my little grumpy bear."
"Mom!"
Her mother is the kind of person who, when conversing, walking, or engaging in any activity, often does it at a leisurely pace. She's the sort of person who savors the little things in life, like watching the clouds float by or reading a beautiful book slowly so she can reread her favorite parts over and again. She's the kind who would stop and enjoy the scenery on a back road or take time to stop and smell the flowers.
In general, she is not quick to become upset or frustrated—unlike Beca—and she's able to spend her time listening to what you have to say without becoming distracted. She's someone who listens attentively and cares about others.
And when discussing other people, she seldom uses harsh language.
Beca adores her mother because of these qualities, but they also drive her crazy at times. Because her mom prefers to avoid dealing with problems head-on rather than attempting to find solutions to them.
The same thing happened with her parents when their marriage started falling apart and how her mother coped with it. Because they could not save their marriage, the only option left was for them to part ways and go on with their lives.
Beca is curious about how much of her parents' values she shares.
Moreover, the sort of person that she is.
*,*,*
Jesse had texted Beca after their rehearsal if she wanted to hang out, and since she didn't have any plans that evening and Kimmy wanted some peace to study, she went to the boys' dormitories. They hung out, chatting, and drinking beer, and Benji demonstrated some of his magic skills to her as they debated which universe was better when compared to others.
Beca had feared that they were going to start discussing the Many Worlds and Schrödinger's Cat theories when they, in fact, referred to superheroes, at which point she realized that these geeks were talking about "DC Universe Vs. Marvel Universe." Beca finished her beer after an hour of listening to their conversation and then headed back to her dorm, where she contemplated whether it would be more productive to simply begin a new mashup.
In the late evening, her dad decided to stop by. He mostly came over to invite her to dinner. The step-monster would, of course, be accompanying them; he'd forewarned Beca that they'd meet at the restaurant. Beca said she was too busy preparing for her presentations, even though she was starving. She had nothing more substantial than an apple for dinner and a short midday snack.
Beca swiftly adjusts the windows shown on the laptop screen, opens a few files that display her lectures, and then rotates the laptop so that it faces her father.
"See?" She sneers at him, after which she spins the laptop around once again before her father can spot any of her grammatical errors. She is well aware of how childish she is behaving, and even though her father, the professor, is not an idiot, he accepts her choice not to go out. Because he knows that coercing Beca to participate in activities against her wish never resulted in a positive outcome.
It's plausible, Beca thinks, that her father genuinely believes her, especially in light of her increasing track record of academic achievement and apparent devotion to her studies. She nearly smiles as she tries to escape her father's attention.
"Bec, but you're eating properly every day?" her father asks when she refuses to come for dinner. "You're not simply living off of fast food, right?"
"Of course not, Father. Just this afternoon, I had some Slow Poached Egg with Bacon Dust, and Parmesan Foam served with a delicious sauce–" Beca says, deadpan, "–straight from the can."
Her father doesn't know whether he should laugh or cry, so he takes a deep breath. He is silent for a second before turning his gaze back to her. "Were you able to meet new friends?" A note of concern can be heard in his voice as he asks directly. He settles onto Beca's chair, adding, "or have you taken part in any activities so far?"
"Well, I met Jesse," Beca reveals and adds, "he sings in a choir, and he's my coworker at the radio station. And we're always hanging out." This is not entirely true because Beca rarely leaves her dorm. But occasionally finds that lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for hours is tiresome and uninspiring, so she visits him instead. "Oh, and I met Benji; he's a magician. He's Jesse's roommate."
"Jesse… the choir boy," it's her father's time to deadpan. Again, he takes a deep breath and releases it in a long exhale, "and Benji… the magician…?"
"Okay, it sounds stupid if you say it like that. But, hey, I went and looked what clubs they have." His expression lights up somewhat, only to plummet back into disappointment when Beca continues, "And I did notice they have a practice field for Quidditch," she says with fake enthusiasm, "I might give that one some serious thought."
"You want to play Quidditch, Beca? Are you serious?" asks her father with a critical expression as he slumps forward with his elbows on his knees, his face paling. Beca can almost sense that his soul is trying to leave his body. Maybe he's wondering what he did wrong while raising her. He attentively studies his daughter. "Instead of joining a club that could benefit your future career, like doing something with music, you want to be Harry Potter?"
"Yeah, that's why Benji is teaching me some magic," Beca says wryly.
"Beca!" Her father chuckles as he tries to look critical but fails. "Please, anything but Quidditch!"
"What's wrong with Quidditch, dad?" Is she seriously asking this? But, here he is again, sticking his nose into her affairs and meddling with her life. "I'm simply trying to fit in at this ridiculous college full of freaks."
"Beca, please don't do this as a means of punishing me," says her patient father; with his hand, he runs through his stubbles, "since I'm trying to make it up to you."
"Don't you think it's ten years too late for that?" As soon as the words leave Beca's mouth, she wants to strike herself and die. When did she change into this spiteful person? Why can't she just shut up for once and be respectful? So, she positions her laptop to create a physical barrier between herself and her father, to shut him out. She's unfair to him. "I'm trying to do work here. Would you please just go?"
*,*,*
Whenever Beca finds herself becoming upset, she goes for a walk to clear her mind. She realizes it's usually a result of the recently heated conversations she has been having with her father, and it seems like it's every time he shows up. Similar to how it had been two weeks before when they had a little dispute that brought passersby to see what was going on between them. She doesn't know where this sudden anger comes from—is it from seeing him more regularly now? How she hates showing emotions. He does not seem to comprehend that she doesn't need him anymore, that she doesn't need friends to be happy. That she isn't happy here at this place.
Maybe not even in this Universe.
She cannot think properly, which in turn, keeps her from being able to focus on her music. A long walk across campus follows that same night. And it's already almost past midnight, so Beca is trying to head back home quickly.
As she continues on her excursion, she eventually comes across the sorority's and fraternity's simple, symmetrical, and rectangular houses. They have central doors and symmetrical front entrance columns, completely shaded by oak and cypress trees. As she walks past one of the pools on their property, she ponders how much their parents were paying for their spoiled child to afford the opulence of living in these two-story colonial mansions.
Which begs the question, what sort of college students call these residences home? Jesse had mentioned to Beca the type of advancement that would be available to an a cappella group if they were to maintain their level of achievement throughout. It has been for a few years now, with just The Trebles and The Bellas remaining in this position. However, he added that The Bellas' defeat this year puts extra pressure on them to succeed next year or face eviction. To think that a university would let such regulations be implemented is concerning, especially in light of the potential lack of available dorm rooms. In other words, your ability to maintain your current living situation is directly tied to your level of success.
Benji, Jesse's best mate, was not accepted as a Treblemaker, and this played a significant role in Jesse's decision to forego moving into the fraternity home. Since Jesse valued his friendship with Benji more than the perks of living like a rock star, Beca nearly thought it endearing on his part.
She recalls one occasion when Jesse repeatedly endeavored her to attend the Trebles' get-together party, which he was sure she'd enjoy. She said she doesn't go to parties, and it would probably be just dudes—she'd still have refused even if it were just girls, but that hadn't been the question. Jesse had argued that other a cappella groups would also come and that some would be nice. In this context, "nice" refers to "weird." Jesse had teasingly warned Beca to keep her distance from a student called Aubrey, whom he said had the potential to devour her alive. So, it's a good thing she wasn't a Bella.
Beca, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. Because she would never stoop to the level of an a cappella dork, which is a shallow level.
As Jesse began to describe some of the nerdy members and their qualities, he said with a sudden and absolute conviction, "I'm sure Chloe is one you'd find charming; it's the redhead girl. She likes everybody."
Beca had not been interested in meeting new people, including a girl named Chloe. Though, for some reason, she couldn't explain why that name struck some familiarity in her.
In the adjacent house, Beca can see female students dancing through the curtained windows as the music blasts in full volume. She is now considering whether it would be possible for her to be a part of a group like that. Is it feasible for the introvert inside her to mingle in such a boisterous environment? Probably never, not in this lifetime, she considers with a headshake. Her ears are ringing from the cacophony of squeals and laughter, so she puts on her headphones and continues her way.
She quickly exits this exclusive neighborhood of expensive homes. She makes her way through the park, which offers opportunities for undemanding amusement, such as strolling and breathing in the fresh air in pleasant settings reminiscent of the undeveloped countryside. The cypress, statues, and water fountains are the primary components. Early risers and night owls alike use the area for strolls around the park's verdant paths. Others like to work out and practice yoga in groups. People visit for various reasons; some go to relax, while others paint, read, or ride bikes. But right now, it's mostly empty.
Further along, down the route that leads through shrubbery and some trees, she passes by a building that her father once told her houses an abandoned pool. It's been empty since her father was still a college student two decades ago. He moved from his childhood home in Georgia to Washington, where he met and married Beca's mother, started a life there, and has since become a father. He eventually divorced his wife and moved back to Georgia to meet his new wife.
Students would use ladders to access the abandoned pool facility; once inside, they would often spend time there. Beca could find some serenity and uninterrupted work time at this place. For the sake of argument, let's assume that people rarely went there.
No father, no Kimmy, no Jesse. She might try, she figures, maybe next time.
She looks up at the clear, dark sky as she walks along, lost in her thoughts. When she was a little child, she would become so cranky that she would cry all night, and her outrageously doting father would take her on a walk to calm down and stop crying. She recalls that this helped her immensely. He would hoist her onto his shoulders, and while up there, she would stretch out into the skies and try to catch the stars.
She was probably around nine when her father took her out on a "date" for the first time, and she still vividly recalls the moment. For this special occasion, her mother had purchased her a stunning sundress with a floral design and butterflies on the front and back, as well as a pair of shiny black shoes. He went as far as dressing up for the event by donning a suit and shaving his beard. They went to Red Lobster together, and while there, she placed an order for garlic-grilled shrimp and apple juice, which she couldn't finish up due to the excessive portion size. What her father said to her has stuck with her to this day.
"Honey, you know no matter what happens," he had said, eyes gloomy, "I will always love you, right?"
"Why? Didn't you bring any cash?" Beca had whispered behind her hand, her short legs barely reaching the floor. "Because you sound like you're going to leave me here to wash the dishes?"
Her dad had given her a kiss on the head while laughing heartily at her sense of humor. She was the apple of his eye, the love of his life, and he made sure she knew it every single day. And Beca had thought it was true until four months after their outing... He finished packing his suitcases, gave Beca a farewell kiss, and then he was gone from her life.
Her father used to be her everything.
Until he had abandoned her.
As she's walking distractedly, she drops her head and suddenly collides with somebody.
"Dude, watch the fuck out!" She rubs her forehead, thinking she might have collided with the person's nose, chin, or whatever it was.
Beca lets out a grunt that betrays her anger, but she may also be taken aback by the situation, given that she didn't expect to see anybody else out and about at this late hour. So, eventually, she glances up...
Only to be taken aback by the sight of a face that, although obviously dumbfounded, is quite beautiful actually. Curly, shoulder-length red hair frames this face. Beca also notices that those crystal blue eyes on this face are a fascinating example of a blue color she has ever seen. The contrast between those light-blue eyes and the midnight sky in the background is striking.
It takes her a moment to grasp that she's looking into the eyes of another young woman.
And not any woman—it's her.
It's Chloe. It has to be her because she's the only redhead in The Bellas whom Jesse referred to.
This woman, Chloe, blinks in surprise as she staggers backward. But she keeps her eyes fixated on Beca. She's watching her every move with curiosity as Beca removes her headphones from her ears to let them dangle around her neck.
"Excuse me," Chloe stammers.
Beca scurries past her while keeping an eye on her as this woman seems to be doing the same to Beca. The redhead appears to be watching Beca back with a look that suggests she is contemplating pouncing on Beca at any moment. Why is she even staring so intensely?
To ease her discomfort, Beca shoves her hands in her back pockets. It would be an act of defiance to turn her back on this woman. And for some strange reason, the redhead reminds Beca of the mythical creature, Medusa, who had the ability to physically petrify anybody she looked at, turning them into stone when they stared into her eyes.
Just as she did with Beca.
Beca can't seem to take her eyes off the stunning redhead, disregarding that she might also be petrified right now. Like she'd turned into stone. Well, her heart already is made of stone, she joked inwardly.
"It's getting weird..." Beca chuckles uneasily into her fist, more or less speaking to herself to fill the awkward silence. She hates being stared at like a monkey in a zoo, but the look on this woman's face doesn't feel contemptuous or demeaning. She's looking at Beca as if she's studying her feature. But why would she be doing that? Is this some staring contest? In the next heartbeat, the thought crossed her mind that this university might have rubbed off their weirdness on her. She shakes her head to clear her mind, focusing on those bright blue eyes.
When Chloe doesn't seem to say anything else, and Beca is finally able to tear her eyes off this woman to run for her life, she hears her call, "You're Beca, right?"
The other woman's sweet grin catches Beca's eye again as she turns to face her. "How'd you….?" Now she's intrigued about how the redhead knows her name. But then again, maybe Jesse had told her. Just as he had mentioned the members of the Bellas to Beca. Then, suddenly, she is fully attentive again, taking a step backward with caution. "Dude, have you been stalking me?"
"No, I just overheard your name being mentioned once," Chloe says with a dismissive shrug, "Your, um, dispute with your father?"
"Which one?" Beca asks, skeptical. Then she remembers again that one time, two weeks ago, when her little argument with her father escalated somewhat, they even attracted an audience. And this woman seemed to have been among them. "Oh, sure, that one. Everybody heard that, and everybody remembers. Great." Beca can't stop the sarcastic tone that creeps into her voice as she thinks back on all her disputes with her father. In particular, since she started college. Because, now, he's always there, even when she doesn't expect him. As she throws a fleeting glance towards the dormitories, she now regrets how spiteful she'd been, and this woman had seen what a complete jerk she had been by being so disrespectful to her father. Her dad only means well—because he loves her. She scoffs at her own idiocy and the mistakes she's made, and suddenly, she finds it uncomfortable to be so emotionally exposed to another person. "Look, I have to go back. Nice, um, talking to you."
As she turns, she puts her headphones back on. There is something about this movement that doesn't seem right to her. It feels as if a hot slab of concrete is adhering to her feet, and it's like she has to pull her own body away in order to move.
It's like working against gravity.
It's as if walking in the wrong direction.
The more space she puts between herself and Chloe, the more pronounced the sensation that she is passing through a barrier made of a thick atmosphere, like walking through a vacuum chamber. It's a weird sensation that Beca doesn't want to think about.
It cannot be.