March 26, 2010.
A/N: I don't know why, but SS didn't show up at all in the TMM archive :( Weird. Anyway, If you read/are reading this, drop us a line and let me know? I'll keep updating regardless, just because, but it'd be nice to have at least a little feedback.
Enjoy :)
Searching for Solace
- TWO -
2003
April
"Max, where a-a-are you?"
Mackenzie froze, the pen suddenly still between her fingers. That sing-song voice could only belong to one person, and she'd been sing-songing her name for years now. The door to her bedroom burst open and Morgan bounced in, beaming.
"Hi!"
"You cut your hair!" Mackenzie blurted, eyes huge. Morgan grinned and ran her fingers through her glossy chocolate locks. Until recently, her hair flowed down her back in lovely thick curls. Now it was short enough that it brushed her chin. She only just managed to tuck it behind her ears.
"Why?" Mackenzie wailed, horrified. She'd always been envious of Morgan's beautiful hair. Morgan shrugged and threw herself down on Mackenzie's unmade bed.
"Time for a change," she said. "It looks French and cute now. And Tom said it looks hot."
She pulled a face and loosened the tie at her neck, removing her fitted navy blazer with an exaggerated groan. "That stupid thing is so uncomfortable."
Mackenzie quietly thought to herself that she'd gladly trade the loose plaid dress of her public high school for the itchy, uncomfortable blazer of Morgan's private school. She'd have given anything to have gone to a private school when she'd graduated from primary school, but her family couldn't afford the twelve thousand dollars a year to send her there. While Morgan complained about boring chemistry classes in state-of-the-art facilities, Mackenzie was slaving through year eight in the slums of the local public school.
"You cut your hair for a boy?" Mackenzie demanded. Morgan smiled devilishly, and a sense of foreboding washed over Mackenzie. She'd seen that smile before. It had accompanied breaking into the sports shed in grade three and stealing the skipping rope with the green handles, cutting Sarah's Barbie's hair in grade four because she was annoying them, whacking all the heads off cranky Mrs. Frederick's agapanthus bushes in the spring of grade six when she'd yelled at them for making too much noise, and deliberately puncturing all of Morgan's brother's footballs last year because he kept accidentally hitting her bedroom window when he practised his torpedo.
"We're going out now," Morgan announced, and Mackenzie's stomach dropped. She'd imagined evil scheming and plots of vengeance, but this was so much worse. Her best friend had a boyfriend? It was impossible. She'd never shared Morgan with anyone! It had been hard enough being separated when they went to high school, but now Morgan wouldn't call her anymore, because she'd be calling a boy instead. It was a terrifying thought.
Plus, it was yet another blow to Mackenzie's ego, which simply came from being best friends with someone who was altogether better than her. It was only natural that Morgan would find a boyfriend first – boys had always been interested in her; even when she was young they'd all wanted to play with her – but a small part of Mackenzie had always been foolishly hopeful that just once, it would be her, not Morgan, who got lucky. Who was popular, and chosen, and smart, and beautiful…
"What?" Morgan asked, her smile fading. Mackenzie shook her head and plastered a fake smile across her face.
"Nothing," she assured her. "I'm just surprised."
"You should be happy for me," Morgan replied, frowning. "I've liked Tom for ages."
"A month isn't ages, Morgs," Mackenzie replied. A year and three months is ages, she added silently, which was exactly how long she'd liked Dale Freeman for. She didn't even know what she liked about him; he wasn't particularly special. But whenever he walked in her stomach went funny.
"It's not in comparison to your everlasting crush," Morgan agreed, laughing. Mackenzie blushed. "Just ask him out. No-one will care."
Actually, everyone would, which was exactly why she wouldn't do it. That and she just didn't have the courage. The idea of confessing her feelings was absolutely mortifying.
"You need to get a TV in here," Morgan commented, rolling onto her back and staring up at the roof. "And you still have that bloody Backstreet Boys poster up! I'm taking it down."
"No!" Mackenzie cried. Morgan stared at her incredulously, her fingers paused at the corner of the glossy picture.
"Leave it there," Mackenzie said, looking away shamefacedly. It wasn't that she still liked the Backstreet Boys – in fact, she hadn't listened to their old CD in years. But it was her poster, and her bedroom, and she'd take the poster down when she felt like it herself. She'd always been particular about people making decisions for her; it really irritated her. What – did they think she couldn't think for herself?
"Whatever." Morgan let it drop, and flopped back down on the bed. "What are you even doing in here?"
"Maths homework," Mackenzie replied, lifting up the book so she could see.
Morgan pulled a face. "It's Friday night. We should do something. No-one does homework on a Friday night."
Mackenzie's heart sank. And now Morgan would try to get her to go out and party. It was the same routine every week. Didn't Morgan get bored of trying to make her sociable? Mackenzie licked her lips and pushed her glasses up her nose.
"I don't feel like it," she said. "I think I'll just stay home."
"Nah, come on," Morgan said, getting up and pulling open her wardrobe. "You always stay home. You're coming out tonight."
"Morgs, I'm really not in the mood."
"We'll just go bowling or something. Or a friend of mine is having a few people around to watch movies. We could have a huge group sleepover," Morgan said, pulling out a few hangers, even though she already knew the entire contents of Mackenzie's closet back to front.
"I don't think so. Thanks though."
Morgan sighed and dropped the hem of the single skirt Mackenzie owned, so it fell back into the wardrobe. "Max, you never leave this room."
"Yes I do," Mackenzie argued. "I have to – how else would I miraculously be at school all the time?"
"That's not what I mean," Morgan replied, shooting her a look that saw straight through her. Mackenzie looked away. Sometimes it was disconcerting being friends with someone who knew you almost better than you knew yourself.
"I like my space," Mackenzie offered. "I don't like loud music and big crowds. And drinking alcohol until I can't walk straight is just not something I consider fun."
Morgan sighed heavily, making no effort to disguise her disappointment, which of course only made Mackenzie feel even worse about herself.
"You can't stay locked up in here forever," Morgan said. "You have to get out at some point."
"Can't we just stay here and watch Idol, like normal?" Mackenzie begged. Morgan shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet her eyes for a moment.
"Actually, I told Tom that if I wasn't going out with you, I'd see him tonight."
"Oh."
There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
"You're not mad, are you?" Morgan asked. Mackenzie knew that it didn't matter even if she was. Morgan was so used to things going her way that, these days, she was only considerate because she'd always been taught to be. She was playing the good friend, not being the good friend.
"No. Why would I be?"
Morgan smiled. "I know, but I was just making sure."
"Of course not. I don't mind if you spend time with your new boyfriend. That would just be selfish."
Morgan pulled her into a customary hug and picked up her blazer, balling it up in her hands. "I told Tom I'd meet him at six, so I'd better go. I'll call you tomorrow?"
"Okay," Mackenzie agreed, feeling absolutely miserable and wishing she could just rot away and die. Morgan smiled, dark eyes sparkling, and bounced out again with a "Bye!", leaving Mackenzie to the silence, with only her school books for company. Fighting the strongest urge to cry, Mackenzie abandoned her maths homework and escaped her suddenly suffocating bedroom to the empty lounge room. Her parents were both at work, and Sarah was at netball training. No-one would be home for another hour. And Rusty was never very good company.
Mackenzie threw herself down on a battered couch and flicked the telly on, just in time to catch the end of The Bold and the Beautiful, a show she'd always loved to watch but had never admitted to anyone. She liked the drama and the exaggeration, how everything was always perfect and beautiful, and so very romantic. She read so many books for the same reasons.
A channel ten newsbreak played while she was waiting for a re-run episode of The Simpsons to start. Sandra Sulley, with a slightly different hairdo, appeared, blonde and smiling as always.
"Good evening and welcome to Ten News. In tonight's headlines: A North Korean cargo ship stormed by Special Operations Troops is found to be carrying more than one hundred and twenty-five kilograms of heroin, a family of five narrowly escapes being crushed by a train in Ringwood, and hundreds of protestors against the Iraq war continue to flood streets across Australia. Plus, all the glitz and glamour from the ARIA Awards–" Sandra smiles "–But first, breakthrough at last for the mystery that was Japan's Tokyo Mew Mew. Years after the disappearance of the five teenage girls that were apparently half-human and half-animal, a Japanese scientist has come forward with long-awaited information about the bizarre heroines."
Mackenzie stiffened in her seat. It had been years since all of that weird stuff – she hadn't even thought about it since. It had all been declared a hoax, that the girls were just actors in the end. The screen flicked from the channel ten studios to a press conference somewhere in Japan. A tall, blonde-haired man stood behind a lectern surrounded by journalists with enormous microphones, speaking rapidly in an Asian tongue.
"For whatever reason those girls were created," a translator said clearly over the top, "they helped save our planet. We have evidence now to support the belief that the earth was facing invasion by a foreign species. It has been deduced that these girls – whoever and wherever they are now – protected our planet."
Mackenzie stared at the screen. Two pictures had been shown while the scientist was talking. The first was of a silhouetted figure at night. They were tall and slender, with long limbs, and, from what Mackenzie could tell, extremely long, pointed ears. The second was a candid of the five 'heroines' in their bright costumes, facing a hideous beast of some sort. The telly flicked back to Sandra.
"Dr. Shirogane is a professor at the University of Tokyo. More on that report in the late news," she said. "Moving on now to the North Korean freighter…"
At eleven o'clock that night, Mackenzie was sitting at her desk with the door wide open, listening keenly for the sounds that the news had started. She'd spent the last few hours wondering why the name Shirogane (which she had no idea how to pronounce) sounded so familiar, why it felt like she'd heard it before somewhere, while she tried to plough through the rest of her homework. At last, the familiar news jingle rang out, and she leaped up from her seat, bemused as to why she was so intrigued about the stupid Mew Mew report – especially since she'd never even believed in them.
Her parents paused mid-argument as she scuttled past, watching her in surprise. Sarah, who was sitting at the kitchen table in her netball skirt and a jumper, looked up from her latest edition of Girlfriend Magazine and wondered if she was seeing things. Mackenzie pretended her behaviour was perfectly normal and made herself comfortable on the couch.
"… and wherever they are now – protected our planet," the blond man was finishing, for the second time that day. However, instead of returning to Sandra Sulley, the footage continued rolling. He looked up with clear blue eyes, his expression serious. "After extensive research we have learned that the intergalactic species is known as the Cyniclons, and that they have access to abundant resources on their home planet. Having conducted studies over the recent few years, we believe we now have strong reason to suspect that there is an imminent threat of a possible second invasion."
A chart popped up on the screen. Mackenzie had absolutely no idea what it meant, and was more interested in what the oddly Western-looking Japanese man had to say. From where she sat, it sounded like he was worried about the world being invaded. But aliens didn't exist – everyone knew that. And, in the ridiculously tiny chance that they did, they wouldn't ever have any interest in the earth.
To Mackenzie's disappointment, the screen returned to the studios. Sandra Sulley smiled for a moment. "Dr. Shirogane is currently under questioning about his possible involvement with Tokyo Mew Mew. And now to the ARIAs! A night of music, red carpets, and glamorous gowns…"
Sarah was singing the Black Eyed Peas' 'Where is the Love'? in her very tone-deaf manner when Mackenzie walked back through. She unplugged one earphone from her ear and said, "You alright?"
Mackenzie paused and looked at her, sitting there with her blonde highlights and her glossed-up lips, turning the pages of a trashy gossip-filled magazine with carefully manicured fingers and marvelled at just how desperate for popularity thirteen-year-old Sarah was. And at how depressingly different they were, because she'd actually managed to achieve it.
"Yep," she replied tonelessly. And returned to her bedroom.
CULTURE NOTE
Torpedo - Not the torpedo that pops to mind. In Australia, a 'torpedo' is a type of AFL kick, generally huge and powerful. There are drop-punts, too, but sadly, my AFL knowledge doesn't extend that far anymore. I used to be alarmingly into footy when I was younger.
'Bloody' - in Aussie speech, 'bloody' is used to mean many things. Generally, it exaggerates the notion that something is not good. Ie, in surprise: Bloody hell!, in anger: That bloody dog!, in frustration: I can't work out this bloody answer! A lot of middle-aged or older Australian mean use it a heck of a lot. It's pronounced: Bluddy.
Maths - the Americans call it Math. We added an 'S'. I don't know why. Probably because it's short for 'mathematicS'.
Nah - no. In fact, we don't actually say 'no'. XD
Idol - Every country has one. Ours is 'Australian Idol' (no duh), but 'Idol' for short :)
The ARIA Awards - the Australian Record Industry Association. A big music awards night, like the Academy Awards of music in Australia... sort of.
Girlfriend Magazine - a hugely popular teen magazine for Aussie girls. And no, I didn't start reading it this year at age 19 (nearly 20). Why-ever would you think such a thing? XD'
A/N: BTW, the North Korean freighter was an actual news item from 2003; I did my research XD All events mentioned in the first few chapters are actual events that took place :)
A/N: Review? :)
Until the next update.
Love,
Cherrie xx