Fandom: Victorious
Title: Point of View
Chapter Twenty: Dead Friends
Point of View: Amanda Rollins
My heart feels broken when I hear CJ talking. As a mom, it's my job to ensure my child is healthy mentally and physically. I have failed him mentally and physically on so many levels. I worry all the time about him being bullied at school or isolated. Even though Noah is his best friend, I fear he won't make other friends; parents have blinders on when it comes to their kids," and may be in denial that their children are in trouble. We all want to believe our kids will talk to us, but as a detective and a parent, I've learned that kids will bury their feelings in walls of shame and protection if they think we are overwhelmed.
Olivia pulls me into a hug. I can smell the beer on her breath as she leans her cheek against mine. "You're raising a smart son, Amanda. He's good. Don't worry so much."
"I'm a warrior. I am confident in who I am. You haven't seen the last of me. You can't say I won't stick around. I am going to stand my ground. You don't know me, and you don't know who I am." Suddenly a woman jumps up, joining CJ on stage. We all stand there in shock as Cher takes another mic out of the stand and joins CJ in singing her song.
"Feeling broken
Barely holding on
But there's just something so strong
Somewhere inside me
And I am down, but I'll get up again
Don't count me out just yet.
I've been brought down to my knees.
And I've been pushed way past the point of breaking
But I can take it
I'll be back
Back on my feet
This is far from over
You haven't seen the last of me.
You haven't seen the last of me.
They can say that
I won't stay around
But I'm going to stand my ground
You're not going to stop me
You don't know me
You don't know who I am
Don't count me out so fast.
I've been brought down to my knees.
And I've been pushed way past the point of breaking
But I can take it
I'll be back
Back on my feet
This is far from over
You haven't seen the last of me.
There will be no fade out
This is not the end
I'm down now
But I'll be standing tall again
Times are hard but
I was built tough
I'm gonna show you all what I'm made of
I've been brought down to my knees
And I've been pushed way past the point of breaking
But I can take it
I'll be back
Back on my feet
This is far from over
I am far from over
You haven't seen the last of me.
No no
I'm not going anywhere
I'm staying right here
Oh no
You won't see me begging
I'm not taking my bow
Can't stop me
It's not the end
You haven't seen the last of me
Oh no
You haven't seen the last of me.
You haven't seen the last of me.
The audience erupts in wild applause. Their bodies move in perfect synch, feet tapping, legs twisting, hands clapping, bodies turning as they glide across the floor. CJ is in heaven; his idol is dancing and singing beside him. How did this happen? How did my ordinary young man from New York City end up dancing with an icon like Cher on a stage in LA? Cher can move like she's still in her twenties at seventy-six years old. The audience's applause died as I tried to ignore the stares he received. It makes me nervous about having my child front and center.
Years of watching Caitlin being on display like she was an object, not a human being. Now, in the last few years, seeing Mazie follow in her footsteps on her reality show. I've seen how fans approach her on the streets or in school and heard her talk about how creepy some of them are. Part of me wants to rip CJ off that stage. But how can I when he looks so happy? I'm his mom; his happiness is my priority. The kid's been through hell and back. Let him have this moment. What could it hurt? Camera flash and move along the zoom in front of the stage. The entire world is watching.
At last, they took a step forward and bowed. Circled each other, their gazes remained locked. Cher placed her hand on his back, and CJ's hand lays on her shoulder. Cher speaks into the microphone. "Give it up for this amazing young man! Let's hear it, folks!"
"AJ, Mazie slide on over to your brother/Cousin. Hey Noah. Get up here! Join your boys!" Olivia's head snaps forward as Cher calls her son's name. "How the fuck does Cher? Cher! Know my son's name?" I mean, it's Cher who would ignore Cher. Noah's face turns bright red as he mutters a word I've never heard him mumble. "Shit." He doesn't even turn to face either of us; he runs to the stage.
Noah runs upstage, smiling wide as the audience screams and claps; I look around in amazement. Everyone here in the immediate vicinity is some form of Hollywood elite, and these talented performers are screaming and clapping for our sons. How? Why? Yes, they are capable, but how do they seem to know them already? I shoot Olivia a dazed and confused look watching as her arms cross over her chest and she levels her gaze at her son. "He is so dead." "Dead?" "That little shit, he must have a secret account somewhere, and you better believe Mama Benson is going to become badass Benson when this is over."
Noah high-fives both my boys and Mazie as he joins them on stage. Cher grins and waves her hand across their heads. "Let's give it up to the future of pop Music and dance culture. What are you doing with your lives if you don't know who these kids are? I'm seventy-six, and I know who they are. Ladies and Gentlemen, I want you to give up a round of enthusiastic sound for Mazie Rollins of the hit reality TV show New York City Dance Academy and to social media influencers Lightning Force. Noah Benson! CJ and AJ Reagan! Let's go, everyone, get your hands up and produce a round of sound; all of Beverly Hills will feel the quaking of our hands!"
The drum is the heart of our community, moving faster and slower, as do our emotions, keeping us in blessed synchrony. AJ, CJ, Noah, and Mazie all come alive as the drum rhythm kicks up. Andre's hands fly over the bass drum, hi-hat cymbals, snare drum, toms, and ride cymbal.
Together, they danced to the Music, feet in perfect sync with the beating of my heart. As the song progressed, I relaxed and allowed a small smile to form on my lips. "Our kids may not be perfect, Liv, but they are happy. Look at them."
Noah is wearing a spotless white suit and a black tuxedo. When he moves across the stage, he looks like a fifties dancer. Sleek and elegant. His eyes, blue as spring rain, were deep and irresistible. My boys are both very individual in their styles. AJ is wearing a dark royal blue Tuxedo with a black buttoned-down shirt, and CJ has a bright pink tuxedo with a bright blue dress shirt. The three of them move with such precision it's as if they knew this would happen and have practiced their moves for months.
Mazie turned elegantly, her body in tune with the Music. Yet, there was a sort of harshness to her, like she was someone who shouldn't be underestimated. I didn't quite care at the moment that I knew it meant she was on the defense, always watching to make sure another dancer wasn't trying to claim her spot at the top of the NYC dance circuit. The warmth between them all grew more powerful by the second. My heartbeat was increasing steadily along with it. Their dancing was perfect, so part of me didn't care if they were lying about having a secret account.
If they did, it meant they didn't trust us enough to tell us, which was speaking more to my role as a parent than theirs as kids. I could tell by her stiff posture Olivia wasn't feeling the same. If my breath were taken away by the end of this dance, I would know why. I've raised some incredibly talented kids who aren't afraid to chase their dreams despite barriers. That, to me, is a proud moment as a parent.
The drum beats enter me through my soles and shake me at my inner bars until I can't help but start to dance, finding my release. I extend my hand to Olivia as I spin, shaking my hips and clapping, feeling my lips part in a smile. She shakes her head. Ooh, she's mad. I dance my way away from her, laughing sometimes; she's too tough on Noah, but I am not usually the one that handles saying anything. He's her kid, and it's not my place to question her parenting choices, even if I think they are to generation x for raising millenniums.
My feet tap their way to the lounge until I have a diet soda in my hands, and I find a place on the only free space to sit. Next to Jacqui. Awkward a little sitting next to my ex-wife's current wife. Most would assume it's strange, but truthfully, it's not. I get along very well with Jacqui.
"Oh, look at how seething mad, Edele is, Amanda. It's a beautiful thing to see her not being the center of attention. Convincing little witch." "I see your marriage is going as strong as ever." "Oh, wonderful. You know what it's like being married to a rattlesnake who can bite at any moment." "I do, and I am so glad I am rid of her."
"Lucky. I didn't understand until it was too late how much of a bitch this woman is, now she has her claws in my daughter, and if I leave, I lose custody 'cause ain't no way I can fight her money and power." "Maybe not yet, but someday she'll slip up; she's getting old." We laugh, clinking glasses with her. "To bring down bitches."
"Wartime baby."
Cher speaks into the mic as the Music quiets down. "Bullying is so joke. I saw firsthand what my child suffered when they were in school, and I saw it in the media as Chaz went through their transition. It doesn't matter why someone is being bullied. Words have power. I'm going to turn it back to this incredible young man, but make sure if you aren't following lighting force and Mazie Rolls on social media, you do so now on Instagram and Tik Tok. Be sure to tune in next week because we may have a special collaboration in the works." All the kids on stage scream, jumping up and down. My heart leaps as I forget how to swallow. CJ takes the mic back, still screaming in happiness. The way his eyes light up as Cher hugs him and his cheeks swell in rosy delight melts away any anger I have towards whatever lies he might have told me.
"Thank You, Cher! Oh, my god! Everyone, please give it up for this queen! This beautiful icon! Holy, you know what! Wow, I can not believe this just happened. I danced with Cher! AH! Okay, breathe, CJ, breathe. Whew!" CJ fans himself off as he takes a few deep breaths and swallows half a bottle of water before speaking into the mic again, a little softer.
"I want to read a letter to my younger self that I wrote just now."
"Dear CJ. You think you are confident you believe you are a warrior. When you look in the mirror, you see a bright, compassionate kid, a boy who has seen too much, felt too much pain and fear, and suffered losses unimaginable to most kids your age. Confidence is a blessing, but it can quickly be taken as cocky to peers who don't understand the pain you carry inside. So, you stay quiet, and I know it can be so damn lonely. Even in packed hallways, you feel like an outcast. Your limp sets you as different your scars make the kids laugh at you and back up because kids they don't like ugly."
"Narrow minds."
"Immature hearts."
"Depression is a monster. Sticks and stones break bones, but words leave scars along the heart invisible to the eye. They shatter your fragile heart. They make your heart bleed. If you stay strong and quiet, they think you are weak and laugh in your face. Mama says you don't have to fight back physically to prove you are strong, but mama doesn't see how these words affect your heart; she doesn't notice how you don't laugh anymore or how cold your eyes look when they reflect in the mirror."
"Dear CJ, don't give in so quickly. Better days are ahead. Every heartbeat has a rhythm; find what makes your heart dance and what makes you feel so alive. Labels are meant to break you from people who judge without knowing what you are made of. Don't let them take away your power by owning them. People think what they don't understand; I know you can't see past this moment, but better days are ahead, so don't wave your white flag. Trust me, son, the words that cut you deep today will be your motivation and power in the days ahead. You will survive the trauma and grow wings so beautiful the other butterflies will be jealous of your flight."
"Trauma can give you a high pain tolerance just because you can take it doesn't mean you have to take it or should take it; the tongue has no bones, but it is a strong vessel strong enough to break a heart, so be careful with your words not only to yourself but to others. If you fail, never give up because failure means the first attempt at learning, not the end. The end implies effort never dies if you get a no as an answer; remember, no means the next opportunity. You don't have to see the entire staircase to take the first step."
"Faith is the first step."
"I have faith in my confidence, my strength of mind, and my heart, which have the most beautiful butterfly wings. I'm breathing in and out every day. Texas, Lacey, and mason, my best friends from the hospital, aren't living anymore; they don't get to see the sunshine or hear another song by their favorite artists. Demi Lovato. I question myself every day. Why am I so different? Why do I get to live when my friends all died? I miss our group text messages complaining about life at NYCHBLYN. I miss the hell we raised. I miss talking about our dreams, where they all went when we had so much to live for, we weren't even old enough to travel on our own, and they've taken a flight to heaven. We all danced with the same devil."
"Cancer."
"So, how did I make it through? Three times, some of them never got through their first course of treatment. How am I different? It doesn't feel right. I never got to say goodbye to some of them. It sucks. Kids shouldn't have to say goodbye; we should be on the playground or skating in parks, not in hospital beds, wondering if we will see tomorrow. I don't know why I survived, but I know Jesus has a plan. He gave me these wings for a reason, so I decided. Raise awareness. Raise bloody hell until the government wakes the fuck up and realizes children are not statics; we are not invisible or expandable. We are human. We have rights. We have dreams, hopes, and passions; we love and are loved; we hurt and bleed. We fucking matter, and it's about time they wake up and start paying attention. Childhood cancer needs funding."
"Hell, yeah, we matter!" the audience loses their minds as Demi Lovato jumps up to join CJ on stage. The Twenty-Nine-Year-old pumps her fist up. "We are the future. I may not be a teenager anymore, but I sure as fuck remember what it felt like to be treated as if I was irrelevant. "Tonight, I challenge all my Lovatics to show the government we won't let the future slip quietly away while we stand by and do nothing. To every one of my fans who donates to LACH on my website or uses the code DLCARES on the LACH website when donating, I will match every one of your donations and shout all of you out in my next single. You only have until midnight tonight, So start donating! Andre, hit those drums, baby. CJ. Let's kick this party off right!"
Demi jumps, head-banging in the air as Andre's hands fly over the drum set. In the sound of the drums, we are steady and robust; the song of kindred hands unites us.
I'm breathing in and out; they don't, they don't
I watch the sun go down; they won't, they won't
I'm waking up right now, and they never will
Again, I still need help understanding.
I danced with the devil.
I made it through hell, and I don't know why
How am I different? I did, and they didn't
And it doesn't feel right.
I miss the hell we can't raise; I miss the time we can't waste
I miss the texts they can't send; I miss my dead friends
We had the rest of our lives but didn't get to say goodbye
God only knows where they went; I miss my dead friends
I spot the satellites like we used to do
Blow smoke rings through the sky as they'll fly to you
Sometimes I wish that I could jump right into the blue
For a moment with you.
I danced with the devil.
I made it through hell, and I don't know why
How am I different? I did, and they didn't
And it doesn't feel right.
I miss the hell we can't raise; I miss the time we can't waste
I miss the texts they can't send; I miss my dead friends
We had the rest of our lives but didn't get to say goodbye
God only knows where they went; I miss my dead friends.
I miss my dead friends; I miss my dead friends
I'll see them again; I miss my dead friends.
I miss the hell we can't raise; I miss the time we can't waste
I miss the texts they can't send; I miss my dead friends
We had the rest of our lives but didn't get to say goodbye
God only knows where they went; I miss my dead friends.
I miss my dead friends; I miss my dead friends
I'll see them again; I miss my dead friends
I miss my dead friends; I miss my dead friends
I'll see them again; I miss my dead friends.
Dead Friends Lyrics by Demi Lovato/Warren Felder / Sam Ellis / Laura Veltz / Alex Niceforo / Keith Sorrells.
The Music is no Good without you. Songwriters: Cher / James Thomas / Mark Taylor / Paul Barry.
You Haven't Seen the Last of Me Songwriters: Diane Warren