Ruinious
Author's notes: Disclaimers back in chapter 1, you know where to find it. For all of you who were wondering which one was next, now you know. In response to a few reviews, yes, this is running concurrent with So The Drama. Readers, enjoy.
Tzeentch
"You know what the best part of a scooter is, little buddy?" I ask Rufus. When he turns his goggle clad little head to me and chattered, I shook my head in response. "No, it's not the feel of the wind in my hair or the asphalt beneath my tires. Its days like this," I waved my arm, gesturing to the tableau in front of us, "And the fact that I NEVER have trouble finding a spot to park!" I grinned at the naked mole rat perched on my handlebar, cut in front of a minivan that I had already seen circle the mall parking lot three times trying to find an open space, and maneuvered into a thin space between two other cars. It is a beautiful late spring day, and in order to properly enjoy the fine weather, it looked like nine tenths of Middleton had decided to spend it indoors spending money. There's a word for that, a school word. Something to do with iron or metal or something. Never can remember, but it totally fits the circumstances. I allow myself to feel just a little bit of satisfaction at the expense of the minivan driver, who looked venomously at me as she was forced to circle again, with what looked like an entire soccer team of little whiny vicious brats in the back tearing up her seats.
Ha! Sucks to be her! Remember kids: don't make the same mistake your parents made: use birth control! I shook my head at that. These last couple of days has really seen a re-awakening of my mean streak it seems. But honestly, after the last few days, I feel perfectly justified in taking a little bit of joy in the suffering of others. They all seemed to take joy in my own after all.
Jason's little stunt had definitely changed my social standing at school, that's for sure. I mean, on its own it might have been written off as weirdness attached to Kim that rubbed off on me, but combined with Stephanie's spectacle, it had apparently managed to permanently rewire the opinions of most of the school about me. Before I had just been the goofy kid that hung out with a popular cheerleader and occasionally saved the world. Now, well now I'm the goofy kid that hung out with a popular cheerleader and occasionally saved the world that also hooks up with kinky looking hotties and has enormous thugs to beat up anyone who pisses him off.
I guess this one of those good news bad news situations. The bad news, I'm now no longer a fundamentally nice weirdo who you can count on to never cause a problem. People have been walking on eggshells around me, many convinced that I had finally snapped under all the pressure and that if any of them so much as looks at me wrong, I'll put them down like I put the giant who had disregarded my orders. Yeah, in the eyes of many, I was Jason's boss or leader or whatever it is you call the guy who orders the thugs in the crime movies. The good news, is that now I'm a Bad Boy. And that brings up all the things that being Bad Boy brings to the table. I'm no longer the whipping boy of any of the jocks or wannabe bullies that plague the dark underbelly of Middleton High. Most people give me a bit of space when I walk down the hallway, and guys who used to have no problem sticking my head into a toilet and flushing now give me cautious nods or try to kiss up to me in order to make up for past indiscretions. Well, the males do anyway. Now, the girls are a whole other matter. I guess it's true what they say: chicks dig Bad Boys! If I had been this popular in my freshmen year, I wouldn't have spent that one dance locked in a closet, that's for sure. I'd've been in the dance with a girl on each arm, and another waiting for me in the car apparently.
All of this would have been perfectly fine in my book, if it wasn't for one small little thing: nothing about me has changed since all my old friends started showing up! I'm still the exact same person that I was before, the only thing different is that now they're all seeing another side of me. When I try to say hi to someone, they have to decide whether they're going to say hi back, ignore me like the good old days, or run screaming down the hall! And nothing I say seems to change that! I've tried just being my normal self, but it's just not normal anymore! No matter how hard I try to keep things the way they were, things have begun to change. And I hate change.
No, I guess that's not right. I don't hate change. In the end, all things considered, I can't hate change. But it can make me very, very nervous.
A sigh and run a hand through my messy helmet hair, trying to sooth it down so the only bit that sticks up is the usual cowlick, but then decide, eh, what the hell, and just let it stick up all over the place. The asphalt has been catching the heat of this warm sunny day, and I can almost feel it through the soles of my sneakers, a promise of warmth to come. Not even Kim has been unaffected by this recent craze. Though honestly I'm not sure if that's bad, all things considered.
Just like after Stephanie had shown up, this recent insight into the unknown mysterious history of her long time best friend caused by Jason had apparently caused a massive shift KP's priorities. In what is surely one of the signs of the incipient apocalypse, it seems that Ronshine has actually managed to fully chase away the fog of the hottie haze. We're back to being almost as inseparable as we were before I had foolishly introduced her to the new student that stole my parking space not so long ago. That isn't to say that there's no more doe eyed gazes at Eric on occasion, or that the two of them aren't still stepping out together. However, Ron night is now apparently once more a priority for Kim, and it's now a tossup which bike Kim is gonna be riding home on after school. More than that, sometimes, when I turn around quick enough and catch her by surprise, I'll occasionally find her making strange eyes at me!
No, not the doe eyes, or not even the more common and infinitely more dreadful puppy eyes. Actually, I can't quite tell what these eyes are. They're….unsettling. Judging. Considering. I'm not sure what they mean, but I figure if I wait long enough, eventually it'll make sense.
"Well, little buddy?" I said to Rufus, as we penetrated the doors to the mall, and let the cool of the a/c and the noise of the mingling shoppers wash over us. The naked mole rat on my shoulder makes a considering face, and that chatters at me while gesturing with his pause. I roll my eyes, "No, we just stopped at Bueno Nacho. We need to wait at least…" I pause and gave the notion serious thought, "thirty minutes before we hit the food court. Gotta give those nacos time to properly digest before soiling them with the inferior food stuffs offered here!" Rufus considered that, and then bowed to my logic. It really doesn't do to mix burgers with hotsauce. It leads to crummy-tummy syndrome. I consider, and then offered the suggestion. "How about we hit the store and see if we can find some clothes for Junior Prom? Who knows, we might actually get a chance to wear them there!" Rufus shrugged, and than spent at least forty seconds giving me his opinion about clothes. The little guy takes nakedness pretty seriously, all things considered. I narrow my eyes at him. "Hey now! No need to get personal. I mean, yeah, they're not gonna have a dinner jacket your size, but the least you could do is fine a proper bow tie! It's required formal wear!" He narrowed his eyes right back, chattered, poked me in the nose, and then ran down the inside of my shirt, digging his little claws into all the spots he knows I'm ticklish in before settling himself in one of my pants cargo pockets. I pretend not to notice him loosen up my belt as he goes. That's always been his favorite game after all, since it took me so long to notice just why my pants always took nose dives, I let the little guy play it despite knowing just what he's doing. After all, it's just his way of doing me a favor in his own little way.
Like I said, the guy really does take his naked serious!
"Fine," I tell him, pretending to be exasperated even while I'm grinning and not fooling anyone. "After that we can catch 'Brickening 8: This Time its Cinderous'." Properly mollified, the little guy reached out, buttoned the pocket behind him, and settled in for a serious chunk of those sixteen hours a day he needs to sleep. With a shake of my head, I turn and start making my way towards whichever of the innumerous clothing stores that had decided to try and cash in on the high school need to dress up for events that was closest.
Three steps later, something sweeps my foot out from beneath me. Startled, I desperately hopped to regain my balance, pin wheeling my arms as I did so. Unfortunately, two hops into my impromptu dance, my pants decide the up and down motion is too much for them to bear, and they plummet to my ankles. This is the last straw, and down I went, sprawling all over the floor with my boxer clad butt up in the air.
"Aww man," I moaned, "this tanks!" A few of the passerbys stop to gawk at this sudden comic display, but the rest are either too used to seeing me in a sitch like this, and the rest are just too busy to let anything tear them away from their desperate bargain hunting. I scurry up awkwardly, trying to stand and pull my pants up at the same time, and discovered that the two actions really should be done independently, and fall over again, this time onto my back. With a groan, I ready myself for a second try, this time by standing then pulling, when a feminine chuckle makes it too my ear.
I freeze, and glance over to where the sound had come from. There was a girl sitting there, about my age. She had long black straight hair, and an oriental or Middle Eastern look to her. She was dressed in a simply cut white cotton blouse, with gold embroidery tracing the hems and her collar. Below that, she was wearing a long gypsy skirt, all bright colors and garish designs. On her feet she had simple black slipper type shoes on, the kind that have a really fancy name that I never could remember. She had adorned herself on her arms and neck and ankles with all manners of bracelets and necklaces, and as she shifted in her seat, raising one hand to cover her smile, the jewelry tinkled against each other in a musical fashion. She had a small marking in the shape of a diamond on her forehead, with a crescent line beneath it. Both of her eyes were closed, and in the hand not covering her small smile, she held a collapsible cane, the very one that was used to trip me up in the first place.
"You tripped me!" I accused her, and this time managed to right myself and make myself descent, one hand tightening my belt the other hand pointing at her to give emphasis to my accusation.
"Yes," she admits, her voice lilting with her smile. "But it was only to get your attention. After all, if you hadn't noticed me and walked right by, I might never find you in all these people." She cocked her head to the side and lifted her cane while continuing. "After all, as poor blind girl alone amongst all these people, why whatever would I do? I'd be helpless!"
I snort at that. "Helpless. Right." I scrubbed my hand over my hair with a sigh, and then offered her my hand. Despite being blind, she reached out and took my hand with hers. As she stood I put my other hand on her shoulder, keeping her at arms distance, and looked her up and down. "You look good, Vanessa," I offer her by way of greeting. She favored me with a gentle smile, and then we both stepped in and embraced each other as long lost friends. She gently brushed her hands up and down my flanks, her fingers pressing lightly and giving her the shape of my body. When they reached my shoulders they trailed up wards feather light and traced the features on my face. I closed my eyes and let her finger tips trace lightly across my eye lids.
"As do you, Ron," she returns to me. With a slight smile she reaches out and grasps my elbow, collapsing her cane and somehow hiding it somewhere on her body. One second it was there, the next both of her hands were empty, and resting on my elbow. "Would you be so gallant as to escort an innocent lost lamb through this scary den of wolves?" she teased me. With a snort I offered her my elbow, and she locked one arm around it, and let the other rest gently next to it.
"Not going to jump right into the sales pitch?" I ask her. I'd been expecting Vanessa to show up eventually. I knew she'd either be next, or second to last amongst my old friends to visit, and so I'd been preparing myself for the visit. If one could ever prepare oneself for someone like Vanessa. I think it was last semester, after I'd managed to convince Barkin that "Low the Plow Shall Till the Soil of Redemption" was the worst thing written in like ever that he had to find something else for us to read. He'd settled on James Clavell's "The Shogun" for some reason. I was actually able to read that one too, seeing as I'm tight with a couple of people over there in the land of the rising sun and all. There was one part that really stuck out to me. It was the saying "the Japanese all have six faces and three hearts". It meant that back in the days of the shogunate, when there was all that political intrigue and delicate maneuvering over who would be the power behind the ruler, that all the people involved had six different goals, and three different intentions behind each goal, and that you could never trust any of them at face value.
If that was the case, then Vanessa has eighteen faces and nine hearts. I can only hope that I'd managed to get myself psyched up enough to figure out whatever plot or scheme she was cooking up.
Don't get me wrong, I like Vanessa. Even with her propensity for manipulation. It's just that, well, the girl lives for her head games!
"Goodness no! The only thing I'm interested in right now is spending time with an old friend," she proclaimed, sounding so innocent butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She angled her closed eyes to me and managed to flutter her eyelids at me, without ever opening them. It was a pretty impressive maneuver all things considered.
"Of course," I tell her dryly. "Well then, my good old friend, whom I haven't seen in years, where should I escort you too on this fine spring day?"
"Why, dear Ronnie, I would most certainly like to see a movie," she told me. I raised an eyebrow at that, and gave her a skeptical look which she returned with a winning smile.
Rather than question just why she'd want to see a movie, I simply agreed. "Well, there was this one I've been meaning to see. Tell me, Vanessa, how much do you like "The Brickening" franchise?"
"Why, I absolutely adore it!" She tells me. "'Bricks of Fury, the Final Brickening' was one of my favorites. It totally renewed the series after 'Bricks of Fury, the Musical' gave it a hit to its credibility. Why they ever thought that final scene at the end, where the big pile of bricks hit the brick building and cuase it to collapse on the brick factory, required a dance number I don't think anyone will ever know."
"I know! Though, that one part where the fat lady is singing that solo, and then a brick hit her was pretty cool."
I figured out why we were going to the movies while I was paying for the tickets. Naturally, it was me who was paying for them of course. I have no idea how, or why, or even where Vanessa learned the puppy dog pout, but damn, she was good at it. While I was exchanging the claude for the tickets, she leaned in ever so innocently with her arm still wrapped around mine, and asked, "Excuse me, but I have to ask. Is it all right if my boyfriend speaks during the movie?" Wait a minute, boyfriend? Alright, now I know she's planning something. I play it cool so I can see where she's going with this.
It was such a strange request to make, that the ticket vendor just raised an eyebrow and looked at her like she was an idiot. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the theater has a no talking policy. I'm afraid your boyfriend will just have to save anything he has to say till the end." The vendor looked bored by the whole exchange, and obviously wanted to help the next person so he could take the two hour break he seems to get while waiting between movies for the next showing.
Vanessa instantly looked so abashed, that I knew something was up. "I, I'm sorry. It's just, well, since I can't actually see the movie, I like it when he tells me what's going on on the screen…"she stammered, seemingly nervous.
"Can't see what's on the screen," he snorted, "what are you, blind?"
Bingo, just what Vanessa was waiting for. She gasped, and raised a hand to cover her mouth, looking mortified. A hand, which was now conveniently clutching her collapsible cane. Her eyelids began to water, and she started to sniffle. The crowd behind us began to pick up on the drama that was unfolding before their very eyes. With a plaintive sniffle, Vanessa turned and buried her face in my shoulder. The poor vendor, only just realizing that yes, the girl in front of her was indeed blind suddenly looked like he felt like biggest heel in the world.
Inside, I was beginning to laugh, but on the outside I put on a furious expression, and put my arm around the now weeping girl at my side. "Thanks a lot, jerkwad," I growled at him, and then started comforting the girl at my side. "Listen, sweetie, it's alright," I murmured, along with other platitudes, while glaring at the now stammering vendor in front of us.
"I, I'm sorry! I mean, I didn't realize…" he stammered, trying to apologize to the both of us. "I mean, I never thought a blind, I mean, visually challenged person would come to a movie! I mean, what are they going to do?"
Oh that poor, poor sap. Vanessa jumped on the opening like a cobra snapping up a mouse. She turned up the waterworks, and then wailed, "I just wanted to spend time with my boyfriend like a normal girl! I just wanted what everyone else has! Is that too much to ask?" She buried her face in my arm again, and this time I could tell her shakes were as much from repressed laughter as faked tears. I could literally feel her grin against my arm.
The people behind us had managed to pick up enough of this little performance, and were all starting to mumble uncomplimentary things at the now horrified employee, who looked like he had no idea how things had gotten so out of control. Whispers of, "how horrible," and "what a jerk!" could be heard from the people around us, and the two of us were getting nothing but sympathetic looks. I finished the performance by drawing myself up and demanding, "I want to talk to your supervisor!"
***
Two hours later, me and Vanessa were sitting in the food court, happily munching on processed hamburgers and salty french-fries. The manager had publicly scolded the poor vendor we had victimized, given us a refund, free popcorn and soda, and gift certificates for two more free shows before we had been properly mollified.
It had been totally worth it too. The franchise really was picking back up after some earlier stumbles. 'This time it's Cinderous' must have had like eighty percent more bricks than 'Advent of the Pueblo'!
Rufus was happily jumping between the two of us as me and Vanessa ate. The little guy had been grumpy when I woke him up, but when he found out that we were catching the movie earlier than anticipated, well, he forgave me pretty quick. He had spent the entire movie jumping from knee to knee, and running up and down Vanessa shirt, chattering at her the entire time. He had even helped me explain what was going on on screen for her, jumping into to chatter an explanation whenever I got so caught up in the story telling that all I was doing was saying, "whoosh!" and "whack!" in excitement. Now Rufus was just riding the end of his post adrenaline buzz and would no doubt be retiring to pocket soon enough to get some well deserved Z's.
Sure enough, between dunking one of my french-fries in her barbeque sauce and stealing one of her french-fries for my ketchup the little guy finally tuckered himself out. Vanessa smiled as little naked mole rat snores reached her ears, before I tucked my friend away into his pocket for him to sleep.
"Well, that was fun," she said, starting up a conversation that we had put on hold while Rufus was awake.
"Heh, it kind of was," I agree sheepishly, rubbing the back of my head. From beneath the fringe of my bangs, I study the girl in front of me. While the two of us had been playing that rude fool at the ticket counter, milking him for all we could get and leaving him behind broken and jobless, her face had been animated and expressive. When she wept, her tears had seemed real, when she had expressed joy at being able to have her 'boyfriend' tell her what was on screen, she had beamed. But here and now, and before when she had tripped me and greeted me as a long lost brother, her expression was calm and a small smile permanently graced her features. It was the kind of look that you'd see on a cat who got the canary and the cream, and then blamed both the crimes on the gold fish.
"I don't get to do this too often with the others," she comments, taking a french-fry and unerringly dipping it in my small pile of ketchup, despite having no sight with which to aim her fast food theft. Despite being blind, this girl was and is a prime example of how well a person can adapt to the road bumps life tosses into the paths of those who live. And I've no doubt that now, far more than even in the past, this girl in front of me has adapted to a point most wouldn't believe possible. She continued. "Stephanie, well the only time she's willing to play my games is when it lets her play one of her own," I snort at that, imagining well the games Stephanie plays, "and Jason, well, his games and mine are too different for the two of us too really enjoy something like this. As for…"
Here I cut her off. "Don't, Vanessa. Don't say their names. Not yet." I place both my hands on the table, and give her a cool glance.
She snorts, a surprisingly unfeminine sound. "Still with that old grudge, Ron? It's been four years, nearly half a decade. I know how things ended between you and all of us, but that's no reason to…"
Again, I cut her off. "You know as well as I why I don't say their names, and you know damn well that it's not because of old grudges." For the first time since she tripped me, her expression changed into something different from a mask or her smug smile. She looked almost chagrinned for a moment. I continued. "And don't give me that fake little pout. You know me better than that. I might not be at your level, but I know the rules better than most. When it's time, I'll meet them again. And when it's time, I'll say their names again. But I won't speak them one moment before hand, no matter what angle you take at it." My gaze is positively arctic now. In response to the look she can't see, she simply gives a rueful chuckle. Leaning forward, disregarding the fast food in front of her or what it might do to her expensive yet simple looking clothing, she takes one of my hands in both of hers.
"I've missed you, Ron. You were always the best at seeing through me. Yes, even better than," and here her smile turns apologetic, "him."
"Heh," I laugh with a rueful little half smile. She knew I had caught her in her little attempt to make me slip, and instead of backing off, all she does is change her angle. "I've missed you too, Vanessa. All of you. Even him," I admit. And it's true. No matter how bad the split between us was, it didn't change the fact that we were close, so much closer than should be possible for just a few short weeks. Not to mention what we all went through, there at the end. It's hard to hold a grudge against someone who was beside you when you sold your soul after all.
I sighed, and rested my head on my fist while watching the blind girl in front of me, and pondered my last thought. Sold my soul. Is that even the right way to describe what we did back then on a warm night in June? I shake my head internally at that. No, no it wasn't. I don't honestly believe in souls, not even after everything I've been through. Even knowing what I know about what comes next, about what lays above and beneath everything that most people think is reality, I still can't bring myself to believe in some ephemeral aspect of myself that mystic deities fight over in some sort of twisted spiritual game of acquisition. If there were such things as souls, I'd think the gods of other religions would put a bit more effort into holding onto mine, all things considered.
Vanessa bowed her head, and she flushed lightly at my confession. Then she raised her head, and met my gaze with her closed eyes. "I think I'm about ready to make my pitch then. You ready to hear it?" while she asked me that, her eyelids for the first time since she found me today opened. The orbs that lay beneath were pure white. Not the milky cloudy dullness, or the strangely dilated pupils, or even the scarified eyes that you find in most of the blind. There were no pupils, no iris, and if one looked close enough, not even the delicate tracing of red that most people have right around the edges of the eyes. It was as though both her eyes had been plucked from her head and replaced with perfectly white and polished limestone globes. Though they couldn't see, I could steel feel the weight of them upon me.
I take a deep breath, and crack my neck. "Alright. Lay it on me."
Vanessa isn't like Stephanie or Jason: those two were physical beings. Their first responses were sex and violence, and they had no problem displaying those primal urges before all. It was the very intensity, the devotion with which the two of them proudly wore their dedication to their aspects of the flesh that made them so compelling to be near, so irresistible to watch. Vanessa was a different beast entirely.
"You don't belong here," she tells me flat out. "You don't belong in this town, in this school, or with these people who claim to be your friends."
Behind me, someone drops a tray, and it clatters across the ground. The noise is distant to me, my whole world having shrunk down to the white eyes in front of me. "If you're trying to appeal to teenage angst and the common fears of inadequacy that surround the adolescent attempt to fit in, then your argument..." I begin, but she cuts me off.
"How did you know, not to let me mention their names just now?" she asked me directly. "More than that, how did you know what I was planning to do at the theater earlier? Most people," she waved her hand slightly, indicating the crowding masses around me, "would have been shocked by what we did. We manipulated that man. We ruined his reputation, lost him his job, and effectively robbed the company of money. We scammed them, and we did it perfectly. No practice, no planning, and no slip ups, despite the fact that we hadn't met for over four years. No normal person would have been able to do that." She cocked her head in challenge, daring me to argue against her logic. And that was what she was using against me, logic. Jason and Stephanie, they had made their pleas to my body, and accepted it when I rejected them. They know that sometimes there are just ways you respond, and that sometimes instinct really is the best response, in the bedroom and the battleground especially. Vanessa though, she was a creature of convolutions, of confusion, of doubt, and she'd use those against me without a second thought if it would bring her what she wanted: me.
"We're not the first ones to run a scam, Vanessa," I countered.
"But when these others," her voice indicated condescension as she referred to the world around us, "would need planning and practice, we needed none. They'd have to carefully rehearse their lines, to build their character up like any other actor. We didn't. This is no surprise for me. It is in my nature to do so, as you no doubt know. But did it surprise you, that you would so easily be able to follow my lead? You knew, instinctively what I was planning, just like you knew instinctively that it would not be right to mention their names, no so early. Why is that?" Her counter-counter is effective.
"Because I'm different," I admit, surrendering her the point. Her eyebrow rose, and for a second she seemed surprised that I would acknowledge that so easily. Now, I just have to guess whether that response was genuine, or if it was planned. I think I can see the trap she's laying for me beneath all the feints and verbal maneuvering. Now the only question is that if I can see it, can I anticipate it and lay a trap-trap for her? And if I can, will she have a trap-trap-trap waiting? "We're all different," I elaborate. "We weren't that normal even before. And afterwards, well, we all know that it changed us." I refer to the events at Wannaweep casually, displaying none of my usual reticence for speaking of that wretched place.
"And you have no problem, even knowing the gap between you, staying here? Staying around the ignorant and the blind?" she ventures, and she's not referring to blindness like hers.
"I've managed it well enough so far," I countered. That was too easy. She wasn't backing off when she asked that question, she was setting me up somehow.
"And how much longer do you think you can manage it?" she returned. I hold back a flinch as she echoes one of my long standing doubts. "How long 'till this house of cards you've built in the sand can no longer support itself? Until the shaky grains of the foundation shift, and the whole thing comes tumbling down? And what do you think will happen afterwards? Do you think your family, your friends, your colleagues," she said the last words with just the faintest trace of disdain, "will stand by you? Will they see that which you concealed from them as you intended, you protecting them, or as merely lies?" She leans forward, still grasping my hand, and puts her face inches from mine. Gone was her hubris laden smirk, and just as gone was her thinly concealed contempt for those around her. Here instead was absolutely surety in her words. "They. Will. Turn on you. Your families will spit upon you in distaste, unable to comprehend the path you've taken. Your so called friends will reel away in disgust and fear. And that contemptible little red headed tart will renounce you, and strike out at you in hatred." Vanessa's voice twisted as she mentioned what awaits me. And while I want to stand up and voice my certainty that that will never happen, that my parents, and my other family the Possibles, and Felix, and Monique wouldn't do that to me. And I wanted to answer her obvious malice for the 'contemptible little red headed tart' Kim with anger and even greater certainty that nothing could come between us. But I can't. I know they'd stand by me, even in disappointment, if I were stealing, or doing drugs, or lying or something equally petty. But would they stand by me, if they knew the truth about Camp Wannaweep? If they really knew where my faith lay, and if it wasn't in the Christian or Judaic god? If that faith lay in older, darker, more primal and vicious things?
Well, I might be better at predicting then some, especially when I warmed myself up to it like I've been doing in preparation for this meeting, but there are some things I can't predict, or even trust myself to try and predict without letting my hopes leak in and contaminate the future I see.
I said nothing, and she let the silence between rein for a second, only broken by someone else in the room dropping a cup full of ice. Neither one of us pay it any attention, her blank gaze meeting my brown one, her confidence and passion buffeting against my doubts and my hesitation. Still inches away from my face, one of her hands left where it clutched mine, and it brushed my face slowly, echoing the caress she gave me when she traced my features no more than three hours ago. "Come with me. Right now. Leave these meaningless people behind, forsake your soon to be persecutors. Things have changed from what they once were." Her voice was a whisper, and every bit as seductive as Stephanie's was. It held promise, but not of the sexual sort. "With you with me, we can change it even further. We can heal the rift that formed when you left, and repair what was between us, repair and improve it."
Her white eyes pierced me. She was right too. If I were to go with her, I really don't think there is anything that the two of us couldn't do, no rule we couldn't circumvent, no law that would bind us. We would change things, not with the sensuality or force that Stephanie and Jason would have used. No, we would be the gentle touch behind the scenes, the flick of fingers on puppet strings. If we needed the sex and violence, Stephanie and Jason would be with us. They'd give it to us willingly, as our brother and sister. There was no reason I even had to stay away forever either. With the right care, I could prepare things here for my return. I would be welcomed back with adoration, not chased away with revulsion.
With a trembling hand, not the one still grasped in hers, I bring my hand up, and echo her touch on my face with an identical touch on hers. She drew in a breath, deep and full and excited, trembling with anticipation.
"Tell me, Vanessa," my voice was just as soft as hers. "Why don't you stay here with me instead?" Her gaze broke as she blinked in surprise, her lips parting in shock at my offer. "After all, I know you just as well as you know me. I know that your favorite number is three, because you consider it the first real prime. I know the only other numbers you like half as much are nine, because it's three, three times, and twenty-seven, because it's three, three times three times. I also know that your favorite tarot card is death, because you think that its constant misinterpretation of actual death instead of its real meaning of change is so ironically common. I know you, Vanessa" my words slow and forceful, though still soft. It was a delightful kind of intimacy between us. I continued. "I know that you always hated the feeling of being helpless, of missing something that everyone else around you has but you could never be a part of. If you stay here, I can give you something else, something just as great, something you've also felt just as much without. I could welcome you into my home, and you could woo my parents and wrap them around your fingers with your charm. I could bring you to my school, and all the friends I have there, you could have as well. You could be by my side, not just as a friend and sister, but as a lover too." She trembled at that. I could see her eye lids flicker, the lashes brushing against my hand. "With you beside me, we could prevent a rift from ever forming here. We could be happy, surrounded by warm people and close friends, and make sure that closeness never fails."
With one last longing gasp, she fell back into her seat. As she fell I grasped the hand against my face and brought it down, so this time both of our hands lay clasped between us. Somewhere nearby, the sound of someone crumpling a wrapper passed over us both, just more noise in the crowded food court of a busy mall.
Finally, she spoke. "You sneaky bastard." Her voice was a toneless drone. "You deliberately used every personal thing you know about me, and used it to manipulate my heart and me into doing what you want without a second thought."
And I had. My counterproposal had quite probably been the cruelest thing I'd ever done. It was a shameless, ruthless, mean, and altogether vicious thing to slap her in the face with. But then again, so was what she had been doing. I had just repaid her in kind. If I had done this to anyone else, it would have caused them to collapse in tears. With Vanessa, however…
"That was the hottest thing I've ever experienced," she finally confessed. "I think I just wet my panties."
I blushed at that. "Vanessa!" I blurt out, embarrassment clear in my voice. I scowled at her. "Okay, seriously. No taking cheap sex shots at the hormonal teenage boy just because you want to score a debate point!"
"Oh?" she leered at me. "Why not?"
"I knew I should of paid more attention in that speech class," I muttered. "Just cause I can't remember why doesn't mean there isn't a reason. I'm positive it's one of those logical fall, falaty, fatality…" I trail off scratching my head sheepishly as I tried to recall the precise word.
"Fallacies?" Vanessa suggested, smiling benevolently. I snapped my finger.
"That's the one!"
"Maybe, just a little," she conceded. Then she sighed. "So you will not come back with me?"
"No," I shook my head. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"I know," she nodded.
"Also," I added honestly, "for what it's worth, that was the hardest thing I've ever had to do."
She gave a small chuckle. "You sweet talker you. I just want you to know, that regardless of how this turns out, I'm giving serious thought to convincing Stephanie to help me in seducing you afterwards," she added as well, and gave me one more wink as I blushed again, before she closed both of her eyes completely once more.
"Eh heh heh," I chuckled weakly, and broke out into a cold sweat just thinking about it. Oh dear gods, what have I unleashed upon my poor innocent self? Stephanie alone would probably be more than I could handle in the sack. Combine that with Vanessa? Oh dear dark gods, what have I done?
"There are two more coming, you know that, right?" she said, and stood up as she did so. I nodded, staying seated and taking a bite of cold french-fry as she prepared herself to go. "I imagine you can figure out which one will be next. He's been looking forward to seeing you again for a very long time." I gave a heartfelt smile at that. Yeah, I can guess who'll be next, and can honestly say that it might just be the happiest reunion out of all of them that I was looking forward to. "Well then, as a warning to an old friend, I shall give you a word of caution, for old times' sake." She leaned in, and made sure to have my attention. I gave it to her with surprise. A warning? "You and I? We're not the only ones around here who are using what we know of others to control them. I'll be seeing you again, Ron."
And without another word, she walked past me, her collapsible cane extended and in front of her, the light tap as it found the linoleum with each sweep blending into the background noise of the cafeteria. I turned my head to watch her leave as her words echoed through my skull. Not the only ones? Okay, from anyone else, that would just be ominous. From Vanessa it was a blaring red alarm with accompanying sirens. If she thought it was serious enough for direct mention, even after we had finished our meeting, then that meant there was something seriously wrong-sick going on. My eyes narrowed, and I was so deep in thought, that I almost missed the way Vanessa's head turned just a little as she passed a booth a few down from ours. When she did, I managed to make out a rustle of paper that accompanied her look. Even as she walked on, I paused at that. Wait a sec. There seemed to be a lot of noise coming from that booth….
No. No way.
I get up and quickly scamper over to the booth, and then gawk at what I find. It's Kim alright. A Kim who had seemed to have dropped her tray and covered herself in french-fries and sauce packets at one point. A Kim who was also covered in ice and soda from when a soft drink had been spilled all over her. A Kim who had also at some point apparently squeezed a burger still in its wrapper so hard that it had exploded all over her, leaving a ketchup covered pickle stuck to the side of her cheek. And most importantly of all, a Kim who looked absolutely mortified to have been found in that position by the person whom she was eavesdropping on.
For a long couple of seconds, the only thing I can do is stand there mouth agape at the tableau before me, even as Kim could only sit there looking as red in the face as her hair and more sheepish than a Scottish shepherd's flock.
Finally, she stole one of my signature moves, and scratched the back of her head while her eyes darted to the side and she gave a nervous chuckle. "Um. Hi Ron! What a surprise, seeing you here?"
***
I bounce the tennis ball in my hand, before tossing it away. It bounces against the side of the tree house wall, rebounds, hits the floor once and bounces back in the air to me. I snatch it out of the air, adjust my grip, and throw it again. Bounce, bounce, catch. The cycle is calming to me. If it wasn't, then I'd probably have driven myself crazy by now: I'd been repeating this maneuver for probably about two hours. I really do need the calm right now. I've got a lot to think about, and if I don't get it straightened out soon then the chances of me getting to sleep anytime soon will be slim to zippo. There are so many different trains of thought that I can hardly keep them separate. The strange behavior of Kim, my meetings both past and present with my old friends, Vanessa's warning, and most importantly of all….
"Why?! Why did Bueno Nacho do it? I mean, kid's toys? They're gonna fill the place with a bunch of screaming toddlers! How's a man supposed to enjoy a dignified nacho when there's a table filled with screaming brats?" I lament to the air. I'm so caught up in my monologue that when a voice comes from the floor next to where I'm sprawled out on the couch I had dragged up into this tree years ago, I don't even register the identity of the speaker.
"Um, Ron, can we talk about earlier?"
"I mean, what's next? Happy meals? Calorie charts?" I shudder and say the next part with dread. "No more bendy straws?" The very thought is so horrifying that I lose control of my tennis ball. It went careening through the small tree house, thumping wall and ceiling alike until finally…
"Ow! Knock it off Ron!" the voice said again, this time sounding irritated. With a start, I realize that no, I'm not alone up here anymore, and when I look at the hole in the floor leading out, I see an angry looking Kim, rubbing her head and glaring at me.
"Kimbo! When did you get here? And did you see where my tennis ball went?" I rush over to give her a hand up, all the while trying to spy where my little green ball of fuzz had rolled off to. She gave an aggrieved sigh, and accepted my hand up.
"No. After it hit me in the head, I have no idea where it went to," she muttered. I tried to peer around her, looking down the hole to the base of the tree.
"Aw man. I hope it didn't fall out. It'll take me forever to find it down there," I groaned. Kim planted her head in her hands with another sigh and just shook her head.
"Ron," she said slowly, obviously trying to muster the patience to deal with my attention span. "Can we forget about the ball for a sec? I really want to talk to you about something."
"Sure KP. Fire away. You know the Rondo is always ready to listen to what's on your mind," I declare, and flopped down into the couch. I heard the tree house creak at the shift in weight, and deliberately did not think about what that could indicate. I patted the cushion next to me, indicating where my redhead friend could sit, but instead she just leaned against the wall across from me. Oh? Wonder what this is about?
"It's about earlier," she began picking her words carefully.
"You mean when you were spying on me?" I tease her. I want to be upset about it, even if only a little, but honestly, when I caught her she was just too darn silly looking for me to harbor any kind of resentment. The way the pickle had been sliding down her face? Priceless!
"I was not spying!" she declared stubbornly, her face turning red. "I was…" she trailed off, looking to the side and desperately trying to find a way to describe what she was doing without admitting she was spying on me.
"Secret listening?" I suggest with sly grin.
"Yes!" she stamped her foot and pointed her finger at me. "Secret listening!"
"It's kind of like secret borrowing, only with listening instead of borrowing," I nod sagaciously. She started to nod, and then realized what I was saying, and then sighed in defeat. "So how long were you secret listening anyway?"
"Oh, not long," she hurriedly declared, and looked even redder when she did so. Oh Kim. You might be able to do anything, but lying? You're just not able to do it very well.
"You were following us since she tripped me, weren't you?" I said bluntly.
She groaned. "Yes," she admitted in defeat. She hung her head in shame, trying to hide her flushed face behind her hair.
"There, there, KP," I assure her, "what's a little secret listening between friends?"
"Okay, I'm so getting off track," she finally collected herself. Taking a deep breath, she set aside her embarrassment over a situation I will probably never, ever, let her forget, and started in on what she wanted to talk about. "When I was," she paused and then said with a grimace, "secret listening, that girl," she paused, and I stepped into fill in the blanks.
"Vanessa."
"Vanessa," she said with an annoyed hitch in her voice. I think someone might have taken Vanessa's 'contemptible little red headed tart' comment a little personally. "She said a lot of things that I don't really understand." Ah, I think I can see where this is going. "Some of the things she said, they sounded, well I thought they sounded just crazy," Kim admitted. "But the thing is, well some of those crazy things? You didn't seem to think she was crazy. You seemed to know exactly what she was talking about." Kim took a deep breath, and pushed on, determined to get this done all in one rush. "Ron, I've been trying not to freak out over this. I know sometimes I can get a little," and here she really had to fight to finish the sentence, "jealous. And sometimes, I can jump to conclusions. I," she took another deep breath, "I've been unfair to you, and made a lot of wrong assumptions about you that you probably wouldn't have had any problem talking about if I had just asked instead of assuming that I knew everything about you." She was shaking a little as she rushed on, her words spilling out of her mouth in a faster and faster rush. It was like a damn that had built up inside of her had broken and now she couldn't stop herself from telling me everything that had been bothering her. "And I don't want to be a prying, jealous, self absorbed bitch, but every time one of your friends show up they know something about you, and then they ask you to come with them, and they all hint at something big coming, and that something terrible is about to happen if you don't go with them, and each time you look like you closer to going with them, and I get so scared that this time you're going to, and, and," she was hyperventilating, desperately gasping for breath as she tried to say everything that she had been bottling up for so long.
I jumped up, and rushed over as she started to lose her balance, her lack of oxygen finally getting to her. I grab her shoulders with both arms and slowly lower her to the ground, while desperately ignoring the way the tree house shook and groaned at the sudden shift of weight in it. Okay, maybe staying up here isn't the best of ideas, all things considered. "Breathe, you need to take deep breaths, KP," I tell her, and I started to rub her back as she finally got her gasps to get in real air.
Finally, she got control of herself. With the two of us still kneeling, she looked up, her eyes the saddest they've ever been outside of the puppy dog pout. "Ron, what's going on? Why won't you tell me anything? Is it because you don't trust me? Is it something I did?" she asked me plaintively. It damn near broke my heart.
With a long sigh, I shifted so that I was sitting with my back against the tree house wall next to her, and leaned my head back so it rested against the wall, my gaze on the ceiling. "No, Kimberly. It wasn't anything you did," I admit. With my own bracing deep breath, I continued. "It was something I did," I admit.
The silence stretched on. Both of us were too busy collecting our thoughts to voice any of them. Finally, KP spoke. "You called me Kimberly. You only do that when it's really bad. Ron, what happened?"
"It's hard to explain," I admit. "I guess, the best way to explain it is to ask you a question." Kim turned her head and gazed at me steadily, her eyes encouraging. "KP, how do you define 'god'?"
She blinked and tilted her head to the side, obviously not seeing where this question came from. "God?" she said, honestly confused. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"More than you'd think," I admit. "Please KP, just answer the question. How do you define god?"
"Well," she struggled. "God is the all powerful creator of everything I guess. You know, omniscient and omnipotent, and all that. And he loves the world and everything in it, and wants us to be happy." She trailed off, not seeing where I was going with that.
"That's just one definition," I tell her. I shifted my shoulders, trying to get comfortable, and my gaze went far away. "And it's a pretty new one, all things considered. In the old days, the gods weren't that different from people. I mean, like Zeus, ya know? The god of thunder? He used to cheat on his wife all the time, and get mad at people who were good but just didn't pray to him enough. That kind of thing. Other gods were like that too, back in the old days. Set, ya know that Egyptian god? He killed his own brother and cut him into pieces cause he was jealous. And that one Swedish or Norse or whatever god, Loki? He used to do nothing but lie and cheat and in the end he betrayed the other gods and started the end of the world and stuff." I can see I had Kim's attention, as much as what I was talking about as that I actually knew all these obscure tidbits of obscure info.
"Well, what does that have to do with anything?" She finally asked. I could see her reminding herself to be patient, telling herself that this wasn't one of my usual ramblings, that it must be important. I can see that it's a difficult battle for her to wage. After all, I'm well aware of just how much history I have when it comes to rambling.
I take a deep breath, and take the plunge. This would most likely set into motion the very events Vanessa had warned me about, but I had to do it. I couldn't not be honest with my KP. "When we were at Wannaweep, you remember that one guy I mentioned earlier? The one I had an argument with?" I wait for Kim's answering nod, her eyes wide and locked on me as I spoke. I felt tired, and scared, and I think she could see it in my expression. "His dad. He was an archeologist. Did a lot of digging in strange places like Mesopotamia," I think that was how it was said, "and Africa. You know, the places with the oldest human records and stuff. Well, the kid, he used to look through his dad stuff. He found all this crazy stuff about one of the really old religions. One of the really weird ones. He told us about it." Kim looked confused, not seeing where this was going. I don't blame her for that. This wasn't the kind of thing Kim really had much experience with. I continued, my voice soft and distant. "We were just trying to be cool. You know, go out into the woods at night, and prove we were brave. Do one of the old rituals, scare each other a bit, just have some fun away from the counselors."
I turned and looked Kim dead in the eyes. "Kimberly. When we did the ritual, well, we found out it wasn't just superstition and myth. It was real. We called the gods, Kim. We called them, and they heard our prayers, and they answered."
Kim was shocked still for a moment, and then she started shaking her head. "No. No that's crazy. You're making this all up." Now she was starting to get angry. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. That's your choice. But if you're just going to lie to me about it and make up stories…"
I cut her off. "Mystic monkey power, KP."
That stops her. She knows my experience with that strange brand of weird. She had her doubts about its validity, but the way me and Monkey Fist both swear by it is enough for her to at least give it the benefit of the doubt.
"That's different," she says, her head of steam not quite cut off, but at least it's not increasing exponentially anymore. "That's just…"
I cut her off again. "Amulet of the monkey king, KP."
That stopped her again. "I thought we agreed never to speak of that again," she hissed. She really hadn't taken well to the whole almost turned into a monkey thing. That or the fact that Chippy had replaced her in her picture, perpetuating her picture day crisis for yet another year.
I continue, not acknowledging her admonishment. "The talisman of Anubis, KP."
Okay, I can tell she's beginning to have doubts in her unshakable faith in the lack of existence of supernatural powers. Especially the last one. That it was the talisman of another deific creature probably helped.
I just kept on listing in a droning voice. "The shared dream in the museum, KP. Sensei's supernatural ninja floaty skill, KP. The ancient text of the phantom monkey, KP." I paused and gave her a raised eyebrow. "Do you really want me to go on?"
She raised a finger and opened her mouth to debate the point, but then sighed and surrendered. "Okay, maybe there's something to it then." She looked at me sideways. I can see her concern already building, and the questions forming in her mind. If what I was talking about was true, then what did it mean, for me? "So what happened?"
I took a deep breath, and then paused. I shook my head once, then again hard. Releasing the breath, I sighed. "I can't talk about it yet."
"Can't?" she narrowed her eyes at me. "Or won't?" She was really getting sick of my evasiveness.
"Can't, KP," I assure her. "This isn't the jungle law of daycare we're talking about. The mystic monkey idols to give the mystic monkey power? Only worked when they were in perfect position. The amulet of the monkey king? Had to be wearing it. The talisman of Anubis? Had to perform a ritual. There are rules to these kinds of things. And if you screw them up, it can get bad." I shuddered despite myself.
Now Kim was looking concerned. Gods bless her, she put this together pretty fast too. "So earlier, when you and Vanessa were talking, she seemed pretty focused on how you wouldn't let her say that name. That was…?" she trailed off, letting me finish her thought.
"That was her trying to trip me up. If I had said it, I'd have screwed up what's going on right now." I nod and finish her thought. She gave me a hard look.
"And if you had screwed up whatever is going on?"
"Jungle law, KP," I nod my head solemnly. "Jungle law."
Kim sat in silence after that, and I didn't feel a need to disturb that contemplation. There was a few other things tumbling in my brain, and I was bracing myself for my own disturbing line of questions.
"I always thought you were Jewish," she finally said.
Despite myself, I laugh at that. "I am. It's just more of an ethnic thing for me. I carry on the traditions, and follow the rules, but that's mostly because I respect the heck out of my ancestors who really believed in it. I can still honor my folks beliefs, even if they're not mine." I give her a small smile. I'd always gone out of my way to carry on my parents cultural beliefs. And what can I say? After all the Jews had endured, I'm proud as hell to have been born one and live up to that heritage.
"And what do you believe? You said the," and she struggled with the next word, "gods, answered you. What do you mean?"
"The bad news is, I can't answer that yet," I admit to her. She sighed, no doubt fed up with my evasiveness. "The good news is, that after the next visitor, I'll be free to tell you a whole lot more," I admit. "Just about all of it actually." She looked at me hard, and I met her gaze evenly, trying my best to show her my all honest conviction of that fact.
"I can make do with that for now." She reached out and lightly touched my arm. "Ron. I know how hard this must be for you. Vanessa," and she once more bit out that name like it was something foul that had ended up in her mouth. Definitely still POed about the tart comment. "Vanessa said how we'd all turn on you and stuff. Ron," she grasped me firmly, and made sure I was facing her. "Ron, I want you to know: I will never turn on you. Never!" Her eyes were slightly misty. "You brought up the amulet of the monkey king earlier. You remember how you thought that actual monkey was me, and how hard you worked to prove that it didn't bother you, and that you'd accept me no matter what? Even with how much you can't stand monkeys?" I nod, stilling a brief shudder at the memory. Monkeys….. "Well that meant a lot to me, Ron. And don't think for a second that I wouldn't do the same for you." She leaned in, and her forehead rested against mine. The warmth of her breath on my face felt intimate and comforting, almost as intimate and comforting as her words. I let out a shuddering breath, and felt something cold inside of me, something that had been building since Vanessa first said those things to me, warm up. Her words had hurt me. They were supposed to. They were supposed to make me doubt. It was what Vanessa does. Which is why I had no problem returning the favor to her earlier.
"Thanks, Kimberly," I whisper. I shut my eyes, and then throwing caution to the wind, I hugged her. She returned it. We stayed like that for a long time.
Finally, I pulled away. While I brushed my bangs back from my eyes, which was absolutely not me rubbing my eyes because they were a little teary, I took another breath and pushed on with the other thing I was thinking about. "Kim. There's something else I need to bring up." She had been brushing her own bangs back, and she nodded wordlessly for me to continue. I took a deep breath and continued. "There was something that Vanessa said. Towards the end. 'We're not the only ones around here who are using what we know of others to control them.' Do you remember that?" Kim nodded, obviously not seeing where I was going with that. "KP, you don't know Vanessa. I do, and I was barely able to keep up with her in that conversation. She knows things. Things she really shouldn't know. She likes mind games, and manipulating, and she can always sniff out what others are trying to keep hidden." I'm rambling, trying to explain enough of where my suspicions came from that Kim would be able to understand just how serious I am about this. Her eyes were narrowed with confusion, trying to follow my train of thought, which was probably impossible considering how much trouble I was having following them, and they were my thoughts in the first place!
Alright, I'm digressing.
I continued on. "Kim, Vanessa doesn't do anything lightly. Every movement, every expression, every gesture? They're all planned. That's just the way she is. And if she gave a warning like that, it wasn't anything casual. It meant she had some serious leverage on someone, and the only reason she gave it to me in the end, well was for old time's sake." KP is obviously getting lost in the labyrinthine logic. "I've been thinking about it for the last few hours. I've only been able to figure out one way that she could mean it." I give my hair a brief rustle as I try to figure out how to broach the subject. "KP, you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you on purpose right? And that if I were to do something to hurt you, it's either cause I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt worse, right? Or I thought I was really helping you but was just making a mistake?" Now I'm just rambling, and KP knows it. It doesn't change the fact that she can obviously see that whatever I'm about to say has the very strong potential to hurt her, and that I'm doing everything I can not to do that.
"Just say it Ron," she breaks in. She looks like she's braced herself for whatever it is that has me tweaking.
So I say it. "Kim, I think we need to have Wade take a deep look at Eric. I think he might be playing you."
Her eyes widened in shock. Alright, maybe I should have found a gentler way of saying that.