Oh, no. It's been like, forever. I'm genuinely sorry. I had block. Like, REALLY bad block that affected ALL my stories and I just couldn't write anything. Not even essays for school!
I started drawing and painting and designing and making music to compensate until finally, a couple of weeks ago, I reread all of my old works and found myself falling back into love with them.
I now know how the story is going to go from this point to the end, I know all the characters and I'm hoping my muse won't drop me again. I'm baking her cookies every friday so she'll stay with me.
Anyway, if anybody still reads this after so much silence, I'll owe you forever.
I'll also love you more than you'd think.
Greetings, Cocoalata
**********************************ZPOV***********************************
The first thing Nora did after helping me in the car was to give me a big green supermarket-style plastic bag. She had to say no more. I accepted it with a distinct sense of relief but was still pretty determined to hold what could be held inside by all means.
Nora's car was small but nice and warm. There were stickers all over the dashboard, proclaiming things like "I heart Nerds", "The Shallow End of the Gene Pool" and "Save Water; Shower with a friend!". She also had two key ring stuffed animals dangling from the ceiling, one white bird and one that looked like a sheep, but might also have been a bear.
There was music playing, just a little louder than the hum of the motor. At first, I didn't pay any attention to it, but the mellow tune soothed and calmed me nevertheless, and after a while, I caught myself actually listening.
It was not like anything I had ever consciously listened to. There was no beat; at times, I could barely make out a melody. Seemingly random notes were seeping in and out of focus, forming momentary bonds that dissolved within the blink of an eye. They appeared to be floating, with no goal and no coherence, yet together they created something complete and beautiful.
Every now and then, a soft male voice would drift along, sometimes singing, sometimes just humming. It was in perfect harmony with the music, sounding so much like just another instrument that it was hard to focus on the lyrics.
When the second track ended, I decided to ask. „Who's he?"
„Who? ", asked Nora with her gaze locked onto the street.
„The singer." I said, feeling lazy and sleepy and inexplicably happy. "I don't think I've ever heard him before. What's his name?"
Nora smiled; she was prettier in profile. "Elliott Brown; you wouldn't know him. He doesn't sell his music."
"Why not?"
She chuckled. "Because he's a chicken-ass, that's why. It took near super-human persuasion skills to even get this single CD out of him, and he insists I owe him royally."
"Huh." I said. I couldn't understand why this Fred kid didn't want people listening to his tracks. If I had a talent like that, I knew for sure I would be eager to show it off. "So he's a friend of yours?"
"My brother", Nora said. "My little brother."
"I have a brother, too", I told her. "We're twins. You'd like him; He's a nerd." I paused. "You know, I never knew girls liked nerds."
"Saw my sticker, huh?" She chuckled again. The sound was warm and comforting and I wanted her to keep making it. „Well, I do."
After that, we didn't say anything else for several minutes. Instead, we sat in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable at all. When Nora spoke again, she was addressing a completely different topic.
"Where are you from?"
I frowned. "Uh, Boston. Why do you ask?"
"Well, didn't you say you were staying at the Tipton?"
"Oh, right. No, not staying. I live there." Naturally, she looked a little sceptical, so I explained about my Mom being the hotel singer and us living in a suite together.
When I was done, her scepticism had turned to genuine awe. "Wow, now I'm jealous. Must be cool, living in a five star hotel."
"Yeah… it's pretty suite", I admitted, smiling cockily. "Well, partly. Sometimes, it's just hell, being perched together on 400 feet square and total strangers for neighbours."
Nora nodded understandingly. "How old are you, anyway?"
"I'm sixteen. Turning seventeen in fall. And you?"
"Eightteen."
"So you're in college?"
"Yup. Art history. - Is there a parking area around?"
Her assumedly random change of topic had me confused for a minute until I realized that we were actually on the street leading to the Tipton Hotel. Somehow I hadn't even noticed our surroundings becoming familiar.
"Yeah, but it's always cramped. Anyway, I'm feeling lots better. If you could just let me hop out somewhere around here, that'd be fine." On second thought, I added: "More than fine, actually. I totally owe you."
Nora didn't so much as take notice of that last statement. Instead, she eyed me doubtfully. "Are you sure? I don't feel good dropping you out here."
"No, really, it's cool. I bet my family are already waiting in the foyer…" My nausea returned at the thought of facing them.
Nora gave me a sympathetic look. "Well, good luck with that", she said. "I need to get going, so I'll just believe you. Take care, though; I wouldn't want my efforts wasted by you tripping on the way to the front door!"
"You got it." I put on my best grin, because it was all I could give her.
Carefully, Nora wriggled her little car as close to the front doors as possible so I'd have only a couple yards to walk. A little hesitantly, I got out of the car. The world was no longer shaking, so I was positive I could make it inside. Yet somehow I kept holding on to the door as though that way, I could keep her from driving away and leaving me here alone to deal with my angry family.
"Well, bye then. And… thanks again."
It didn't seem enough. I briefly considered asking for her number so I could invite her for coffee, return the favor, express my gratitude, but mostly – weird as that was – because I didn't want to walk away and never see her again. Frankly, I didn't just want to ask her to give me her number. I wanted to ask her to be my friend.
And while I stood there contemplating, the moment passed, and with a last megawatt smile, Nora said: "Bye, Zack. Get well soon."
Feeling like a total idiot, I shut the door, stepped back warily, and waved, waiting for her to take off. She didn't, though; she was watching me, motioning for me to go. I mirrored her motion. For a second, we just stared at each other. A car honked.
Then Nora laughed, and even though I couldn't hear a sound, the view of it gave me the courage to reach out and yank the car door back open.
"Would you –" A second horn sounded, and then another. Several taxis were blocking the street behind us, waiting to drop their passengers. I panicked.
And then, an idea hit me. I felt around my pockets frantically, found my cell phone, and dropped it on the driver's seat.
"Keep it turned on; I'll call you!"
If she said anything, her words were swallowed by the angry chorus of several horns that erupted right then. I slammed the door shut once more, almost tripped over my own feet stepping back, and then gave Nora a super-dorky thumbs-up before turning around and making my way to the revolving door.
********************************CPOV***********************************
"Ugh, Cody, just chill already!"
I looked up from my – expectedly – lifeless cell phone display to aim a perfectly pointed glare at London, who was posing gracefully on a couch in the center of the hotel lounge. She lifted one eyebrow.
"What? Your stupid pacing is making me dizzy!"
I took a deep, shaky breath and marched over until I towered over her. "My brother is out on the streets, alone, in the dark, and I haven't heard from him in hours. Anything could happen to him – anything could have happened already – and I have no idea what to do, but I sure as hell will not chill!"
London lifted her other eyebrow, shrugged, and, while inspecting her pink fingernails, said: "OK then, but don't come crying to me when you get AIDS!"
"Uh, pacing won't give me AIDS." I frowned.
"No, but sleeping outside and eating out of trash cans because Daddy kicked you out of the hotel will!"
Automatically, I opened my mouth to tell her that wasn't how you got AIDS, but since she did make a valid point about kicking me out, I decided to let it go. Instead, I forced myself to sit in the second sofa, close my eyes, and try to calm down.
It was not exactly easy. Contradictory emotions were having a tug-of-war for my attention. I felt guilty for being the reason behind Zack's frustration that had made him run off; the feeling wouldn't go away no matter how often I reassured myself that it wasn't my fault that Zack loved me, that there was nothing I could have done to prevent it.
However it was soon outweighed by white hot anger at Zack, anger at his stupidity, his pride, his egotism, and this entire mega-crappy situation that was messing with both our lives.
Right about then, anxiety returned full force and I immediately felt guilty again for being angry at my twin and went back to imagining in detail all the nasty things that might be happening to him.
"He's going to be fine, you know." London's voice was soft and almost compassionate. I snapped out of a very vivid and terrifying clip of Zack being raped by skinheads and looked at her in utter surprise.
"Wow… Thanks, London!"
She smiled. "Yeah, I mean – he's a boy, he's poor, and he's unattractive. No one would want to kidnap him."
I gasped in irritation and was just about to yell away at her no matter what her Daddy could or could not do to me, but in that instant, I caught a glimpse of blonde hair moving swiftly through the lobby behind her.
A wave of relief flooded my mind and heart. Within a blink of an eye, I had leapt up from the sofa, run over to where my brother was unsuccessfully trying to hide behind a vase, and hugged him so hard he gave a pained moan; I backed away from him and looked him up and down, relief turning partially into worry.
He was seriously not looking good. The skin on his arms was scratched and had big bluish marks. His pants were torn at the knees and now that I examined him more closely, he seemed pretty shaky.
"What-" I began to ask. Then, my eyes zapped back to his face and I noticed the distinctly defiant expression on it. That's when I finally remembered how mad I was at him for having me waiting down here for hours without so much as a sign of life.
I put on a stern and cold face. "I am so angry at you that if I were a wound, you wouldn't be sleeping tonight!" My make-pretend calm was slipping and I quickly took a breath, trying to restore it. "In fact, I'm not even talking to you. You just wait until Mom gets her hands on you."
He made a face but didn't speak; instead he started limping toward the elevators. I followed for a few painfully slow paces, then I couldn't stand it any longer and wordlessly draped his arm around my shoulder to support him.
"Thanks", He said.
"Oh, shut up", I answered.
What do you think Carey's gonna do? What is Nora's part gonna be? Will Cody fall in love with Zack? Will Elliott ever sing on stage? Will there be a big old pie party in Mr. Moseby's kitchen? Well, you'll never know unless you stay tuned – let's all just keep our fingers crossed so it won't take me another year to write the next chapter!