3. Fruit-Caked
The going-away party was truly 'happening' – at least as far as Schuyler thought as she arrived well into it. It could be a dud for all she knew – parties were foreign to her. What was certain was that she felt suffocated by all these hyper, loud teenagers – she had to get in, do the interview, and get out ASAP. But how was she supposed to secure ten minutes alone with the guests of honor?
"I'm not gonna think about it...not gonna," she chanted to herself as she hovered by the entrance. She stared at the people convulsing on the dance floor and sighed. "Teenagers." She hugged her clipboard to her chest and began walking toward the bar, taking the opportunity to recite the script she had written for tonight. "Heeeey guys! I'm Schuyler Reeves, junior reporter for the AGHS Temporibus. I know Miss Landau already conducted an interview of her own, but I...but I...aw, dammit." She sat and slumped on the the last available stool, setting her clipboard down in front of her. However, as she tried to memorize once again, she was stopped short by the events of earlier in the evening replaying in her mind.
Schuyler sat at the side of the long dinner table in her dining room. Her step-mother, Tyla, and her father, Charlie, sat at the heads. Across from Schuyler was her five-year-old half brother, Georgie, who was stuffing his already puffy cheeks before anyone else had taken a bite of their plates. That was mostly due to Charlie being busy telling Tyla about his workday, and Schuyler being preoccupied with chopping up her salad with a butter knife.
"So, Sky," Tyla said, sliding her utensils closer to her plate and smiling all-too wide. "I take it your job hunt isn't going too well, sweetie."
She stopped her chopping but didn't bother looking up. "Nope."
"Oh, that's alright. I've solved your problem for you!" She giggled. Charlie didn't comment, but he looked embarrassed. "I took Georgie down to the Juice Bar – you know, in that cute little Youth Center – today for a smoothie, and I had a nice little chat with the owner. He's looking for an extra set of hands to help him out." She wiggled her eyebrows.
"Isn't the Youth Center supposed to be for, you know, youths?"
"Exactly!" Her sudden burst of excitement startled everyone – even Georgie took pause before going right back to inhaling his food. "Who better to work there than you?"
Schuyler gaped. "...You're kidding, right?"
"Look," said Charlie, putting his atop hers. "We just want you to check it out. And hopefully take it."
All sorts of witty retorts rose up in her throat – mostly about how Tyla didn't even have a job and got to sit on her toned butt all day, but that would only put her on ice with them. That, and visions of an orange '72 Gran Torino Sport – one that could only be bought with money she earned – danced in her head. "Sure, whatever."
"Maybe you could ask about it at the party tonight," Tyla suggested. Schuyler was about to ask how even she knew about the party but she held her tongue once more. "Eat your carrots, dear."
"'Eat your carrots, dear'," Schuyler mocked, making faces and bopping her head around. "'Eat your lettuce, honey. Eat your peas, sweet pea.' Haha, Tyla, you are so funny..."
"...Uh," said the person who had suddenly manifested in front of her, "is all that what you want in your smoothie?" She looked up to see a hefty man dressed a tropical-print shirt and apron (his fluffy hair also being of note) standing behind the bar, looking at her with puzzlement. She flushed a little.
"Sorry. I got a little lost in my...yeah." She sighed. "Are you Ernie?"
"Last time I checked." He chuckled. "Still want that smoothie?"
"Oh, um, maybe later. Are you hiring?"
"I certainly am, if you're not gonna just stand around looking 'pretty' like my last kid did."
"Well, I couldn't do that even if I tried, so I guess I'm qualified – even though I can't make any kind of food or drink worth my life." She chuckled, surprised at how readily she warmed up to working for this man.
"Eh, it's not hard once you've gotten the hang of it. And you'll be waitressing and busing, so it won't be all food."
"...Yay." The eagerness was already starting to go away at the thought of forced interaction with the rest of these kids.
"Well great. You can start the day after tomorrow after school. And your name is...?"
"Right. Duh." She slapped her forehead. "Schuyler Reeves."
"Oh, that was your mom in here today. Nice lady. Very, uh...enthusiastic. Practically convinced me to start hiring."
"Yeah." That's an understatement.
"Well, I won't keep you from the party any longer. See you on Wednesday, Schuyler." He saluted her, then went in the back room.
"No; please keep me." She bit her lip, and went back to attempting to memorize. Just as she finally fixed her attention on it, a loud fanfare came from the TV on the other side of the bar. Wonderful; the news. At a party.
"This just in. We've just gotten word that once again the amazing Power Rangers have saved our fair city and the world from one of Lord Zedd's lethal monsters. Eyewitnesses report that after a lengthy battle..."
"Eyewitnesses...hah; no regular person could get that close without being brutally injured beyond the point of recounting information. And that's recycled footage from two days ago! What's the station pulling?" she blurted, rolling her eyes. The two skimpily-dressed girls seated next to her giggled in unison.
"Who cares? It's still about the Rangers," said the red-head, sighing dreamily.
"Yeah, they're dreamboats," said the brunette, twirling some hair around her finger. "The guys, I mean."
Schuyler tried to hold in her laughter, but she just couldn't help herself. "Uh, I'm sorry; you're referring to the Power Rangers, right?"
"Well duh. What of it?" the red-head hissed, attempting to look menacing.
"Oh, shit, I'm so intimidated right now." Schuyler held up her hands and feigned an expression of fright. "The Power Rangers are nothing but corporate fruit cakes. And the aliens aren't much better, though at least they do some damage."
The girls gasped – in unison yet again. "Ohmigod; are you siding with the things that, like, wanna kill us?"
"No! Well, not really. Have you ever seen those guys on TV in their flashy spandex and tacky bike helmets? They're so cheesy! Some middle-aged government employee has to be writing their catch-phrases for them; even kids don't talk like that. That, or someone pulled them out of a newspaper comic from the thirties. They preach good will and giving back and all that crap. What ever happened to beating bad guys to a pulp for vengeance and justice and the sake of breaking faces?" By the time she finished, the girls were long-gone. She took a sip of one of the smoothies they left behind. "Freakin' Power Rangers...eugh, kiwi and pineapple? Guess these are made to order; gee, won't my job be fun."
She turned her attention back to the crowd, only to see Melvin come and sit on the vacated stool right next to her. "I couldn't help but overhear you bashing our saviors, Schuyler." He wheezed. "I guess you can't help your opinion; being fresh meat and all."
"Dude, I moved here like two months ago. I think that's good time to watch enough news and form a valid opinion. And you know how much I'm into comic books. If there's anyone whose word should be considered law on your 'saviors', it's me. I mean, Superman is more legitimate than these guys, and I hate Mr. Oh-Look-At-Me-I'm-So-Perfect-And-Indestructible-Here-Let-Me-Blind-You-With-My-Laser-Eyes-And-My-Bright-Costume with a burning passion."
"Oh please. Superhero comics are overrated. Description is far more stimulating than pictures. Say, while I have you here, what exactly do you plan to do about your performance on the paper?"
"Screw stimulation. Ever thought a lack of color in your life is the reason you're such a stickler, Melvy?" She had to stop and contemplate his question. "Well...I'm trying my best to get credible infor-"
"Not good enough!" He pounded his fist on the bar and – surprisingly – didn't recoil. "The only things you didn't mess up were your start-up jobs: weather and cafeteria trends. Because there is no possible way a human being with a functioning brain could mess those up. Why I promoted you, I'll never know." He took a moment to seethe – only to to straighten back up and glare at her. "Don't call me Melvy."
Schuyler ran a hand through her hair; she was fighting a losing battle. "Well, y'know, it's a lot of pressure!" She nearly facepalmed. "With you always breathing down everyone's' necks, how does anyone get anything done?"
"In case you haven't noticed, dear Schuyler, we do."
"Oh, and who reads the paper again?"
He was silent for only a moment. "That's not the point!" He pressed his lips into a firm line, contemplating something of his down. "Or perhaps it is. Alright, you think you have the Midas touch? I'll let you write one more story; any topic of your choosing. If it boosts readers and popularity, I'll keep you on the paper – even promote you. If it doesn't – which is the most likely outcome – you're fired. Deal?"
I'm so fired. "Deal." She extended her hand for a shake, but upon realizing that he hadn't extended his (and that she was about to shake a hand that could have been anywhere), she put it back at her side and puffed out her cheeks "So, um, should I still do the companion piece for Lilly?"
He threw his head back and cackled. "I don't care what you do at this point! You're practically off the paper already!" At the sight of Billy Cranston walking up the stairs, he froze. He slid off his seat and galloped over to him. "Oh William? Valued colleague? Hold your horses!"
Billy resisted the urge to cringe. "Er, hello Melvin. I don't mean to come off as offensive, but can't whatever you wish to speak to me about wait until tomorrow? You should be enjoying yourself."
"I am; this'll only take a minute." He put his arm around Billy's shoulders, and began strolling with him toward the exit. "Have you begun working on your science fair entry yet?"
"I've drawn up some preliminary concepts, but nothing more." Billy looked pained, but he doubted Melvin would notice. "Yourself?"
"Oh, pretty much the same. Just some blueprints." He puffed out his chest. "Think you'll beat me again this year, old bean?" There was a threatening edge to his voice.
"I think it's far too early to make any assumptions about the outcome, especially when the other entrants haven't been announced." An uncomfortable chuckle escaped his lips. "Well, I'm afraid I've reached my destination; this table here. With all my friends. I'll see you in school!"
Melvin bowed his head to him and made his way back into the crowd. He smiled wickedly. "That you will, Cranston. I'll finally beat you this year; I know it."
"Yes, I think I finally have it down!" Schuyler declared, waving her clipboard around frantically. She turned around and hopped off the stool – only for her eagerness to disappear completely at seeing the cluster of kids again. "Do I really wanna have to deal with this every day? ...Do I actually wanna do something my parents want me to do for my future?" She stood there and pondered. "Ugh, think about the car, think about the car...eh, I've got other things to worry about right now. Ahem. Heeey, guy – wait, that sounds desperate. Hello, then. I'm Schuyler Reeves, junior reporter for the...oh gosh, why call myself a 'junior'. It is my job title, but that just sounds sad. Who knows how much longer I'll be keeping it, anyways. So, reporter for the AGHS Temporibus. I know Miss Landau – ew no, I'm not calling her that. I know Barbie already conducted the...no, I think I wrote 'did'...crap, this is the part I always forget."
As she looked once again at her sheet, she grew so frustrated on the words that her peripheral vision blurred. Which was why she walked head-first into a pole. The sting of embarrassment bothered her more than the bump, so she did the most logical thing that her now-foggy brain could concoct: she ran for the exit, interview be damned.
Lilly, who was dancing with Jason by the doorway, grabbed the runaway reporter by the arm and grit her teeth. "Reeves, what are you doing?"
"Uh, I have to go...powder my lawn." Her face was expressionless.
"And by doing that, what else are you doing?"
She deflated. "Missing the interview."
"Uh, everything alright?" asked Jason, looking a little concerned.
Oh bless his heart, hot and sweet. Why does he have to leave?, Lilly thought, huffing. She pursed her lips, then took hold of his shoulder.
"Just fine," she purred. "Say Sky, you know Jason, don't you? One of the guys selected for the peace conference?"
Schuyler froze, shifting her gaze back and forth between her clipboard and the boy. "Um, n-no." He was about to formally introduce himself, but she immediately launched into her 'interview'. "Hello, I am Schuyler Reeves, ju- I mean reporter for the AGHS Te-Temporibus. I know Barb- ffff Lilly already conducted an interview, but I would like to inquire more about your future experiences to quench the desire of every student in our school who want to gain the maximum amount of knowledge on this subject." She took a deep breath, but that didn't stop her from beginning to hyperventilate. Not a second later, she ran outside, leaving Jason perplexed and Lilly hiding her face in her hands.
"Did I miss something?" Jason tried to hide an amused smile.
"I am so sorry. She's the girl who was supposed to interview you this afternoon. She has...I don't even know what's wrong with her." After yet another lip purse, she groaned. "I'll be right back; don't go anywhere."
"Oh, I don't plan to." He smirked. She flashed him a sly grin, then marched out to the bike racks, where Schuyler hovered and tried to catch her breath.
"What the hell is your problem?" she barked, pulling at her hair. "I practically shove one of them at you for the goddamn interview and you still can't do it!"
"In case you weren't listening when I started working for the paper, I have people issues. I don't do well in big situations. So just lay off, alright?"
"What are you doing as a journalist then? News flash: it's a job that requires you to talk to people; mostly in public settings. And not only that, but do you ever take things seriously?"
Schuyler made faces at her as she awkwardly mounted her neon-yellow bike. "I happen to take my writing very seriously."
"BS. I know you don't take schoolwork seriously, because you missed class today and yet showed up perfectly healthy to the Temp – which meets during the school day, if you'd forgotten. And you can't even take people who risk their lives to save ours every single day seriously! You know, you're better off as monster bait at this point."
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of my decrepit bike riding away!" In a stunning show of maturity, she did in fact pedal away, running over Lilly's foot in the process. "I'm monster bait? Well you're monster chum! That's worse!"
As Lilly nursed her foot, she fumed as she hopped onto the tar. "Well at least I get to make out with someone tonight and you're just alone! ...Wow, that's pathetic." With a sigh, she shook out her foot and returned to the party.
The pathetic failure of Serpentera put Lord Zedd into a bit of a rut. Destroying an entire planet simply was not enough when the Power Brats failed to be eliminated along with it. How much longer would he have to try and fail?
"Finster!" he roared at the shaking creature in question, who was currently standing in front of the throne. "Where is Serpentera's battery enhancer? I requested it two days ago!"
"Well, m-my lord, it is impossible to create a potion that could power an electric object," he sputtered, "though I did try!"
"Try? If you tried, I would have something!" He pounded his staff on the floor. "Make a monster to power it if you have to! Oh, wait; it would just fail." He turned away from him and went to the balcony. "Get back to work, and do not rest until you make me something to power Serpentera!"
As he scurried back to his workshop, Zedd gently massaged his exposed brain. "Oi, what I have to put up with." He looked scornfully down on planet Earth. "Let's see how Angel Grove fairs as it sleeps soundly – for now." He turned on his visor-vision and surveyed the city. He grew bored with the lack of activity and was about to retire to bed, but an object that had washed up onto Angel Grove Lake caught his attention.
"Could it be..." he muttered as he scrutinized the object. He made out a very familiar-looking chest. "Yes! The Power Eggs!"
"The Power Eggs, my lord?" Goldar called as he shuffled into the room. "But the Rangers cast them into the sea when Rita tried to get her grubby hands on them!"
"Where do you think the chest washed up, Goldar? A pumpkin patch? I'm not wrong; I'd know that chest anywhere. And unlike that hag, I won't fail to obtain them." He laughed as he thought of the chaos he would unleash on Earth with them. "Come; we will retrieve them tomorrow."
"But master, if you have them in your sight now, why wait until to-"
"You dare question my plan?" Zedd roared, glowing red. Goldar cowered in fear and shook his head. "Now to bed!"
Please R&R, folks!