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vanchlo · 5 years ago

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The Assistant / Chapter Twenty Five, “A New Hope”

// FIND OLD CHAPTERS HERE //

hi!!!! i hope you’re all doing okay and hanging in there during this crazy time in the world. please know that im thinking of you, and please stay safe and healthy!!! id love to hear what you think of this chapter so plz like reply with thoughts or send me an ask??? id love to talk to anybody about this story bc it sounds weird but i love this story too???? like tell me what was your fav part??? what do you predict is gonna happen?

thanks so much for still reading after all of this time, and i hope this chapter distracts you from some of the crap going on in the world ♡♡♡♡

*SNEAK PEEKY TIME*

“But some moments when I’m so deep into my work, a thought pops into my head making me think that I’ll look up and see him there. Or some days I even think I hear his voice. Or I think the text I just got was from him.

None of that happens.

And it upsets me far more than it should. Some days I’m just better at ignoring it.

I couldn’t have wished for a better “new job,” but sometimes I miss him. And I don’t know what to do about it. Because there isn’t anything I can do. I know I made the right decision to leave, but in the moments I get overwhelmed and frustrated with learning new tasks, I wish I could be sitting back in that desk down the hall from his office.”

PART TWO: THE STRANGER

The noises here are all new and hard to get used to. The printer works differently. It’s like a maze in order to find the department I work in. There are key codes I have to put in and doors I have to scan my badge at. There are so many more names to learn here, and new phone extensions to master.

But I like it.

And I think I’m getting the hang of it. Slowly but surely.

“It’s Becky, right?” a voice says, pulling me from my chaotic thoughts.

I blink, looking away from my steaming cup of tea and to the face smiling at me.

“Uh yeah, it is. And you’re . . . Molly, right?”

“Yeah, wow! You’re good at names!” she laughs before sipping from her own cup of tea and taking a seat beside me. “How are you liking it here so far?”

“It’s good so far, thanks,” I reply, picking up my tea and blowing on it. Avoiding her round brown eyes, I think hard about where I’ve seen her before. She must be in the same department if she’s in this break room. Hmmm. I hate it when I can’t remember things even though it’s on the tip of my tongue.

“You used to work for Styles and Lawson, did I hear that right?” Molly asks before taking a long pull from her mug. She crosses her legs clad in black slacks that end at the polka-dotted blouse hugging her large chest.

If I got a pound for every time somebody has asked me that here, I wouldn’t even have to work here.

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to sound how annoyed I am to have to answer this question for the hundredth time. I told my new boss this once, and somehow everybody in the Administration department now knows it.

“Interesting. It looks like you stayed in the same world coming to work at the courts,” she remarks and I nod blankly.

Yeah, as if I haven’t heard that one before in the last month, too.

I continue to smile and nod at her repetitive questions. I sometimes answer them and then listen to her drone on about her three kids until the small hand reaches the 6 on the clock and my break is over. I’ve never been so excited before to go back to work.

Sitting down at my desk, I almost smile at the way the cushion welcomes me back. Framed pictures smile back at me.

Skye and I. Robbie and I as kids in matching outfits. My dad. My grandparents.

The same ones I had on my old desk. At his firm.

My chin arrives in my hand and a heavy sigh falls from my lips. The little pink clock on my desk tells me it’s only 12:30 in the afternoon.

I wonder what he’d be doing right now.

My eyes fall shut with a groan. I try to shake my head free of those kinds of thoughts. The very thoughts I’ve been trying to push away this last month. But after so long, it’s almost too hard. I thought that the more time that passed would make it easier, but some days it’s harder than others.

I really like it here. Everybody is nice and helpful. My boss is easygoing, supportive, communicates well, and helps me with any questions I may have. My workload is realistic, it’s familiar, and I enjoy it.

But some moments when I’m so deep into my work, a thought pops into my head making me think that I’ll look up and see him there. Or some days I even think I hear his voice. Or I think the text I just got was from him.

None of that happens.

And it upsets me far more than it should. Some days I’m just better at ignoring it. I couldn’t have wished for a better “new job,” but sometimes I miss him. And I don’t know what to do about it. Because there isn’t anything I can do. I know I made the right decision to leave, but in the moments I get overwhelmed and frustrated with learning new tasks, I wish I could be sitting back in that desk down the hall from his office. I tell myself that I just miss the familiarity. But I know that I also miss him.

His sweet cherry smile.

His contagious laugh.

His bizarre outfits that I looked forward to every day.

His twinkling green eyes.

The taco dates.

The late-night hangouts in his office with wine coolers and take away.

The silly yet frustrating Scrabble games.

His smell. Sandalwood mixed with bergamot and cedar.

And his jokes.

His raspy deep drawl.

And his warm bear hugs.

Pressing my fingers into my temples, I blink hard. The thoughts disappear for a second, but not long enough. I lift my head and settle my fingers on the letters of the keyboard. The login screen is only blurry for a moment, and the moment passes. But the ache in my chest and the racing inside of my skull doesn’t stop. They only continue as I open up a document and continue my work, as I continue missing him.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop.

12:30 right on the dot.

The black second-hand ticks past the three nears the four, and then the five. Fat snowflakes fall against my foggy window, blanketing the rest of London in its opaqueness. The words of David Gilmour and Roger Waters tickle my ears, but I don’t listen to them. The thoughts whirring around inside of my head keep them out.

I wonder what she’s doing right now.

Is she liking her new job?

Are they being nice to her?

Did she already eat lunch?

Are any blokes flirting with her?

Does she have her own desk?

What kind of place does she work at now?

Is she happy?

That thought weighs heavier than the others, and I feel it. My lips part and a long sigh leaves them.

Knock knock!

“Yeah?” I call out, not bothering to turn around. The bustling of double-deckers, cars, and people on the streets are more entertaining than any emails I should be reading.

“Harry, are you going to join us?” I hear a familiar voice ask.

“Yeah, ‘ll be there inna minute,” I answer, ignoring the tone of Myles’ voice.

The sound of the door closing trickles past the music and into my ears. My head falls into my hands and I let my eyes close. My fingers find their way into my hair and I remain there for a second, feeling my breaths leave and enter me.

I miss you, Becks.

A few breaths later, my fingers fall. Now, they find the closed laptop sitting near me and the leather book atop it. Next, my feet find their way to the door. But they stop in front of it. All of the moisture in my throat suddenly disappears, and a giant old lump appears in its place.

Oh, not again.

I breathe in and out and wait until it passes.

My ringed fingers wrap around the handle and turn it. Swallowing past the lump, my feet move again and down the hall. Knuckling at my eyes, I round the corner and quickly wipe at my eyes.

“You okay, Harry?” Myles asks me, welcoming me when I sit down beside him in the large meeting room.

“Yeah, jus’ got somethin’ in me eye,” I tell him, gulping hard. But there’s something in his ocean blue eyes that says different. He’s been a blessing putting up with my shit and excuses, but I think he knows more than he lets on. He’s always cared more than he shares.

He pats my arm before he turns to face Jennings who begins to talk. “It’ll be alright, it always is,” he mentions in a whisper.

I nod and turn my attention to Jennings. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t. I can’t focus, and I can’t believe him. Because the chaos of my mind continues. And so do the pictures of her scattered around in there. And so do the feelings, because no matter how hard I try to shut them off, they stay. Even after a bottle of brandy. But the alcohol doesn’t make me stop missing her, and hating myself for messing up. And for losing Becks.

Alex Trebek’s voice welcomes my ears as I step foot into my flat. I jump when I hear Skye shout back at him.

“What is Little Women!” she nearly screams, and her arms fly into the air when she gets it right. “Yessssss!” she exclaims, cheering for herself. Her pigtails the color of snow and blue cotton candy dance in the air around her.

I laugh with a shake of my head, sighing as I shrug off my coat.

“Oh hey, Boops,” she greets me, garnering an eye roll from me.

“You know not to call me that,” I reply, closing the closet door that now holds my peacoat damp from the winter flurries.

“I think I’m one of the few people allowed to call you that,” she replies, and I give her a glare in return.

To no surprise, it doesn’t do anything, because she just picks up another gummy worm and feeds it between her lips coated in neon pink lipstick.

“What, did your clients cancel their haircuts and colors because of the blizzard?” I ask her, padding over to the kitchen island.

“Yeah, bloody idiots forgot how to drive in the snow or something,” she nearly hisses, but it doesn’t last long because she yells another answer at the tv. “What is the Mariana Trench!”

“Skye, we have neighbors you know,” I scold her as my eyes search the shelves of our refrigerator. “Also, would it kill you to do some grocery shopping, perhaps before we’re snowed in?”

“Yeah sorry, I meant to but I forgot.”

“What’s new,” I mumble under my breath. I grab the first thing of leftovers I see and pop it into the microwave. Rice and broccoli from last night. It’s just so exciting eating healthily. “You’re on grocery shopping duty next then.”

“Have you seen Harry yet at your new job?” Skye pipes up, ignoring my question. I truly wonder how many times I roll my eyes at her in one day or even one hour.

“No, I told you that I’m in like the way back in the admin department in the courts. He would be on the other side in the actual courtrooms where the cases are held, silly.”

“Oh well sorrrrrrrrrry,” she retorts and then yells another answer at the tv. “Who is Martin Clunes!”

The microwave beeps as I reach up into the cupboard and pull down a mug at random. It has superheroes donning its sides - Batman, Superman, and Wonderman. An old one of my dad’s. But that’s not who it makes me think of.

“Funnier is not a word!”

“Oh yes, it ‘s! Jus’ look it up in tha dictionary, or better yet, on yer phone,” he giggles in reply. Shaking my head, I type the word into Google and feel a smirk begin to warm my cheeks.

“Oh god, what ‘s that look for? I know that look’s no good.”

“So funnier is a word, huh?” I counter, feeling the smirk inch up my cheeks slowly. Turning my phone around, I show the Google page to him and watch his face morph into denial. A sneaky grin lines his lips as he resists to roll his eyes. His head falls next with a defeated sigh and he punches the pillow.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Harry Styles,” I tell him, my lips letting loose a laugh. He joins me before groaning and taking his word off of the board.

“I needa break,” he huffs. The sofa whines from his shifting weight and I hear his footsteps trailing behind him.

“Tea break?” I ask and hear a pleased ‘yes’ in return.

“Here lemme, ‘s my turn anyways,” Harry insists, and I feel his hand on my back. Facing him, he winks a hazel-green eye at me. “Go pick yer word, Becks. Lemme take care of tha tea.”

I nod and begin to turn to walk away. I almost stop when I feel his long fingers rub a circle into my back. But I don’t, because they’re gone before I can blink. A silent sigh drops from my bottom lip as I walk away from him.

You have no idea what you do to me, Harry Styles.

The thoughts being sewn together in my mind revolve around something other than the Scrabble tiles sitting in front of me. Instead, they’re about how well the skinny blue jeans hug his legs and another asset of his. And how the black and blue flannel he wears makes him look insanely cozy. My God.

“Don’ think so hard, Becks,” Harry titters, and I pull my eyes away from the Scrabble tiles that were beginning to grow blurry. I look to him with a question on my face and find him laughing with those eyes on me. “Can’t find any good words, eitha?”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. I let my head fall to the back of the sofa I’m curled up against.

“Tha’s fine. Why dontcha put it t’ tha side an’ we can do somethin’ else?”

“Like what?” I ask, moving our racks of tiles to the coffee table where the board sits.

“I dunno, you can pick,” he answers. As I grab for the remote, I hear the pouring of water and the clinking of spoons.

Yawning, I sink into the sofa and press the power button. The television screen comes to life in front of me and the last thing watched appears. I flip through the channels, and after a couple of programs, I arrive on a familiar scene.

“Oooo, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,” I hear, turning to find Harry arriving on the sofa next to me. I take the steaming Marvel mug in his outstretched hand with a ‘thank you.’

“I didn’t know you liked Harry Potter,” I mumble before blowing on my tea. After deciding it’s far too hot, I sit forward and set it down on a coaster.

“Oh, I love it. I read a few o’ tha books when I was younger, an’ ya can’t find a betta movie. There’s nothin’ like these,” he answers, eyes already glued to the screen. He sets his tea aside with a clud on the table. “Here,” Harry says, and I look over to find him draping my velvet black star blanket over me. And him.

“Mmmm, thanks,” I mumble happily, pulling it up to my shoulders. I feel him move around next to me before finally getting comfortable.

“Yer welcome, bug. I think this issa good way t’ spend tha resta tha night. Too cozy an’ tired t’ do anythin’ else,” he comments with a laugh ending his words.

I nod and tip my head to the side, not expecting to find his shoulder right there. I freeze and peek a look up at him. He notices and glances down at me. All he does is smile at me before his eyes go back to the scene on the television.

I decide to stay there and he doesn’t seem to mind, only intent on commenting on the scene happening where Dumbledore first meets Voldemort. “Oooo, I like this part here. They make it look so cool with tha wisps o’ memories, an’ tha lighting ‘s incredible an’ so spooky.”

“Mmmmh, I always liked Tom Riddle, because of how creepy he is. And he’s much better looking than Voldemort,” I comment.

“What?” Harry laughs, taking a peek at me. His thick eyebrows are scrunched in a disbelieving question as a smile pinches his dimpled cheeks. “But Tom Riddle ‘s Voldemort, ya goof.”

“Yeah I know, but like his younger self is far cuter than the noseless bald bloke he becomes,” I try to explain, but he only shakes his head with a few giggles.

God, I think I could listen to that sound for hours on end.

“Ya don’ make any sense, sometimes,” Harry chuckles.

“Come on, yes I do! Wasn’t it like with every Horcrux he made he just started looking weirder?” I counter, nudging his shoulder with my own.

“No, ya silly! It was cuz he was so deep into tha dark arts-.”

“Including making the Horcruxes!” I almost shout in argument. I watch the realization embed into his features, and I know I’ve won.

“Okay fine, yer right. Well kinda. From what I rememba it has t’ do with that, an’ cuz he was a Slytherin an’ Parselmouth so he wanted t’ look like a snake. Y’know, tha lack o’ hair an’ nose? I also read that it could also be cuz he was one o’ tha last descendants of Salazar Slytherin,” Harry continues, words of admiration falling out one after the other.

“Woooooow. I didn’t know we had a Harry Potter geek in the house,” I say, trying to stifle a laugh, but it doesn’t work.

Another eye roll.

Then possibly the most adorable pout I’ve ever seen as he moves away from me with a whimper.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I laugh, trying to pull him back over to me. But he’s so tall and long, that I have little success with my noodle arms. “Harry, I was just kidding.”

“Sure ya were,” he pouts, keeping his back to me as he settles on the other side of the couch.

His name leaves my lips in a laugh. My fingers remain around one of his biceps, and I pull, but he doesn’t move an inch. I give up with an exaggerated sigh and my own whimper.

Plopping myself back in my spot, I hunker down underneath the blanket. Pretending to watch the movie, I wait.

“Yer not gonna get me with that pout,” Harry says all of a sudden.

Taking that as a dare, I slowly look over at him. With knitted eyebrows and my bottom lip sticking out. A smile appears on his lips and blush fills his cheeks. His hands fall from his shoulder-length hair he’s just put into a bun.

“Fine, ya got me. I can’ stay mad at that face,” he relents with words dipped in sugar.

“You’re not the only one who can do a good puppy dog pout,” I comment as the couch dips with his movements. I feel his shoulder bump back into mine. I try not to smile too big as I tip my head to fall back against his shoulder.

“Ya comfy, bug?” Harry mumbles next to me.

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Good, ‘m glad me shoulder’s all comfy for ya,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. I see it in all its glory when I chance a look up at him and find him smiling down at me.

It’s like looking into the sun. And like all of the times before - I never want to look away.

I swallow hard, feeling the lump forming inside of me.

“Can you please not bring him up anymore? It’s not helping the fact that I’m trying to forget him,” I spit at Skye, setting the mug down hard on the granite countertop.

“Sorrrrrrrrrry. Goodness, what’s gotten into you today? I thought you were liking your new job, Ree.”

“I am, I just don’t want to talk a-about Harry anymore,” I reply, pressing the button to open the microwave. The smell of broccoli and garlic trickles past me.

“You can’t even say his name,” she laughs, and I groan as I stir the broccoli and brown rice around in the hot glass bowl. “Heeeey, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know why you gave up on him, you could always go back and finish your . . .”

Skye’s words trail behind me as my feet pad down the hallway to my bedroom. You’re not helping me to forget him, Skye.

You’re only making me remember him, and I’ve been trying so hard lately not to.

My quilt several shades of pink welcomes my return as I plop onto my bed. Shoveling a bite of broccoli and garlic rice into my mouth, I grab the remote and turn on my tv. Reaching for the Fire Stick remote teetering on the edge of the table, I push it and instead of grab. It clatters to the hardwood floor and I groan in response. Setting my dinner on the wood table, I regrettably leave my bed to retrieve it. Flicking on my lamp, I squat by the table and peer into the space behind my table.

There it is. The long black rectangle waits for me there. But just as I’m reaching for it, another rectangle catches my eye. This time, it’s a white one.

“Huh?” I mumble, feeling the stiff paper welcome my hands.

I flip it over and the light catches on it. The long envelope stares back at me, and so do the letters on its front. My name in black pen interrupts the white expanse, but that’s not the writing that I’m focusing on. It’s the return address.

Styles and Lawson 418 Stevens St. London UK

Turning it over, I finger at the sealed edge. I don’t realize I’m doing it, but I bite at my bottom lip as I debate whether to open it. I can’t stop wondering what’s inside, and the postage date of December 18th only makes my curiosity burn brighter. And the fact that I’ve never seen this before in my life.

“Skye, why do I have a letter from Styles and Lawson that I’ve never opened or seen before?” I yell to her through my half-open door.

“Oh, that? I put it on your bedside table when it came that day. How am I supposed to know why you haven’t opened it?” she quips, as dumbfounded as I am.

“It was behind my table, so it must have fallen.”

“Ya think?!” she replies with her usual loud volume, followed by another Jeopardy shout.

I rip it open without another moment of hesitation. The paper makes a satisfying sound. A matte white paper looks back at me. The numbers and watermark on it tell me what it is. My fingers recoil instinctively when I touch the glossy object. I instead pull it out by its edges.

Splashes of red and green and long-forgotten faces stare back at me. Myles. Mickey. Rose. Jennings. Myles. Rory. And Harry. Their faces are followed by the words “Merry Christmas from all of us at Styles and Lawson. Wishing you a happy Christmas and a fantastic New Year!” in a blocky white font. Little holly berry branches decorate the corners of the picture. A picture taken months ago at one of their big meetings, I assume. The sun is shining in through the window, and Harry’s hair isn’t as long. Everybody’s arms are around each other and a big goofy smile sits on his face. Tongue out and all.

I do it before I can stop myself. My finger dances around the outline of his face, and down the black and maroon suit he wears in the picture. Probably the only printed picture I have of him, and one of the few I have in total. But there are enough burned into my brain that I’m already trying to erase.

I toss them both onto the floor, leaving them behind my table where I wish they would’ve stayed in the first place. I return to my broccoli and rice and play a new video on YouTube. It does a good job of drowning out his voice in my head, but not good enough.

I want ya t’ come back, Becks. I want us t’ try again . . .. . . ..

Shades of brown dance around in the steaming water. I watch them twirl together and meet one another. The water slowly grows darker and darker as steam rises off of the surface.

“If you stare any harder, I think your superpowers will come out and it’ll explode,” somebody says wryly.

“Wow, I didn’ know you were a comedian,” I respond, wrapping my fingers around the warm metal chain.

“I didn’t know you were eco-friendly all of a sudden,” Myles says, nodding his head towards my cup of tea. “Or a little kid, with that dorky thing.”

“Oh shuddup,” I respond, watching the brown liquid fall from the pink silicone pig tea infuser. “It makes me feel good tryna save tha environment, an’ this li’l thing ‘s bloody cute.”

“Sure, if you’re a bleeding first-grader,” he responds with a titter, pulling a mug down from the shelf.

“Yer jus’ jealous,” I quip as I pry off the pig’s head and dump the soggy tea leaves into the waste bin.

Myles laughs and walks around me to the black fridge to take out the carton of milk. I blow on my steaming mug, watching little waves form in the brown water from my breath. A little water tornado forms from my next breath. I watch in fascination as it twirls around in the mug before finally tapering out.

“You okay, Hare?” Myles asks, his voice taking on a softer tone. A friendly tone. “You haven’t seemed like yourself lately. You haven’t even been drinking coffee much, and that’s odd.”

“I’m fine,” I answer, bringing the mug to my lips and avoiding his eye contact. Setting the mug down on the counter, I chance a look inside the fridge and wonder what to have for lunch.

“Is it Becky leaving? Is that why you’ve been acting differently?” Myles prods, nearly pulling a sigh from my lips. Or a groan.

“I said ‘m fine, My,” I nearly retorted, my eyes glazing over the lone yogurts and forgotten sandwiches occupying the shelves. Slamming the door, I walk away and pick up my phone from the table in the center of the room. Maybe some takeaway.

“Hare, you know you can talk to me about it,” Myles insists, throwing his hands up in the air. I ignore him, typing something on my phone, but I can see him out of the corner of my eye.

Like he often does, he uses his hands to talk and they jump in the air only to fall with an exasperated sigh. Then they comb through his tousled blonde hair.

“I hate seeing you like this, and not knowing how to help,” he continues softly. I give up, pressing the lock button on my phone and shoving it into my pants.

I finally face him and look in his distraught brown eyes.

“I miss her, Myles! I connected with Becky, a-and I screwed it up. I called her a liar and Amber was harassing her tha whole damn time without me knowing!” I confess, feeling the weight of the words fall from my shoulders as I finally say them. But the emotion rises in my throat, no matter how hard I try to hold it back. “She was amazing! She put up with me shit, and yet she stood up fer herself when she needed t’. She was funny, she was smart, she was beautiful, an’ I fooked it up!” The emotion eats at my words and by now, the horses are already out of their gates. And I don’t know how to corral them back in. “I hate feeling this way, but I dunno how you can help or even how I can help myself, Myles. So ‘m not g-gonna be myself ‘til I learn how t’ get ova this.”

I don’t know what to do. I steal a glance at him and find the sadness in his eyes is worse than before. I can’t handle it, and so I lift my feet and soon I’m walking out of the room. Leaving my tea, and the god awfully cute tea infuser pig. The one she got me before she left.

“I saw it and immediately thought of you.”

“Wow, thanks, that makes me feel all warm an’ bubbly inside.”

“No, silly, I just mean it looked like something you’d like. And since you drink tea so much. And you’ve been buying metal straws and bamboo toothbrushes . . It seemed fitting. And isn’t the little piggy just so cute?”

“Yeah, I guess yer right . . . it really ‘s cute.”

Winding my way around coworkers, I suddenly find myself in front of the elevator stabbing at the buttons. I don’t even register which one I’ve pushed, because I want to be anyplace but here. Today is worse than most because anywhere I look there’s a memory of her stuck there. And they jump into my head and start playing before I can stop it.

The elevator doors open with a ding and I step into the empty four walls, gladly. Rubbing at my eyes, I stab at the button for the parking garage my car is at. With a sigh, I feel some of the tension boiling inside of me leave. I get rid of the warm tears painted under my eyes and blink hard until my vision is clear again.

Suddenly, the doors open and I nearly curse out loud when I see who’s waiting. The look on his face says that he feels about the same way. I step to the side, allowing him room to join me. He almost changes his mind, but he steps on and presses the button for 17. An awkward silence surrounds us as the elevator hums to life, dinging with each floor it passes.

“Can I ask you a question?” I blurt out loud, doubting myself the second the words pass the threshold of my lips.

His confused gray eyes rise and lock with mine, a question on his face. “What?” he answers, nearly annoyed with me.

“I’m sorry, we’ve neva really talked and ‘ve neva been very nice t’ ya-,” I try, but he stops me.

“Yeah, you haven’t, Harry, and so why should I? The last time I did a favor for you it didn’t really turn out too great,” Asher responds sharply, moving further away from me shaking his head. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he changes his focus to that.

I look away and bite at my bottom lip.

Way to go, Harry.

But then the words are being shoved past my tongue and I can’t stop them.

“I . . . jus’ wanna know if she’s doin’ alright,” they say, and I’m not even sure if he heard me with how quiet they were.

Staring ahead, I see his head of blonde quiffed hair rise. He doesn’t say anything right away, but instead, he seems to think about it before he raises his head fully.

“She’s okay,” he responds, with certainty to his words. And with those words, they take a little more of the tension I feel coating my body.

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear that . . . Is she uh liking her new job?”

“Yeah, she said it’s good. I dunno if I should be telling you this, but uh she found a clerk job in town. The same sorta thing as what she did here, which is good and makes switching jobs easier,” he continues, and I soak up every word because they’re about her. I wish I could hear these words from her mouth. But I can’t, and that’s my fault.

“A-an’ they’re good t’ her there?” I continue, not knowing how to articulate the rambling thoughts in my head.

“Yeah, they are,” Asher says, looking at me briefly. I look back and I watch his expression soften. “She’s doing well, Harry. She misses it here sometimes, but she’s adjusting and I think she’s where she needs to be right now.”

He doesn’t get to say anything more, because the elevator doors glide open.

“Thank you, Asher . . I really mean it,” I tell him, giving a small smile. He nods and steps off and out of sight.

And thus began our random elevator talks. I looked forward to them, even if they only lasted a couple minutes. And even if I only got to hear a vague update about her. And even if it made trying to forget her harder.

The halls are quiet. A ghost town from earlier in the day where hundreds of feet traveled, and even just twenty minutes ago. But it’s the lunch hour, and everybody else has the same idea as me. To leave. Now, my black mod boots are the only sound on the speckled floors. The tall ceilings hide fluorescent lights and the gorgeous stained glass also hides, but from the snow. Identical snowflakes fall in the sky outside, and I pull my coat tighter around me in preparation to join it.

The snowflakes melt in my hair and try to fly into my face, the wind pushing them this way and that. My car takes forever to warm up, making me curse myself for forgetting my matching violet hat and mittens on my desk. It only has just begun to warm up when I pull up in front of the towering brick building. Flocks of people rush to the doors from their cars, and the other way around. The vents blasting out warm air hush when I turn the key, bringing the chill with it.

Well, this is it. My lungs heave a nervous breath and I try to sike myself up to even just open the door. But my thoughts get the best of me, and strings of what-ifs and doubts circle in my mind.

What’s the point?

What if it turns out the same way as before?

What if I can’t do it?

What if I’m not good enough?

What if I made the right decision to leave?

Why should I try again?

What if I don’t like it anymore?

How can I do it by myself again when I never could the first time?

What if I fail?

Finally, I open the door and get out before I can stop. And I decide to leave all of the what-ifs and doubts there. Behind me. I focus on picking up my feet and putting one in front of the other until I’m standing in front of the familiar doors I haven’t stood before in a long time.

The warmth welcomes me and so does the familiar smells of books and fried chips. The smells I always associated with this place. Lines of people fill the entrance and conversations paint the air. The Christmas decorations are long gone, and new knick-knacks and flyers replace them. Instead, cheesy Easter decorations line the bulletin boards. Yellow baby chicks. Pink fluffy banners. Easter eggs colored in patchy by tiny hands. Colorful signs advertise local events, reminders, schedules, and many more things I don’t have the time for.

Pushing back the sleeve of my coat, I peek at my watch. I have 20 more minutes until I have to be back at work. Oh goodness, I hope I won’t regret this.

But I don’t think I will, because I’m finally doing something about all of the nagging thoughts and ideas I’ve had the last few weeks. And I’m proud of myself for at least taking the first step.

Stopping in front of the Information Desk, I’m met with a cheery smile asking me how they can help me.

“Hi, I was hoping to speak with an advisor, a Mrs. Shepherd,” I begin, feeling the words roll off my tongue with hesitance. I’m surprised with myself for even remembering the name.

“Do you have an appointment with her?” she responds, looking away from her computer she types on.

“No, I uh was just on my lunch break and I was hoping to meet with her to speak about something.”

“Alright. I’m going to need your name and what your question is for her,” the lady replies, looking between her computer screen and me. I pause, focusing on the fake yellow chick sitting atop her screen. Her heavily lined eyes wait for me behind her pink framed glasses, and her curly brown hair dances in the wind from her mini fan.

“My name is Rebecca Holte, and I wanted to speak with Sally about finishing up my last 30 credits of my law degree.”

#the assistant #fanfic #writing #harry styles #one direction #1d #harry #au #harry au #alternate universe #lawyer au #lawyer #pa harry #fine line

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doverly · 5 years ago

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Rebellion, Shall We?

When students get fed up...

We were all sitting in class. Stone walls let in the early autumn drafts, so all of us were wearing the thin sweaters and barely-there jackets provided to us. All of the girls were trying to keep from shivering. Wooden floorboards lead to a wooden platform at the front of class. Ms. Rochester was droning on and on about the topic of the week, rows of glazed over eyes were gazing vaguely in her direction. Out of the exactly twenty people in the room, only three people were really paying attention. The three pre-chosen girls who were taking notes. Even though everyone’s eyes were on the teacher, their minds were on the vents. And when the time would come.

I was sitting in the first row nearest to the door, three seats down. Though I couldn’t see everyone in the room, only the teacher could do that, I was monitoring everything. From the scratches of the three pencils on the paper, to the mummers that were rising up from the back of the classroom. Turning around in my wooden desk, I silenced the mutterings with a look. It may have seemed like I did it on a whim, but I made sure that the teacher wasn’t looking. And I had to make certain not to jingle the chain that bound me to the desk. They were there so that no one could leave unless the teacher unlocked you. On a regular day when nothing was scheduled to happen I bet three people would have been either thrown out of the room, hit with the steel meter stick, or both even though we were only half an hour into class. But this was not a normal class, not in the slightest. None of us could afford to get in trouble, at least not until….

One of the notetakers dropped their pencil, it was almost time.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven,” I looked down at my antique watch, watching the second-hand tic down, “Six, five, four,”

Two of the girls slipped on masks, with the teacher none the wiser. Ms. Rochester had always had trouble looking up from her lecture book.

“Three, two, one.” I finished my count and held my breath. And it seemed like nothing happened.

I thought I smelled something, but those wearing masks felt it first. They fidgeted but didn’t cough, and I clenched my fist as I saw eyes begin to water. We couldn’t have done all of that for nothing, no it couldn’t be. When the teacher seemed unaffected, I had to blink back the water in my own eyes.

“Damn it, don’t tell me this was all for nothing,” I thought to myself, but just as I was giving into despair the teacher started coughing.

“And if you...and if you....just,” the teacher couldn’t even continue the lesson, she was coughing so much.

Ms. Rochester started doubling over, but still tried to continue the needless lecture. For a second I thought she had more endurance than I thought. That she was going to power through while having the reaction. I was wrestling with the fact that my initial impression of her was wrong when Ms. Rochester excused herself to the infirmary. Just as the mask-wearing girls were just reaching their breaking point. We received the vague instruction to copy from our textbooks and for a few minutes we were all quiet and compliant. But once the footsteps disappeared sighs were let out all throughout the room. Slipping the key from my pocket I unlocked my chains in a practiced motion. With an excited chill, I calmly walked to the front of the classroom, and stepped up to the teaching platform.

“Thank you, everyone, for being such model, model students today,” I started, almost laughing at how well my plan had worked out, “We could not have done this without Ms. Rochester not suspecting a thing. And the quiet environment you all created was perfect. All of you head down to the cafeteria, GiGi will have secured the cookies by now, free of charge ~of course~. Gwen, Vivian go to the Cedar Dorm, room 341. I’ll exhort you two there. And let me commend you two even though we got your EpiPens in the raid last week it’s still very brave of you two to come to class today. You guys get something very special later, trust me. And I want to emphasize to all of you, even though I’m being maddeningly vague about why we did all this, relax, everything I do, everything I ask you all, to do has a purpose.”

Once my speech was completed I went around unlocking everyone from the desks. Everyone started to head out of the classroom once they rubbed their ankles a bit. Normally I would have went on. As a sort of prelude to my speech later that night. Some verbal baiting about what I would announce that night, I needed to foster some curiosity after all. But I had more important things to deal with than my speech. With haste, I gathered up my backpack and started to escort Vivian and Gwen out the door. Though it was only when the door to the class opened and people started wandering out, did I remember I had something else to say.

“Oh right!” I said, slipping on my projecting leader voice once again, “We’ll be switching note-takers tonight, so Cecile, Sera, Phoebe, you guys are off duty.”

There was a large murmur of discontent at that announcement, but I smiled when I heard three sighs of relief throughout my fellow students.

“No matter how big of a victory we just earned,” I thought to myself,” They’ll always find something to complain about.”

True to my word I walked the two coughing students out of the building and to the aforementioned dorm. The corridors of the buildings were identical, the walls were identical, and after a few turns, even the art of the walls looked the same. It was only when I got outside of the building did I breathe easy, but even that had a dark side. As I walked on the historical cobblestone paths I saw the grass, grass the painstakingly maintained by students in detention under threat of violence if even one blade was out of place. Trees blanketing the mountains in the distance were landmarks I could never get to. Through the brittle ivy, I saw the walls, walls that both blocked me in and kept me sane. I didn’t know how I would manage outside of the walls, and just that thought made me squirm.

Cedar Dorm wasn’t too far away, but by the time we were climbing the stairs, I was half carrying Gwen. Without knocking I kicked my way into room 341, ignoring the two half-dressed girls tangled around each other on one of the single beds. Placing Gwen on the bed and making sure Vivian was comfortable on the floor, I started digging through the boxes that were piled in the corner of the already cramped dorm room.

G. Harris

V. Derintime

I found them both in the first box and for a brief second, I thought about reconsidering my views on God. Luckily the moment passed. In quick succession I stabbed the corresponding EpiPens in the corresponding girls, and after a few minutes their couching began to subside. Thanks to the masks the reactions weren’t severe, so they wouldn’t need actual medical attention. Still I needed to make sure they were both okay, and by that, I mean someone else would have to make sure they were okay. And she should already be helping. When I turned back to the room I saw that the two girls had extricated themselves from each other, and were looking concerned at the two girls who had been stabbed, finally, they were doing their jobs. The washed-out plaid sheets on one of the beds were tangled, while the other identical bed was still occupied by Gwen.

“So the peanut dust worked?” Rebecca who had been on the bed asked, clearly trying to cut the supposed tension in the room.

I internally snickered. Whatever people choose to do in their free time was none of my business, but I could never understand why so many of my fellow students choose to spend so much time in bed together. That and why they had been so focused on jamming their tongues down the other’s throats to get the EpiPens ready in advance. But I supposed that everyone had to have their escapes.

“Like a charm, Ms. Rochester will be in the infirmary for a while,” I told her, selectively leaving out the heart aching few moments when Ms. Rochester did react to the allergens we deliberately pumped into the vents.

“And one of our biggest competitors, out of the way,” Rebecca nodded.

Bee who had been in the bed with Rebecca glared at us. She had been tending to the girls who had peanut allergies, taking their temperatures, that kind of thing. Covering them with blankets and administering more remedies, “How can you categorize this as a success? Gwen and Vivian almost didn’t make it here.”

“Perhaps if the EpiPens had been ready ahead of time, or if you two met us in the hallway they would be in better shape, “ I told her in a casual tone. I had struck below the belt. I knew that, but I didn’t like how she had said that. Sure I had taken some risks, but they would all payout in the long run. They just had to have patience, they would see that they would have to.

Bee shut up after that, and I felt a bit bad. But not bad enough to apologize. Instead I watched her as she tended to the girls. “Wounded in an attack.” That’s what I would tell everyone when I gave them their special reward that night. “Brave.” That’s the word that I would use. Even before they recovered fully I was composing my speech.

“Bravely they walked into the scene of one of our surprise attacks. Knowing that even though their allergies may be severe, the cause was more important. That we would take care of them. And that is my promise to you, to all of you. I will take care of you! It may take some sacrifice, it may take some work, but all of you, all of us will be okay!”

I sighed, it wasn’t quite right. “Okay” was a bit of a passive word, but I knew that I would figure it out by the night. In the meantime I sat down on the floor and started on my homework for the day. In the past, I would have gone to my own dorm, but…. Ever since I had started all of my little uprisings people would walk in and out of my room without warning. It hadn’t really mattered that my roommate didn’t know the meaning of locks before, but now it was a real pain in the neck. Like I would be just sitting on my bed reading and someone would walk in, demanding that I get them the letter their boyfriend from back home had sent. And of course, I would try to placate them, telling them the date of the next mailroom raid. But of course, they would argue, and eventually, they would take my advice and wait for the next raid, but only if I gave them some black market chocolate. It would take like half an hour and after only three minutes of homework or reading or whatever I was doing someone else would pop in. And the cycle would start again.

That’s why I had started hanging out in other people’s dorms to do everything, even sleep. I kept a spare uniform in my backpack so I didn’t even have to go to my dorm to change clothes every day. Now that I thought about it I hadn’t been to my dorm all that week, my clothes supply was almost through. And of course, there was another reason I hung out in other people’s dorms. I thought about that as I watched Bee and Rebecca C. try not to kiss each other as they hung around. Bee was the closest thing we had to a nurse aside from the school nurses, and they would never join our side. But Rebecca, Rebecca was someone I hadn’t thought would shack up with Bee. She was one of the first leads I had ever trusted enough to organize a raid, one of the last raids of the black market to be exact, but we hadn’t talked one on one in a while. It was fun to sort of spy on my close associates and friends, at least for an afternoon. Because what were they going to do, tell me to leave?

The afternoon passed quickly, with homework and studying. School was never a high priority for me, but my role made it important that I never let my grades drop again. A grade drop would mean a referral to the councilors, and I couldn’t afford any unwanted attention to myself. 5:00, I knew that the “study groups” were meeting. The designated note-takers from every class were sharing the notes, everyone copying them in their style just in case of any surprise note checks. 6:00, the “study groups” were dispersing and people were starting their nightlife routines. Blackmarket stores were opening up in dorms across campus, selling and bartering off everything from chocolate to stamps. Of course with my representatives watching their every move for overcharging or faulty products. I shuttered and my pencil shook when I thought of monthly tax collecting coming up, but steeled myself with the fact that we would have scored our big victory by then.

“Right everything will be better by Monday night, or we’ll all be in the principal's office,” I told myself, as an ultimatum of sorts.

7:00 Vivian and Gwen were well enough to leave. Still, it had been a traumatic experience so I gave them a couple of signed sick notes. It was enough to get them out of a day or two of classes. The notes were a prize in their own right, I could see the admiration in the eyes as I casually pulled the notes out of my backpack, but they weren’t their ultimate prize. 7:30 I was done with my homework and felt fully prepared for any pop quizzes. Rebecca and Bee were fingering each other under a blanket, and I figured it was high time for me to go.

“The meeting’s at 9:30,” I reminded them, though I'm not sure that they were listening, “I need both of you there.”

I could have stopped by my dorm and gotten some rest, but the meeting that night was way too important. So I walked to the art building. And even though curfew was officially at 9:00 I was getting some weird looks from every passing teacher. If the rest of the campus was drab, then the art building that drab with a layer of yellow. For flavor. Identical, by the book, 100% on the report card art pieces were hanging, decorating, and generally brightening up the space. Of course, the halls were dark and empty. Officially all campus buildings closed at 6:00. But if you were “checking on your art piece” no one would bother you. And finally I was there, the Gallery.

It was as big as a small auditorium and absolutely chocked full of art. Craft class tapestries up on the walls and paper lanterns glittering from the ceilings made this room everyone's favorite hang out in the school. When they could get in, technically it was only open during parent visitation week and board meetings, but stealing a key was child’s play. Feature dividers were up all around the room for the sole purpose of hanging up paintings the school found acceptable. Quietly just as I practiced and had done over and over again I pushed the feature walls out of the way so that when all of the girls were gathered there would be standing room. I even used all of the muscles that I had gotten from swimming to push all the sculptures into a corner as well. But not before I committed the layout to memory. When the art teacher went into the Gallery the next board meeting, nothing could be out of place. At the same time, I knew that across campus Emma D. was preparing the space for the meeting after the big meeting. A gathering that some of my more funny friends called the “After Party”. Once I was done clearing the room I sat on the stage that was intended to hold statues, waiting for people to file in.

The first was the cafeteria/kitchen team. Ladened with folding tables and “Midnight snack” they started setting up the spread for that night. Nothing too fancy just grapes, cheese, a bit of cured meat, but they were still better than what we got on a regular basis. I talked them up as they were working, just polite chatter, nothing serious. But I made sure that the girls’ lead GiGi would be at the After Party that night. Girls seemed to be drawn to the snacks by smell and soon the room was full. Normally with so many girls in such a space would have been deafening, but all of them knew the importance of silence.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” I said when I finally stood up on the stage, “As always we will start with the most mundane topics.”

I started with the freshman. Group A, then Group B, then Group C, then Group D. Picking note takers for all of them. It was by random draw so I had no say in the choices yet people still thought that I was picking favorites. It was even worse when I got to the sophomores. For yet another week I wasn’t chosen as a notetaker and I honestly thought that some girls would start knocking down tables. Bee calmed them down just in time though. The juniors and the seniors went much easier and pretty soon we were done, with the issue of note takers at least.

The complaint period was also a bit testy.

“My teacher is being so mean, poison her too!”

I told her that the poisoning was a one-time thing. The purpose of which would be revealed later in the meeting.

“I had to give Elly K. $5 and a kiss for a bag of skittles!”

Once I made sure that she wasn’t talking about the chocolate kiss I told her that I would look into it. Or more accurately I would have someone else look into it for her. Conveniently for her, Elly K. wasn’t at the meeting that night, I would make her face justice though. I promised the girl that.

“I have detention and three papers to write this week!”

Once I had thoroughly berated her for procrastinating so much, and not actually working in her study group I gave her a solution. No handouts from the cafeteria for a week and I would have someone write her essays. And I felt the future headache I would have when thinking of something to give the essay writers.

I announced for more comments or concerns, seeing as there were none I moved onto my main point.

“I’m sure that by now you have heard of our operation in Ms. Rochester's classroom” I started hearing the whispers blossom as I mentioned what was already on everyone’s mind, “To quell any rumors I will tell you what happened. Our brave field operatives Fiana and Emma B. released peanut dust into the vents that led to her classroom. As any sophomore in group C would know Ms. Rochester is very allergic to peanuts. The operation was a success, Ms. Rochester ran out of the class and Laurel K. the infirmary helper told us that she is stable.”

Cheers erupted when they learned of the operation and I paused to let them continue. Sophomores especially knew of the shame when Ms. Rochester forced them to put their own food in the trash and watched as she spit in it. When she tightened the desk bindings in response to a single sound. But getting back at a mean teacher wasn’t the reason for the operation. I thought about the look on her face as she raced out of the room. At least that wasn’t the only reason.

I put on my commanding leader voice once again, “But the real stars of the operation were the ones who really risked it all. Vivian D. and Gwen V. were in the classroom. And for those who know them, you know that these brave girls are allergic to peanuts. I gave them the option to cut class, I would have taken care of everything. But Gwen and Vivian are brave, they knew that only a totally normal class could get Ms. Rochester to let her guard down. They elected to stay in class and expose themselves to the peanut dust. Bee had their EpiPens but still, it was a risk. A risk that they have not been rewarded for yet. So Gwen, Vivian come up here, it’s time to get your just deserts.”

More cheers for Gwen and Vivian and I could feel the two girls’ popularity soaring. They pushed their way to the front, and I invited them to step up on the podium for me. Gwen’s black curls bounced as she climbed up and Vivian had to stifle a gasp. That was what I was aiming for, to seem larger than life. Once they were up beside me and staring out at the crowd, I started talking again.

“This operation highlights the one thing I have said to you time and time again as this year has gone one,” I told them, making sure to put emphasis on every word, “That we will dominate with school. It may take risks, it may take years, and it will take sacrifice, but we can do it together. And believe me, what I give to these brave girls is only a taste of what you will all receive in the near future.”

And with that, I pulled the ultimate reward out of my pocket. Two cell phones, one in a marble case and one in a flower case. And I handed them to their respective owners. The room was silent as Gwen turned on her phone, and I saw tears in people’s eyes as the start-up tone rang out throughout the room. Vivian actually did start crying when she looked at her lock screen. When the awe in the room hit its peak I spoke again.

“This weekend we will get all of the technology that this school has taken from us back,” I promised everyone, conviction filling every inch of my voice, “Ms. Rochester was only a test, this will be the true exam of all of us and all of the progress we have made. We will break into the Principal's storage room, take every piece of technology from the latest iPhone to the smallest Fitbit, and return them to their owners. Expect your phones by Monday or me to be in detention, that is my promise to you all this night!”

I stepped down from the podium and the room lit up with the closest thing to a roar they could manage an hour past curfew. Vivian and Gwen followed behind me and I whispered something urgent to them before the crowd swept me away.

“Tell me right away if someone takes your phones,” I told them quickly. And seeing the confused look on their faces I explained further, “Some people won’t be able to wait until Monday for contact with the outside world. Don’t let your phone’s out of your sight until Monday, tell me if you can’t find them.”

They nodded and I tried to dash out of the room. But still, I was accosted by people all the way to the door. Naturally, even though the meeting was over people were still milling around the room. We always staggered our exit time so there weren't hundreds of girls going back to their dorms in the middle of the night. I mean the shadows would be full of girls hiding in them. As always I was in the first group but even though the meeting ended at 10:00 I left the Gallery at 11.

I used the walk to the After Party to compose myself, think back about what I had said.

“Maybe I laid it on a little too thick with the brave stuff,” I said to myself, staring up at the moon.

Since I had announced the plan publicly there would be way more opposition. Even though the team leads and student government had known about it for weeks, I could tell that it would be a rough After Party. Still I walked all the way to Cypress Dorm, knowing that there would be hell to pay in the morning if I wasn’t there.

The Cypress Dorm was exactly like all of the other dorms scattered around campus. Three stores of red brick and small windows. With only the occasional dying planter box to break up the monotony. I climbed the stairs two at a time to the third floor, where I stopped at room 372. Redundantly knocking as well.

Hearing nothing inside the room I knocked again and hearing nothing I knocked a third time. An exasperated “come in'' echoed from inside the room. Stifling my smirk I walked inside and found the usual cluster of people in the usual configuration. Room 372 was used for storage so old furniture was stacked haphazardly across the space with only the cobweb scaffolding to keep them upright. Making it seem cramped and dim, even though the lights were on. In a rough cluster of chairs near the door were most of the people I could count on. Team leads and special representatives chatting while desecretelty sipping on the best champagne we could find in school. They quieted down a bit when I entered the room, but didn’t stop their chatter entirely. I couldn’t tell if it was because they weren’t surprised that I was here, or if they were just tipsy.

But the main group near the door weren’t the only people at the After Party. The regulars, the student council, and ones who always gave me trouble were standing a bit farther away. There were other chairs of course. In fact they were standing around some of the best chairs in the room. Real antiques, plush and velvety, but they were just standing around. Instantly silent upon my entrance I could feel that it would be a rough meeting. Breaking the tension early I gravitated toward the person who I knew would have the most to say.

“Harris!” I greeted our student body president with a small hug acting like we were friends, even though everyone knew that we weren’t, “I heard about you getting Mrs. Gogomine to let off on the group punishments, good work you really are made for diplomacy, huh?”

Elenore Harris had been student body president since I was a freshman. Always trying to make reforms on her own. Slightly longer lunch breaks as rewards, and landscaping for only the worst offenders. Everyone had seen her as a radical reformer who would change the school for the better. At least that was until I came along. Now she had been relegated to the wayside a bit, and her only job seemed to be raining me in. Or at least try to anyway.

Harris pushed me off of her, “Don’t play with me Valencia! You're about to step on the hornet's nest and you’re still trying to play games!”

I smiled grimly when she used my first name. As student body president it was only natural that everyone treated her with respect. And even though we didn’t have the best relationship I still called her by her last name and usually, she did the same to me. But when we were really going at it, when she was really mad at me, she would switch to my first name. The subtext heavy in her tone. You’re not a leader, I am. You weren’t elected, I was. You can’t accomplish anything, I can. She was so infuriating sometimes.

“It’s high time we stepped on the hornet's nest,” I said, not exactly raising my voice but adjusting the gravitas to make sure that everyone in the room knew that this was addressed to them too, “They’ve been stinging us for years. And you just want to leave them be? Looks like you may be more of a hornet than I thought.”

It was an old jest, but something that she needed to be reminded of. The reason that I didn’t run for student government when I first got into the school was because I didn’t want to be part of the establishment. When I first started raiding the kitchen and petitioning students to help me that was the answer that I got.

“Just run for an office,” they said, “Make changes when you get elected.”

It always infuriated me when I heard that. I was young and I was even more angry than I was when I was talking to Harris at the After Party. The student government was just a place for us to pretend like we were making a difference. A little play place in the real world where we could make believe that they cared about our opinions. I don’t think that I could ever be part of something like that. And then more than ever that sentiment was growing. Everyone was looking at Harris like she was a tool of the establishment, and I could tell that it was starting to grate on her.

“Hornet's nest or not,” Harris said, I could tell she was regretting using that metaphor, “Doing what you're doing, taking back everyone’s technology, that will ruin this entire….”

Harris paused for a moment while gesturing around the room at the team leads and important people in the rebellion, “What do you call this a rebellion? When we get caught red-handed in the principal's storage room this little rebellion is over. And all of us are getting in-school suspension plus yard work for the rest of our time here!”

I sighed and backed up. Taking a seat on a bursting apart couch near the entrance where everyone in the room could see and hear me with perfect clarity. A cracked flute of champagne was already sitting on the end table, waiting to be drunk. Lifting it to my lips I took a sweet sip, not breaking eye contact with Harris along the way. With a sigh, I placed my arm around the girl next to me and smiled, smiled as if the entire room was mine.

“If you bothered to read any of the memos and plans I sent to your room you would already know that there is no chance of us getting caught. But I suppose you’re too busy upholding the status quo to care about any of my changes.”

What I really wanted to say was “get out if you don’t like what I was doing”, but couldn’t. As inept at politics as I was, I knew that Harris’s support was a thing that I needed. Even if she gave it reluctantly. And besides, even if she was just a mouthpiece of the principle half the people at the After Party still looked up to her. I needed all the help I could get if the techno-raid was to go off without a hitch.

Harris sighed as though I was a screaming toddler in the aisle at Walmart, “You know that I want change but this isn’t the way to get it. It’s too much of a risk.”

She had softened her tone and as much as I wanted to bring her in and tell her what I really felt. That I didn’t really want to do this, but that the students needed change. That if I didn’t do something soon everything that I had worked for would crumple. But I knew, I knew, that whatever she was saying was just a ploy to get me to admit that I was wrong. Instead I took another sip of champagne and didn’t relent.

“Please Harris,” I told her using a tone that said I thought that she was as stupid as she thought I was, “Read the plan and then make comments. You sound a bit ignorant otherwise.”

Plays on her intelligence normally worked and before I knew it Harris was sitting down on the one the chairs she had abandoned and reading the plans that I had meticulously typed up on my stolen typewriter. The thing was pretty dense so I knew that it would take her some time to even skim it over. With Harris busy I turned my attention back to the team leads.

“So GiGi, how goes the kitchen?” I asked her, even though I knew full well how it was going. It was going great. The previous girl I had entrusted the kitchen team to was too cautious. We barely had enough snacks for even the meeting every week, let alone for cookies between classes. But GiGi was clever and brave, she knew the kitchen inside and out, and she had been getting the job done swimmingly. Even though I didn’t need her to tell me, I had gotten her official report just the previous day, it's good to start with positive news.

GiGi knew this too because she smirked at me, “Valencia, darling, it’s amazing. Come next week and we’ll be able to cook our own food when the chef ladies aren’t there.”

That statement earned her fistpumps from everyone around her. Not having to eat cafeteria food would be amazing, even though it wasn’t that bad it was soulless. Making our food would be a big morale boost as well. Having heard everything from GiGi I turned my eyes toward the person who I had draped my arm around when I first sat down. I knew her name was Rosane, but other than that nothing. In fact I didn’t even know why she was even at the After Party, or how she knew about it. As far as I knew she wasn’t even a team lead.

I offered my other hand for her to shake and looked down at her from my position on the couch, “I’m Valencia Ruiz I don’t think we’ve met.”

Ignoring the absolute absurdity that I would have my arm around her we have never officially met and that fact that she most definitely already knew my name Rosane shook my hand and introduced herself.

“Rosane Bearson, I’m a freshman in group C,” she said which raised a few eyebrows from me. Being a freshman she was likely the youngest person in the room. I wondered who trusted her enough with a team that she would need to attend the After Party.

“Oh I’m not an actual team lead,” she told me, quick to figure out what I had been thinking, “But since Ana B. is sick she said I need to lead the classroom team until she gets better.”

I nodded as the situation became clear to me. When she first got sick I hadn’t sent Ana B. a get well soon card, I sent her a congratulations card. It wasn’t everyday someone got strep throat and the flu at the same time after all.

“Ana must trust you a lot if she wanted you to lead her team,” I told her, masking the fact that I was a little pissed that Ana hadn’t told me that she had assigned a random freshman girl to lead one of the most important teams in the rebellion, “You must be a very capable girl.”

She looked down and blushed and it was only then that I realized how flirty I must sound. Still, I hid any discomfort by asking her my standard question.

“And how are the classrooms, Rosane?” I asked her.

She switched over to a more business-like tone as well. Which only made me giggle internally, “Well everything seems to be going well for now. Distribution of sick passes is down by about 20% but we’ve only been distributing them for a few months now so I think the hype has gone down and we’re reaching a baseline.”

Her report pleasantly surprised me. Even though she was only a freshman Rosane seemed fairly competent. I took a mental note to add her to a leadership position when one opened up. She would be an asset if I kept her around. Unfortunately I didn’t get to tell her how smart she seemed because Harris finally finished reading the action plan.

Harris sighed in a way and got up. Every eye seemed to be on her when she approached my little corner of the room. Sensing her intentions Rosane got up from the coach and a few seconds later Harris replaced her. A pang of sadness went through my chest as she walked away, but I knew that it was for the best. The time to sip champagne and pat ourselves on the back was over. The time to plan our next move and debate was best had begun in earnest.

I took a sip of champagne as Harris began to speak, “I’ll have to admit Valencia this plan could go off without a hitch.”

Though I knew that that was hardly the end to her statement I smiled nonetheless. If the plan warranted a complement from even Harris then I knew it was as close to flawless as I could muster.

“But the steps to make this happen are unreasonable,” and leave it to Harris to find a flaw anyway, “Poisoning an entire school is not how we should operate.”

She said “we” as if she had contributed anything except complaints and legitimacy for the rebellion.

“We’re not actually poisoning anyone,” I told her for what I assume wouldn’t be the last time, “Just making it look like we are.”

“But what you’re going to do to the student council room….”

We went on and on like this for the better part of half an hour. And I seriously started to wonder why she had even the whole thing if she was going to ask me to basically repeat every paragraph. She wanted to be assured that there wasn’t going to be too much damage, all of the fires would be in controlled areas and we would monitor them for the entire day. That we wouldn’t actually hurt everyone, terrible smells alone couldn’t harm anyone and those who experience phantom symptoms would go to the infirmary and be treated. That they wouldn’t notice all the electronics were gone, they would be replaced with fakes as soon as we left. Since I had been expecting this I had answers for everything. Eventually even Harris had nothing more to question.

“Alright let’s put this to one late vote,” Harris said and I couldn’t tell if it was a last ditch effort to stop the techno-raid or if she was just that invested in democracy.

Fifteen hand up, a total landslide. Harris reluctantly raised her hand, and it was unanimous. The After Party started to clear out after that but quite a few people stayed behind to finish the rest of the champagne. No one ever came into the storage room except other students so it would be fine. I was one of the first to leave. Saturday would come sooner than I would have liked so I needed to get my sleep in while I could. And besides, I was already a little tipsy from my flute of champagne.

I walked out of the storage room and then out of the building altogether. Taking the back paths I made my way towards nowhere in particular. As I walked under the moonlight I saw Rosane walking in the bushes, practically invisible from the windows. A great idea came to me when I saw her but I was really curious about something else. Everyone knew the importance of sleath while wandering after curfew but walked in the bushes alongside little-used paths, that seemed like overkill.

“Is there a particular reason you're communing with nature at this hour, Rosane?” I asked her hoping that my tone underscored curiosity and not accusations.

Rosane seemed surprised when she realized that I was behind her but she answered right away, “The principal's own apartment is above my dorm building so I always have to be really careful when sneaking back in.”

I nodded, “Speaking of dorms, can I sleep at yours tonight?”

This time Rosane didn’t just seem surprised she genuinely jumped when I asked.

“Oh, I’m not... I mean not that you’re... “ she stuttered out and I immediately realized my mistake. The alcohol must have been messing with me because I usually didn’t ask like that. Still I tried to play it cool.

“I mean I need a place to crash for the night,” I laughed, “My place is always too crowded in the morning. Nothing more nothing less than a place on your floor until 5:00 tomorrow.”

Rosane realized her mistake though I couldn’t blame her for making it. In the dark I saw her shrug, “Sure I don’t mind. And my roommate always goes to the Gallery meetings so I don’t think she will either.”

No matter how much alcohol I had drunk I always needed to make sure that I had consent and not just begrudging acceptance, “Are you really alright with this? I know it’s a lot to ask. Believe me, I won’t be mad at you if you say no.”

“Yeah it’s fine but follow me and be as quiet as possible.” she said disappearing even farther into the foliage.

I followed her through dirt paths that I didn’t even know existed and through grass that wasn’t even stomped down in the slightest. And after ten minutes I was sitting on the floor in a dark room, the noises of Rosane changing in her pajamas echoing through the darkness. Even though the lights were off I imagined that it was a typical freshman dorm. Sparsely decorated and family photos on the nightstand. As if seeing icons of their parents every day would make them come back. Come back with tears in the eyes regretting the day they ever banished their daughter to a prep school in the middle of new england nowhere. Come back, back with the proclamation that they finally loved their daughter. But by the time they turned into sophomore the family pictures were gone and the room had a bit more personality. Everyone always started decorating once they realized that their parents weren’t coming back for them.

Once I heard the telltale sounds of Rosane finally falling asleep I started to undress. Since she was already sleeping I didn’t want to risk changing noisily, but I still tried to make myself comfortable. I took off the school uniform maroon pants along with the matching jacket. The stupid asoct that they made us where I used to wrap up my pants and jacket into an impromptu pillow. And the last thing I took off, much to my relief, was my bra. And with that, I finally laid down on the carpeted floor curled up under the blanket that Rosane had given me. Sleep came easy for me, I knew that I would need the rest to do everything again the next day.

Saturday came earlier than I had expected. By the time dawn broke, I was standing in my room trying to come up with an outfit that would be both good for getting around fast and look impressive. After a bit of deliberation, I decided on an oversized polo completely unbuttoned, revealing a bit of collar bone that would definitely get me dress coded. My usual skinny jeans would suffice, but I couldn’t go anywhere without my slightly heeled suede boots. Because after all what was more important stealth or clicking around in my boots? The answer was obvious to me as I tiptoed out of my apartment, grabbing my backpack along the way, careful not to wake my roommate. I didn’t know what she would do if I woke her up early again.

Dew and grass stuck to my boots as I cut through the lawn to get to the path. A teacher that I didn’t know walked past me and gave me the hairy eyeball but I kept my gaze facing forward. No class didn’t mean no punishments, so I tried to act innocent. Which was the truth, technically I hadn’t done anything wrong yet. But still, you never knew who would stop you just to send you back to your dorm to change. I made it to the Hemlock Dorm without encountering any more teachers. That was the benefit of traveling at the crack of dawn I guess. Room 003 was in the basement, one of the least desirable rooms out there, and only used as a punishment for the most outspoken “troublemakers”. The dorms weren’t cleaned, they were barely heated, and they had no windows. Terrible for living in, but perfect hiding places.

Click, click, knock-knock, click-click, slam. The “secret” knock for the mobile kitchen was quite elaborate and a bit redundant but so was the girl who lived in it. Throwing the door open like a treasure chest Citrine laughed when she saw me and I couldn’t help but laugh back. With temporary tattoos covering every visible inch of her dark skin and a shock of pastel green hair Citrine was one of the only people at school that I really called a friend. She pulled me inside and shut the door, dramatically engaging the four locks that she had on the door before pushing me to the floor and shoving a bowl of oatmeal into my hands.

“Dude!” Citrine said with her usual brand of excitement for everything while flopping down at the floor next to me, “I can’t wait to get my phone back! Half the time Mrs. Grimes isn’t even in ISS . I'll be able to use my phone to kill time. I have so many otome games downloaded on that thing.”

While she was talking I took a bite of my oatmeal, brown sugar-cinnamon, my favorite kind. I was always grateful when she made a bowl for me when I visited.

“You won’t be able to use your phone in class,” I pointed out to her with my sticky spoon, “It’s almost guaranteed that you’ll get caught that way.”

Citrine rolled on the floor dramatically and I laughed a bit, “Of course I know that Valenc. But can’t a girl dream of bigger things than this...”

Getting up from the floor Citrine struck a longing pose, “Bigger than being relegated to guard a fridge day and night. Bigger than living in a basement with no contact with the outside world. Dream that one day, ONE DAY, I will be free! Free to not waste away my youth with books in dim light. But waste away my youth in front of a screen as nature intended!”

Once her monologue was over I clapped lightly. Too bad the school was so straight-laced and didn’t allow clubs, Citrine was a born theater kid. By fridge, she meant the industrial refrigerator I kept in her dorm. The school had been throwing it away but deception and proper planning had put it into our hands. Some of the mechanics class girls had fixed it up and affectionately named their neon painted beauty the Midnight Snacker. But speaking of refrigerators...

“Anyway how are the eggs,” I asked her, finishing up my last bite of oatmeal.

Citrine adopted a grin that told me that she was either about to stab me or jump out a window. Luckily she did neither and instead opened up the refrigerator. Almost instantly I coughed, the smell was overwhelming. In between coughs I asked...

“I thought you kept them in a bag?”

Citrine brought out a black shopping bag tied with the best knot that we could muster, “I did, but the smell is escaping. No matter how much we try to hide it, nothing will keep these eggs from contaminating everything they are around them, it is their destiny!”

I rolled my eyes, “Just give me the eggs, Citrine.”

She did give me the eggs. She threw them at me and after a fumble they were safe. And up close they were even more eye-watering and nausea inducing. Dry heaving I suddenly regretted eating that oatmeal. I had come prepared for this from my backpack I pulled out a trash bag and wrapped the eggs in that. Then I pulled out an even smaller backpack and put the entire black mass in that. Citrine and I talked a bit. About school and homework. About if or when we get to go home. About everything we could think of. But the moments of peace ended and I had to leave.

Back outside I took a few deep breaths of cool air to rid my system of the eggs and the basement’s musty funk. Everything would officially start around noon but I still needed to prepare the headquarters of the day. And I couldn’t wait to get the backpack with the eggs off of my chest. On the walk to the other side of campus, there were considerably more people out. Early birds and overachievers mostly heading to the library. I pushed past the small stream of people, ignoring the looks at my two backpacks.

For the techno-raid that day our base of operations would be in the Gonner Building. Brick, four stories, the usual but what was most important was that it would empty all weekend. I went around the back and knocked sharply on a side door. Then realizing my mistake I just walked in. It was easy to forget that most people didn’t wake up at 5:00am like I did. I walked down the hallway until I got to the first classroom. Once inside I started to prepare the room. By the time Bee walked into the room I had pushed the desks to the side of the room and written our plan of action on the whiteboard.

Bee walked in pushing a shopping cart with Rebecca C. inside. Fire-resistant blankets were also in the cart and a box of supplies, but we would use those later. Instead of the cart and its contents I focused on the people so brazenly walking into the room. As if they hadn’t skipped the oh so important After Party.

“Nice of you to come,” I said once Rebecca had jumped out of the cart, “I thought you two would be too busy to help out today.”

Bee didn’t bat an eyelash, simply heading over to the whiteboard to look at what she would have to do. She and I both knew that it wasn’t really her that I was mad at. From her, that sort of thing was expected. Instead, I turned my gaze to Rebecca, the girl that was supposed to be my second in command. Rebecca smoothed out her tucked in t-shirt as I looked at her. I didn’t want to look too mad though, instead, I smiled at her. Rebecca seemed to know what my smile meant though because she looked a bit scared.

“Listen Valencia,” she said, clearly attempting to cover her ass, “I was really busy with homework on Thursday so I couldn’t go to any of the events.”

If I was less of a shady bitch I would have accepted her apology and let her go. If the situation was less important I would have told her off and let her go. Unfortunately for Rebecca, this was the most serious thing our uprising had ever tackled, and she hadn’t spoken to me in two days.

“Even if you were busy on Thursday,” I said, my tone saying that I knew that she was busy, but not with homework, “There was always Friday.”

She tried to stutter someone out but I cut her off, “I counted on you and I told you to be there and you weren’t! This is not acceptable Rebecca.”

With a sigh I announced what I had made reality the day before, “You’re not going to be leading the Fire Team today. Instead, you’re going to be in here managing supplies.”

Rebecca seemed genuinely shocked. She never thought I would go that far, and I hadn’t either. This was for the best, but Rebecca couldn’t see that.

“What!” she was so loud I think that she had forgotten that we were there in secret, “Bee didn’t go either and she’s still on the FireTeam! What justice is that?”

“Bee wasn’t supposed to be leading the most important team in this entire operation,” I told her simply.

I could tell that she was hurt, but I couldn’t take back my words even if I wanted to. With a look of pure betrayal, Rebecca stormed out of the room. Bee looked mildly concerned but I couldn’t care less. The job I switched her to was just a filler role, and I didn’t think that Rebecca would stoop so low as to give us up. For the time being, I didn’t care about what she did.

More people started streaming into the room around 10:30 just as I told them to. Roughly dividing themselves into their three teams for the operation. The Fire Team, the Gas Team, and finally my team, the Retrieval Team. Everyone on the Fire Team seemed a bit confused that Rebecca wasn’t there, but the new lead Courtney D. explained everything to them. Once I was sure that everyone was there, twenty-one people in total and the supplies had been counted and divided up I stood in front of the blackboard. One final review of the plan and then it would be time to go. Since we didn’t have a way to communicate with each other over distances, the plan and the competence of the people implementing it were only preparation we could do. But seeing over at the faces looking at me with such beautiful determination I had no doubts that we would succeed.

“We have worked hard for every opportunity afforded to us,” I told them, feeling as if it was high time for a speech, “Every day we struggle for purchase on the mountain that is this school, just trying to make it to a place where we can rest. For a place where we can just be ourselves. Unfortunately, true freedom is a long ways away, and there are many, many more obstacles in our path.”

I had brought the mood down, then I tried to bring it up, “But this raid will bring us closer than anything we have done before. Finally we will be able to contact the world beyond these walls other than the mail they swear they deliver. Every student in this school will have back what was stolen from them!”

“Most of you were there at the Gallery last Thursday,” I looked pointently at Bee, “And you heard my promise, my vow. That by the time this weekend is up they will be holding their phones in their hands. I have no doubt that I spoke the truth in the Gallery, that you and I will shape the truth in our hands. What I promised to the students is not a lie, and I know all you will make sure of that!”

A single cheer erupted from the room and I smiled. Once I was done with my speech the Gas Team left the room to go out and start the plan. We would have no assurance that they would succeed, but I knew they would anyway. They would have to.

“Alright guys I know I don’t need to say this but dictation really does help me visual things,” I told my team, we were waiting to leave, “When we get to the storage room I’ll pick the lock, I know how to do it without making it too obvious. We get in, grab all of the boxes labeled ‘student tech’, and get out. The principle keeps everything very orderly so it won’t be that hard to find them. Ten minutes inside of the room, no more no less. On the way out cover everything with the blankets and put them in the cart. If we get stopped, let me do the talking.”

Some of the team nodded but most of them just acknowledged me blankly. I knew that I was rambling, that I was talking just to talk, but I couldn’t resist talking more. Telling them more things that they already knew just to fill the tense time between when the Gas Team left and when the Fire Team was supposed to go out. Instead of giving in to the urge and making even more of a fool of myself I started pacing around the room. It was always like this when I led a raid. Even though I hadn’t done it in a while it was still the tensest thing in the world. Millions of possibilities rushed through my head, all the ways it could go sideways. No matter what I had said to reassure Harris the plan I put forth was risky, risky enough to fail.

Before long the Fire Team went out. This was the part that I had paid the most attention to. Their job was to go out and set four very strategic fires away from the sight of our retrieval. The student council room, one of the basement rooms, the board meeting room, and a kitchen. Arson was a crime, and a major one at that, so there was no way they could be caught. Spreading the smell of rotten eggs in the vents had already made everyone think there was a gas leak. Students placed in every major gathering site on campus would fake the symptoms of gas poisoning, and judging by the pounding of footsteps to the infirmary the nocebo effect was taking hold. Even with Rebecca off the mission there was high chance everything would go as planned. It was what happened if things didn’t go according to the plan that I was worried about.

I watched the time on my watch carefully. A minute passed, then two, then three. Not wanting to sit around more than was necessary I started heaping the fire-resistant blankets into the cart. By the time ten minutes rolled around things were much more chaotic outside the classroom and we were all ready to go. The route to the principal's storage room took us directly away from one of the fires. Smoke was pouring out the window of the student council room, but I could see no flames. That was the plan, all of the sites of the fires were easily controllable; it would have been dangerous otherwise.

Quickly and taking as many disused paths as possible we made it to the storage room. Just as I had said picking the lock was a difficult but hasty process and before long we were in. The information I had gathered had told me that the electronics that were taken from students upon enrollment were stored in the room, but it hadn’t told me what else was stored there. “Confiscated goods” didn’t cover the scope of what we saw there. Gifts from back home taken away for bad behavior, sculptures that hadn’t been up to code, even jewelry that had been forcibly taken. All of the things my fellow students treasured sat in the room, discarded like the trash the administration thought we were. Heirloom necklaces and broken glasses alike crunched beneath our shoes as we walked to the back. It was all I could do to not pack everything in the cart and then come back for more. But there was only one thing we were there for.

Neatly stacked boxes labeled by grade level stood against the far wall. The principal knew that there would be hell to pay if a student’s parent asked for their daughter’s phone and didn’t get an answer, not that any parent of these students would care enough. We didn’t turn on any lights as we stacked the boxes under the blankets in the cart and replacing them with our decoy boxes. Thinking that I wouldn’t see them in the dim several of my team members tried to open a box, looking for their own phones and tech, but I gave them a firm look every time I heard cardboard rubbing together. They must have thought that I had a will of steel, not opening any of the boxes before we left the storage room. But the truth was much sadder, it was easier to resist opening one of the sophomore boxes when I knew that there was nothing in there for me. Having given me what they thought was a proper education my “parents” had never bothered to give me anything else. Not even a flip phone to call them with, actually they probably hoped that I wouldn’t contact them at all.

Daylight flooded into our dark adjusted eyes when we left the storage room. The afternoon sun was high in the sky, and light breezes were blowing through. Every fire seemed almost under control and we were well underway to having a normal Saturday again. They were dealing with the distractions faster than I had thought so we walked quickly with the cart. Eyes forward, trying to seem as innocent as possible. In any other situation, our act would have worked, but the distractions had been a double-edged sword. Teachers were too preoccupied to be present on the paths as usual, but any we did encounter were on edge and cautious.

“Why are you girls not in your designated emergency situation spots?” Ms. Troy asked us, just as we were out of sight of the now re-locked storage room.

All eyes darted to me when she asked that, and I was glad that I had practiced my plausible excuses the night before but still…

“Ms. Harison told us to take these to the library just in case anything has sparked up,” I told her, my tone even and believable.

Ms. Harison was an unofficial librarian. Technically she was an English teacher, but all of her classes were spent in the library. She shelved books, she arranged library events, in all but name she was a librarian. Making her the perfect person to have told us to take fire resistant blankets to the library. Ms. Troy let us go after that, her critical gaze turned upon other students who were actually wandering around innocently. We were stopped twice more before we got to the back door, each time I gave a different excuse.

Once we got into the back door our pace increased exponentially. The door was locked behind us and blankets fell off the cart in our dash to the classroom. When we got there suddenly everyone who had been lounging around stood for attention. Perfume hung heavily in the air, no doubt to mask the stench of the eggs. A pile of sooty clothes blocked the cart’s path but by that point, we didn’t need it. Everyone and anyone available in the room jumped up to help us. Bee was busy spreading aloe vera gel on the small burns that had been received, but even she stared at the treasure we had reclaimed. Blankets forgot the boxes were piled on desks in a more organized way than I thought them capable of. Seniors, juniors, sophomores, and freshmen all grouped together. And when all of the boxes had been unloaded everyone stood with their respective grade levels.

Tears in her eyes one junior girl, I knew her name was Hollie, took a box cutter from her pocket. All eyes were on her, happy sobs escaping from her mouth. It broke my heart to do what I had to do, but it was for the best.

Crossing the room from the sophomore section in an instant I grabbed her wrist and twisted a bit, causing her to drop the box cutter, “You’ll get your stuff by Monday.”

Shocked gasps escaped from everyone around the room. I shouldn’t have gotten their hopes up, after the Peanut Test I gave two of the girls their phones for risking agitating their allergies . Clearly, everyone who had helped out in the Techno-Raid thought they would get the same treatment.

“What!” Hollie screamed at me, cognisant of the fact that we had to be quiet but communicating all of her outrage in one word, “This is our raid, this is our reward! I thought you were going to give out the tech?”

Kindness was in my eyes as I listened to her yelling at me. Still, my tone was firm with no room for persuasion, almost teacher-esque in an ironic way, “You’ll get your stuff on Monday just like everyone else.”

Roars of dissent blossomed from around the room. I wanted to glance over at Bee for support, but I didn’t want anyone to turn their rage on her. Instead, I listened to the complaints for anything I could say to placate them.

“We worked so hard for this!” that was a no go, I couldn’t deny that they had all prepared and executed everything perfectly.

“You owe it to us!” technically I could argue that I didn’t owe them anything that they did what they did of their own free will, but they were more likely to tear me to shreds than calm down if I said that.

“There's no harm in giving them to us early!” now this, I could work with.

“I checked on Gwen and Vivian yesterday,” I told them, lowering my voice so they couldn’t hear me unless they calmed down, “In the one day that they had their phones there had been four attempts to steal them. The second they pulled their phones out at the lunch table they were excluded from conversation. You say there’s no harm, but there is. Two people with early tech access aren’t too much but, almost two dozen? You’ll be torn to shreds. Even if it’s only for a day I assure you your dorms will be broken into, and I guarantee that half of your devices will be broken.”

Everyone seemed to realize what they had been demanding, but I wasn’t done, “I didn’t just steal back these devices to give them away. I stole them so that we can feel like we matter again. That we aren’t just rats trapped in the cage that is this school. We’re people, and people deserve freedom. And given that a school prison break is impossible I thought phones were the next best thing. If I let you loose from here with your devices, chaos will ensue. And before I know it the students I try so hard for will become phone hunger animals, degrading themselves for just a taste of the true freedom that they deserve. I wish I could reward you all in the way that you’ve more than earned, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until Monday.”

I had ended the way I had begun, but this time everyone seemed to get the message. Hollie picked up her box cutter and started cleaning up with everyone else. Some of the more comedic among us began to sing the Clean Up Song, and before long we were full fledged chorus and the room was back to the way it was. Baring the twelve boxes still elevated on desks. Once we were done I handed out their advanced reward. Gift baskets full of contraband. Sick notes, pocky, candles, and anything else I could find to give them. Everyone accepted their baskets with grace, but I knew what they really wanted. Having given out the baskets I adjusted my backpack on my shoulders and tapped Bee on the shoulder.

“This classroom, 9:15 Sunday night, bring Rebecca,” I whispered, making sure that only she could hear me.

With that, I left the classroom and then the building. Heading to whoever’s dorm was closest. After a day like that, I could sleep for days. And I almost did. Sunday passed in a blur of naps and essays and before long I was walking back to the classroom. As always I was there early, not just because I loved punctuality, but also because I didn’t want anyone in the room without me. And besides I was the only one who had the key. In the time it took everyone to get there I made sure all of the boxes were undisturbed. Besides a little nick in one of the junior boxes from where Hollie tried to open it, everything was Gucci.

When I heard steps coming from the hallway I realized how I must look. Wide-eyed and smiling like an idiot in the products of my own handiwork, not like someone in control at all. In a scramble, but trying to be quiet so they didn’t hear my scrambling I hopped up on the teacher’s platform. The steps were becoming even more prominent, so instead of coming up with any natural looking power pose I hopped up on the desk. Sitting down, legs spread, hoping that I looked large and in charge.

GiGi was the first to arrive, looking as amazed as I felt upon entry.

“Amazing isn’t it?” I said to her, getting only a noise of excitement in response. Immediately she raced toward the senior boxes and I had only a second to stop her, “Not so fast, wait until everyone’s here.”

She didn’t look as disappointed as Hollie had, probably because she knew it wouldn’t be long until the boxes finally got opened up. Luckily we didn’t have to wait for long. Ana B. had recovered from her flu in time to sort and return all of the electronics. Which was a relief for me. Even though they were all handpicked by me, I didn’t know if I could trust most of the other team leads for a task as momentous as the one we were doing. Tall, and with a grown out afro by some lists Ana was considered one of the most gorgeous girls in school or sometimes even the most. But I didn’t see her that way. On a mission she was firm and careful, doing rounds she was kind and patient, and during After Parties everything she said was well thought out and careful. In short there was no one I trusted more, besides Rebecca and Citrine of course. Rebecca, I didn’t know about anymore though.

Completely coincidentally, Rebecca was also the last person to show up. Citrine had already sauntered in when Bee walked in yawning. I had expected them to come together, given the thing they were together, but she was nowhere to be found. 9:30 rolled around, she still wasn’t there. Thinking that she was ghosting me for kicking her off of the Fire Team I started without her. Instead of stooping down to the level of everyone else, I climbed onto the desk to be even higher. Apparently, my heeled boots weren’t enough height for me. Succinctly as I could I started to explain how things would work. Pick out each phone and look in the copy of the student directory, write the information down on a sticky note and organize everything by dorm. Once things were sorted we head out and deliver the goods, packed neatly into individually labeled paper bags.

By the time I was done speaking Rebecca was sulking around near the sophomore boxes. Uncharastically I didn’t remark on her late entry, and instead trusted that she had picked up everything she needed to know. With a sad sigh, I hopped down from the desk, landing on the solid floor and not the platform. Not wobbling a bit in my heels.

I took some inspiration from Hollie and wretched open the boxes one by one with a box cutter. A pile of black screens and pastel cases, it was beautiful to us. We could have started for hours, just bathing in the glory of what had been so deprived of ourselves for our lives as students. But we had a job to do and only one night to do it. Everyone was responsible for two boxes.

Grab a bundle of tech, look in the directory, write the information down on a sticky note, stick the note on the bundle, and put it in the bundle in the dorm’s appropriate pile. Six of us working in tandem, it didn’t take that long. We started around 9:35 and everything was in its proper place around 10:30. After that it was wrapping. I wanted everyone to be anonymous, to have no one know who had delivered their cell phone. But the wrapping portion of it all but signed our names on the cell phones. Citrine wrapped everything in a bright yellow bow, and a lipstick kiss. While GiGi stuck scratch and sniff stickers everywhere. I swear if you didn’t know the importance of what we were doing, you would have thought we were doing an arts and crafts project.

Once names were written on all of our bundles we headed out. Under cover of darkness we set out to deliver our packages. Three dorms to each of us, scatter after we finished what we needed to do. I was on my own for the rest of the night, and I breathed a bit easier because of it. With the night breezes pushing my loose coat around me, I hoped that it looked like a cape. After all, I had never felt more like a superhero then in those moments.

Starting from the top and working my way down to the basements it took me half an hour to deliver to the dorm. On the way dodging any midnight snackers or people who simply couldn’t sleep. By the time I was done with all of the dorms it was after midnight and I was already hearing excited noises rising up in the night. Thinking that everyone would be too busy to bother me I decided to sleep in my own bed that night. My roommate was already asleep in her bed next to the door, while my bed under the window had collected dust. For the first time all month, I slid into my pajamas. Content in the knowledge that even though what I had done was risky, my students, my people, my friends were happier for it.

If you all loved Valencia as much as I did leave a comment. and if you didn’t have a stunning day!

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claroquequiza · 7 years ago

Note

Oops someone else asked about Hanzo's anxiety attack commentary! How about when he tells McCree underneath the trees what he believes his fate is?

Oh My

The click of the deadbolt was audible even over the four or five meters between Hanzo and the door, a detail he automatically filed away as a potential warning or prompt for anyone monitoring the main entrance as he stiffened just as automatically. The door opened slowly, and it did indeed reveal the cowboy, dressed in dark blue jeans and a red and white plaid flannel shirt with long sleeves rolled up to the elbow and partially untucked to ineffectually hide the belt buckle gleaming on his waist. His hair, uncorralled for once by the hat held limply at the cowboy’s side, framed his face, surprisingly long and lanky and dark in the shade.

Jack roughed up Jesse a little while tearing him a new one. Not really, but you wouldn’t know it by your appearance, Jesse.

Hanzo had, once again, expected anger to be contorting the cowboy’s face, and once again he was surprised. There was a strange mix of determination and nervousness badly hidden just under the surface of his eyes when they found his own. They stared at each other for a few moments before the cowboy stepped out of the safehouse, letting the door swing closed on its own with a loud thud. Hanzo could not help a slight twitch of an eyebrow as the noise bounced off the surrounding walls a couple of times, but the cowboy paid little heed as he ambled slowly forward, coming to a stop a couple of meters away, just shy of where Hanzo would have been forced to start looking up at him.

The cowboy studied his face for a few moments. Hanzo kept it as blank as possible.

The cowboy took in a deep breath, let it out in a whoosh, and turned away slightly, pressing his hat to his hip with a metal hand while running the other whole hand through his hair. He shook his head slightly and bit his bottom lip. Hanzo watched it all with slightly narrowing eyes. Finally, he turned back and, gesturing at the ground with his free hand, said, “Mind if I sit for a spell?”

LOL, I love how McCree is supposed to apologize here, and he knows he’s gotta, but damn it, people have done all sorts of things waaaay nicer than carrying him to a medic after they assaulted him, and a lot of them ended up having awful motivations. How can he possibly expect better from Shimada?!

Hanzo blinked slowly. The cowboy made no move, even as the silence dragged on for a few beats. An actual request, then. Unusual. He shook his head slightly, and the cowboy nodded back as he dropped down to the ground. At first he let his legs carelessly sprawl out in front of him, but after a moment he seemed to reconsider and folded them into a loose cross-legged position, his hat in his lap and his hands on his knees, despite how uncomfortable the position must have been as his jeans rode up slightly to reveal the cowboy boots.

Hanzo wrinkled his nose slightly at the garish, unpolished spurs, a needless and noisy feature--but no, he realized, the cowboy had made no noise save for crushing the detritus underfoot. Were these spurs purely for show?

I adhere to the spurs as a cat bell headcanon. And, like a cat, Jesse knows how to get around them just fine.

He shook himself out of his pointless musings, refocusing on the cowboy. He was picking at a small pile of needles by his right knee, rubbing individual needles between thumb and forefinger before letting them fall back to the ground, head bowed as if the task merited all his concentration. The scent of cedar rose from the crushed needles, a welcome change from the wet rot, even if Hanzo could scarcely appreciate it while he waited for the cowboy to reveal his intentions.

I don’t actually know what cedar smells like. I hear it’s nice.

It took a good long while, a few endless minutes, before the cowboy finally cleared his throat. “I guess you got some readin’ done after the debriefin’,” he said, without looking up.

Hanzo could not help knitting his eyebrows together. “Reading?” he asked, taking care to keep his voice level, almost monotone.

The cowboy snorted loudly, still picking at the ground. “Or ‘reviewed team data’ or ‘briefed yourself’ or whatever you wanna call readin’ my file.”

“I did not.”

Hanzo smoothed his face back into a blank mask as the cowboy’s head snapped up, his dark eyes widened. “What?”

“I did not review the file.”

There were a couple of beats of silence, the cowboy merely staring, in shock perhaps.

“Why?” he asked at last. “I woulda expected you t’want all the dirt you could find on me.”

Hanzo doesn’t do things because he’s told, he tries to do what he thinks is best. When it comes to Genji, the difference is minimal, but in general Hanzo stopped doing what he was told ten years ago. Soldier: 76 may have told him to read the files, but Hanzo found it best not to. This is where Jesse starts to realize that.

Hanzo permitted himself to raise an eyebrow slightly. So there was “dirt” in the file. He had been right not to read it, then. It would only have added to the cowboy’s grievances against him. Of course, if he could have read it anonymously, he certainly would have, but it had been sent and received by Overwatch devices--the AI would know if it was accessed. The cowboy would surely check with her; he would not take Hanzo at his word.

THE ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IS ALWAYS WATCHING. This is why it pays to be nice to Athena, as Hanzo’s going to find out in a future chapter.

But what to say for now? He looked around slightly, wondering what was appropriate to say while sitting in the relative open like this. Trusting in the constant drone of the cicadas to mask their voices, he settled on, “You say he joined a month ago, correct?” At the cowboy’s slight nod, “He did not consult anyone. I am unsure if he is authorized to do such a thing, after so little time.”

The cowboy’s lips curled into a strange smile. “Well, shit. I dunno, either, t’be honest,” he muttered, tone thoughtful with a strange edge of mirth. “I guess he must be, since he sent it in the first place.” Hanzo barely had time to consider the implications of that before the cowboy’s face dropped into a serious expression, his eyes piercing. “But you don’ really need any more dirt, do ya?”

WHAT could he POSSIBLY mean?

Well, I’ll tell you, [TEXT REDACTED]

Hanzo kept his face immobile, but he could feel his mind kick into high gear with an almost audible click behind his eyes. Dirt? On the cowboy? Hanzo had no idea what he was talking about.

Was he referring to the price on his head? It would be an odd non-sequitur, but Hanzo was at a loss to think of anything else. He had assumed it to be an open secret of little worth. He had discovered the bounty almost immediately when he had performed a quick search for information on Overwatch and its personnel during his stopover in Daisen. Jesse McCree was one of the most expensive criminals in the world, which would have interested Hanzo greatly if the cowboy were not an associate-by-duress, and if the United States’ haphazard bounty system could be trusted to properly distinguish between the criminal and the accused. Overwatch apparently did not trust it, and Hanzo certainly did not, either. The Shimada-gumi had “requested” the placement of several bounties for many of its enemies in America through its government contacts, and it had mattered little if there was an official criminal history or not. Hanzo would probably have an American bounty himself if his betrayal were not such an embarrassment for the clan.

LOL, you gotta have a good reason for Hanzo not to go for that bounty. Even if Genji invited him to Overwatch, there’s gotta be a good reason for Hanzo not to immediately shoot Jesse in the head.

Also an excellent opportunity to jab at the American criminal “justice” system. I Have Opinions, y’all, and I love dropping them into the text every once in a while.

So, if not the bounty, what?

Hanzo mentally shrugged. If the cowboy believed he had something, perhaps he did, but he sincerely doubted it amounted to anything. Sixty million dollars was nothing compared to being Genji’s comrade. What could possibly tempt him to ignore the debt he owed there? But he might as well try to find out what the cowboy was talking about, if he could.

“I do not know what you are referring to,” he said, making sure to lose some of the monotone in favor of a slightly confused edge.

The cowboy set his jaw for a moment. “Don’ go bullshittin’ me, Shimada,” he said in a low growl. “You told 76 everythin’ else--why wouldn’ you go the full mile, especially about that?”

[TEXT REDACTED]

Hanzo could feel his eyebrows creep together again. So it had something to do with the debriefing? Under the hot glare of the cowboy, he quickly ran over his entire conversation with the Soldier, trying to find what he had apparently left unsaid. The Soldier had been thorough about everything from the time Hanzo had arrived, to his surveillance pattern to the attack itself to all the cowboy’s negligence--

--but no, not all the cowboy’s negligence.

It was actually hard to think of a mistake for Jesse to commit--I don’t want Jesse to be an idiot or a fool in any way, shape, or form, so it was difficult to come up with something that was believable yet would make sense to someone as clever and intelligent as Jesse McCree. The key was his faith in teammates and his having spent years with no one at his side but the criminals he just bagged--lots of things make sense when you’re alone versus when you’re working in a team, and he’s rusty.

His expression cleared. Of course. Hanzo had omitted the detail where he had attempted to warn the cowboy about the likely schedule of the Yoneyama, a key piece of information that could have cut their numbers in half at the beginning of the battle, as well as greatly delayed the arrival of reinforcements. It was the cowboy’s fault that Overwatch had dropped in just in time to find themselves sandwiched between defenders and attackers, an unenviable position. It occurred to Hanzo that had they arrived a few minutes later still, both shifts of Yoneyama guards would have been clustered around the warehouse, possibly able to retreat into and double the fortifications of the warehouse, and who knew how that would have affected the final result.

Hanzo had not failed to mention this to the Soldier by choice--it had simply not occurred to Hanzo to say anything about it, possibly due to his disturbed state of mind, and the Soldier’s questions had not moved in that direction. Perhaps he, too, had been distracted, by Hanzo knowing next to nothing about the team.

If this was the “dirt”, then it truly amounted to nothing--it was merely a small addendum on the rest of the cowboy’s actions. Hanzo was surprised the cowboy thought it of any note, to be honest. Perhaps the Soldier had been pushed to the very edge by Hanzo’s report--he had certainly seemed to be building towards some near-apocalyptic rage when Hanzo had fled outside--and the cowboy had only barely avoided some enormous consequence by the skin of his teeth.

More likely, Hanzo decided, the cowboy suspected that he had been searching for something to discredit him, something he could blackmail him with. The thought almost made him snort. What use would that be? Overwatch was already overlooking a sixty million dollar bounty--in the face of that, what could Hanzo, half-agent and murderer, possibly say or do that could shake that apparently unflappable trust the organization had in the cowboy? However--

You’d be surprised, Hanzo.

Hanzo felt his back loosen marginally, noting that he had unconsciously began to curl forward slightly as he had been thinking. But now he could relax, just a little, because now he had a fix on the cowboy’s odd behavior from the moment Hanzo had dumped him next to his comrades at the warehouse.

After the near-disastrous battle, he knew that Hanzo’s report would inevitably result in short-term censure, but his position in Overwatch was secure overall, so he had feigned nervousness in an attempt to see what Hanzo would do if he was under the impression that he had some leverage against him. If Hanzo were more easily duped, he might have pounced on that leverage and tried to use it to some end or other, but the cowboy could then reveal the attempt in order to cast doubt on Hanzo himself, if more doubt was possible.

Clever. Very clever. Hanzo could barely refrain from shaking his head wryly as he evenly returned the cowboy’s glare. When he had first met him, it had been hard to believe that he had been part of a black ops organization for any amount of time, but Hanzo had been wise not to let his wild, ruffled, unkempt appearance deceive him. He was turning out to be something of an opponent.

I love having Hanzo respect Jesse for all the wrong reasons. I LOVE IT.

Hanzo felt his lips curve ever so slightly at the thought. An opponent, but in a game of what, exactly? Hanzo had nothing to lose except his life, after all, and even that already belonged to another, if only he would exercise that right.

Whatever the game was, though, Hanzo had little interest in playing.

Here comes the nuclear bomb.

He made a slight show of relaxing, arranging his knees into a slightly more comfortable position before speaking. “Agent McCree, it would change nothing if I went to the Soldier to amend my report,” he said, letting his face drop into an almost bored expression.

The cowboy, on the other hand, looked surprised. “What d’you mean by that, exactly?” he asked after a moment.

Hanzo gave a tiny sigh. The cowboy was his handler, so if he wanted to continue the game, Hanzo would be forced to participate, even minimally--but surely both men had better things to do with their time. Hanzo considered for a moment, before looking around them. The air was beginning to chill and leach the warmth from his skin as their surroundings darkened. If the branches above did not block the view, the first stars might have been visible in the blueblack sky. “How openly may I speak here? Are we secure?”

The cowboy frowned, looking a bit thrown by the question. “We’re--secure,” he said. “Mercy and Athena’re keepin’ an eye on the drones.” A look of understanding dawned then, and he lowered his voice almost to a growl again. “So say what you gotta say. Nothin’ and no one will overhear.”

Hanzo rather doubted that, but the alternative was going back into the safehouse, where the Soldier or the doctor were much more likely to overhear what, in the end, only the cowboy needed to know.

“You do not trust me,” he said without preamble. “You believe Overwatch should not trust me, that much is obvious. Did the Soldier tell you that I agree with you?” The cowboy sucked in a breath through his nose, which was all Hanzo allowed before he continued. Best to speak quickly, now.

“I defended your actions to him. You wished to protect your teammates from me, a proven danger. You are right to do this. I would do the same in your place. I would, perhaps, do more.” The cowboy’s eye twitched, and Hanzo smiled wanly. “In the end, however, it is unnecessary. There is absolutely nothing for me to gain by betraying Overwatch. There might be some riches, of course, but what use are riches without honor? And there is only one source of honor since I raised my--raised arms against Genji. And he will provide it, once he comes to his senses.”

“What?” the cowboy muttered, face closed, eyes narrowed.

Hanzo did not bother to hide his sigh. “The doctor tells me,” he said quietly, “that for whatever reason, he has only recently been blinded by this idea that forgiveness will suffice. It will not. You must only wait for his vision to clear, as I am.

“You worry for his safety when it does, of course, but he has defeated me each time we have met since he revealed himself. I have no doubt he will again, when he is ready.” The words were only a little forced, despite Hanzo’s pride. Even now, it sought to rise up and rage against the notion of his brother besting him, a bitter reminder that the past was not truly past. “We only need to tolerate each other for a little while, cowboy. I truly do not expect it to be long. There is nothing to do except indulge him until then. If he wishes for me to serve Overwatch while I wait for him to remember his right, so be it.”

This whole scene came from “We only need to tolerate each other for a little while, cowboy. I truly do not expect it to be long.” I originally put it near the beginning of their conversation, and the rest of the scene grew around it. I had to work to make it believable for Hanzo to be so frank with Jesse.

He paused, considering. “Also,” he mused slowly, “It was Overwatch that saved his life. I assume so, from what the doc--from what Mercy has said?” The cowboy nodded slowly. “Then I owe Overwatch, regardless of Genji’s wishes. Because of them, Genji lives, and so does this chance at redemption.”

At the word redemption , the cowboy stiffened, and his flesh hand went to cover the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. Hanzo gave no sign that he noticed, keeping his eyes fixed on the cowboy’s face. “Why tell me this?” he breathed out, as if he could not help himself.

I’m looking forward to revealing what’s in his pocketses. I knew it was going to be Something, but I didn’t decide exactly what it was until I watching @nimpnawakproduction‘s art stream as she very generously drew out this scene. She asked what was in there, and right then and there it just came to me what it going to be.

Hanzo huffed. “You fear my intentions, for Genji and Overwatch. This has been clear from the beginning. So there they are, laid bare.”

“And you think I’ll just step--” the cowboy seemed almost to choke on his words, but Hanzo would continue if he would not.

“Step aside?” The cowboy flinched , and Hanzo, in spite of himself, rolled his eyes. “ Yes , cowboy. I believe even you can appreciate the convenience, even the elegance, of allowing a problem to resolve itself.”

I’m really proud of this line. Hanzo is revealing a little bit of his newfound respect for Jesse in the most passive aggressive possible--but he doesn’t know he might as well have just gutshot Jesse.

Silence. The cowboy kept his hand over his pocket, staring, almost squinting at Hanzo through the deepening gloom.

What are you thinking about, Jesse?

What indeed.

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I hope you enjoyed it!!

#asks #behind the scenes #my fics #Anonymous

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khecidsdragons-blog · 5 years ago

Text

The Steamer Trunk

“When she finally entered the study she yelped and dropped her purse on the floor. The trunk was open. She had latched it before she left.”

A short and strangely creepy story.

...

BTW, this is a hurdy-gurdy:

https://youtu.be/ts_zwTFXZgE

youtube

A beautiful woman with strikingly luscious brown hair sold the steamer trunk to her. Red lips and a generous smile commented on its inlay of flowers, telling her what an unusual detail this was for such a piece as her hands traced along its handsome leather buckles, in perfect condition after almost a hundred and fifty years. The warm, smooth interior smelled of old books and cedar. It was that heady perfume that captured her, something of old book shops, her father's cigar boxes, and evenings curled up with nothing to do but get lost in a story. She spent too much on it. It was not the sort of thing she ever bought for herself. Nina was ever the sensible, frugal one, with most of her wardrobe picked from discount stores and thrift shops. The few pieces of hand-me-down furniture that she'd brought with her into her late father's downtown flat were an insult to the flat's hardwood floors and magnificent tin ceilings, no matter how carefully she filled in the scratches with felt tip marker.

Nina fumbled with her purse as she followed the woman to the sales counter, which was no more than a writing desk in this cramped little antique shop, then stood there absentmindedly biting her lip and tucking the loose strands of her mousy brown hair back behind her ears. This was the fourth time she'd been to see the trunk, and she brought cash; the entire contents of her modest savings. As the woman engaged in small talk, her bright eyes and her perfect skin glowing in the warm light of Tiffany lamps and hanging silks, Nina seemed not to hear her at all; her head swam with the wild hum and murmur of the music outside the door. The music man was playing a hurdy-gurdy, the strangest instrument she'd ever seen; its drone maintained by the turning of a crank turned in his right hand, and the notes pressed out of the buzzing strings by keys by his left. She nearly stumbled over him on her way out, consumed with the details of the trunk’s promised delivery. He begged her for a dollar with a grin, and she stopped. This was her habit, everyday on her lunch break she stopped to listen to him and gave him a dollar. That’s how she found the antique shop. One day she saw him through the window at work, playing across the street, and had to see. He sat outside the narrow antique shop on a blanket, stinking of cheap gin, cigarettes and asphalt, smiling through his grizzled beard and rocking back and fourth as he played like a lunatic. She apologized because her wallet was empty, and he thanked her anyway. All the way home the mad crooning of that thing filled her ears, and she didn't remember her evening, or the next morning, besides some details about having too many glasses of wine and wishing the trunk to arrive sooner.

There was already an empty space for it at the end of her reading room. Two armchairs and a heavily mantled fireplace filled the greater part of the room, and built-in shelves filled with books; these were the only things left of her father besides the four poster bed that he had never slept in. He died on the couch that had occupied the now empty space. It sat across from the armchairs and she'd had it hauled away, along with his collection of instruments, unable to look at them. A ghost of unworn wooden flooring were all that was left of it. The study was the only room she ever spent any time in, rather, all her time in, besides her hours pushing overpriced bouquets in a miserable flower shop across from the antique shop. The flowers were the most pleasant part of the job, but it was a wonder how little they came to matter in the deluge of orders and irate customers and a boss who seemed to think of her as a fixture of the place, like a broom or a register. She'd never imagined that such a social job could make her feel so alone. And so every evening she brought home a styrofoam box of take-out and took up her perch in one of the overstuffed armchairs with a book and another glass of wine. Besides the study and master bedroom, there was a dining room with a small television set left unplugged on the floor, an empty guest room, and a kitchen full of expired boxes and too many bottles of soy sauce. Sometimes she would sleep in the bedroom adjacent to the study, but more often than not she would wake in the morning still in her armchair, or wrapped in a blanket on the floor by the fireplace.

The wild strains of the mad musician played on inside her head through the days she waited for it to arrive. She heard him play through the wood of the building, in tune with the creaking of its beams. The hum of those strings pushed themselves down through the chimney along with the murmur of the streets on the late summer wind, and their cadence beat through the floor with the pulse of life in the deli below. She could feel the mad player swaying in her restless dreams, and her nights and days bled together.

Two dark haired men brought it up the stairs, whose faces she could not recall. She neglected to thank them outside of a hurried nod right before she locked her door.

And there it was.

It fit perfectly in its place on the other side of the little table and armchairs, looking quite as though the room had been waiting for its finishing piece. Nina forgot her wine and sat before it on the end of the large rug that defined the seating area. It was handsome, far more so than she recalled, and it was finally hers. Smiling, she drew her fingers over the inlay of flowers in blonde, cherry, and ebony wood, feeling the minute seams in the design. The wood was warm next to the black metal ribs, latches, and the robust lock whose patina was like cold satin under her fingertip. She pressed her little finger into the hole of the lock, leaving the scent of iron on her skin. The trunk was closed, though the lock was open. Two heavy latches and two leather buckles sealed it shut. Nina touched the ring of one latch, running her finger back and forth across it, and then pried her finger under it to disengage it, and it snapped open forcefully. For some reason she thought of her father on his couch, white faced and lifeless.

Her heart pounded in her ears as though it knew something she didn't, and a sinking feeling settled into her stomach. She told herself she was just being silly, but the dread only grew.

"Well, It can wait until tomorrow. It’s exciting enough just to look at you tonight." Nina laughed at herself and swallowed.

She forced the latch back down and pulled herself up from the floor to retrieve the box of peppered chicken and rice she'd left on the edge of the table. Eating slowly from her usual place in the armchair, Nina's heart settled back into its proper rhythm. She took in the view of the room, now complete, and thought about what she might put inside her lovely new fixture, making little sounds of satisfaction at her meal. It seemed ever more delicious than anything she’d ever eaten. She would order this dish again. When her limbs and eyelids finally grew heavy Nina climbed into the softness of the big, down-clad bed and dropped into a deep chasm of sleep.

She returned from work the next day in a delighted fluster, casting her purse and keys on the entryway table without a thought as she unbuttoned her blouse on the way to the bedroom. Perhaps it was because she'd slept so well; she'd been in this state all day. Even her boss had remarked on it after watching her chatter on with the customers and steal moments in the backroom to press her face into the roses; some snicker about falling in love. The hurdy-gurdy man could be seen on the other side of the street, playing all day. At lunchtime she'd brought him a little box of peppered chicken and left it on the edge of his blanket, to which he nodded and grinned. Now, Nina bustled about the flat in shorts and an old t shirt, blasting her music whilst dusting and tidying every nook. She'd found a lovely cello album set to a heady beat in the bookcase. Each time she passed the trunk it tugged at the corner of her eye and she’d turn again to polishing until the tendrils of her hair stuck to the sides of her face. When she found herself staring at it yet again, she turned up her music until it rattled the mantle and pounded her brain. Eventually her aching calves made her give up and crumple down onto the edge of the coffee table in silence.

Nina smeared the sweat out of her eyes while a breeze drifted in from the window, cooling the damp cotton under her arms. Her eyes found the lovely trunk laid before her.

It was still there, waiting for her, pulling at her.

Nina's head spun and she stared at it, catching her breath, refusing to move. She'd overexerted herself. She counted the seconds and filled her lungs, then emptied them with a forceful sigh the way she remembered from those old relaxation tapes, then again. What was it that she decided to store in that thing? It occurred to her that she still had to gather up the rags into the laundry basket and put the cleaners back under the sink, but even as her fingers groped for the empty bottle of wood polish next to her on the table, all thought was abandoned. The bottle rolled quietly onto the floor, and Nina gave in and lurched forward.

Kneeling before it, one trembling finger hovered above the lock, then fell upon the mechanism. Her two hands spread out over the length of it, pushing themselves over the slats and braces. She brought an arm over the top of it and rested her face on its lid, letting this feeling intoxicate her as she listened to the echo of the nothingness inside it. Right now she was glad she was alone.

"I don't know what this is," she whispered as she roused, still overcome with this strangeness. She was about to speak again, but there were no more words within her. There was only one thing to do. Nina bit her lip and pulled the first latch open with a clack.

The trunk sighed as the seal released. Nina sighed too, “That wasn’t so bad.”

She tucked her legs under her and released the next latch, then worked the stiff leather straps out of their buckles. With both hands on the sturdy lid, Nina put her weight against it but tottered, suddenly dizzy. She let go and rubbed her palm against her brow. Nina hadn't had a dizzy spell in ages.

"Dammit," she muttered, hefting the lid defiantly. She braced herself on its lip as its hinges took over, opening with a billow of that cedar perfume. She leaned in. The paneling inside was perfectly smooth and hardened with age, and she touched it lovingly.

"Guilty pleasures," she whispered, and touched it again. Her dizziness was mellowing out into something more innocuous, but her skin tingled and flushed.

In the corner she found the key to the lock, which was a simple oval on a pitted shaft with blocky teeth, kind of flat and smaller than she had imagined it by the size of the lock; it hid easily in her palm. Immediately she unclasped the chain she always wore and strung on her little iron jewel. It warmed up quickly between her collarbones. She wasn't sure what to do with the heart-shaped locket she removed, and stared at it in her hand. It had been a Christmas present from a relative, which she supposed was why she wore it for as long as she could remember. She’d never put anyone’s picture inside it. It was empty. Nina decided right there that she didn't care for it. She thought to toss it in the wastebasket in the corner, but set it on the floor as she turned her attention back to her beloved chest.

Dangling her arm inside, she said, "It's as big as my bathtub," and her voice rang against the empty interior. Her smile fell. She wanted to get in it, desperately.

Nina fought back sudden fearful tears. The lure of the open box was tangible, as though her bones were made of iron, and it was her magnet, pulling at her from within, against herself. She braced against its edge, gasped, and coughed out a little sob. She could see herself in her mind's eye, curled up inside, swallowed up by its darkness, pale skin against the paneling. And then she imagined her boss, standing next to her, scandalized by the impropriety of a grown woman sleeping in a box, and telling the customers about it for a laugh at Nina's expense.

But it didn't matter. This, she knew, was where she was supposed to be.

"No!" She shouted and shut the lid, then scrambled back until she was stopped by the coffee table.

The trunk stood, silent and relentless at the end of the rug.

She covered her eyes, looked at it again and threw the polish bottle at it, which bounced back at her.

The trunk stared back until she wilted to the floor, where she woke in the morning.

The next day at work was quite different than the last. She’d left the window open and all the cleaning supplies out in her desperate attempt to be on time. She was late anyway, hair hastily thrown in a bun, with the acrid smell of polish and sweat still on her skin. Twice she mixed up customers’ orders, and every time someone talked to her she seemed to be somewhere else. She couldn’t think, and her head swam with the scent and the touch of the smooth wood all day. Her boss finally sent her home early, figuring her a liability in this state. Nina trudged home with her eyes on the cracks in the cement and arms crossed against the first fall chill, having left without her sweater. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Never in her life had she been sent home from work in disgrace.

On her way out she noticed the hurdy-gurdy man wasn’t on his blanket, but she heard his tune in her ears.

When she finally entered the study she yelped and dropped her purse on the floor.

The trunk was open. She had latched it before she left.

Nina swallowed against a sudden knot in her throat. A few cold tears slid their way down her neck and onto the key that hung there. She clutched it tightly, and it was as cold as ice in her hands.

But she already knew what she needed to do. And she supposed it didn’t matter anyway. There was some kind of relief in knowing. She wasn’t sure what she had been fighting it for.

Obediently, Nina crossed to the trunk and knelt.

“I know,” she whispered as she stroked its smoothness.

She didn’t fight as its pull rose in her bones and held onto her arm, then her hips and legs, which folded against the bottom of the trunk, falling into it like water into a basin. She fit inside like it was made for her. Waves of relief began to spill out of her in tears and gasps. Nina let them fall, and then each sob came with a tide of loneliness. As she cried she emptied herself of the years of pain, and when they were done she felt somehow clean inside, and rested, and curled her hands delicately beneath her cheek with a smile. No tears were left under her hands, the wood had absorbed them. In the room the light of the sun was becoming dim through the windows, darkening the top of the bookshelves which she could just see over the edge of the trunk. Warm light reflected off the mantle and made a tiny beam through the keyhole, like a little candle. If she closed the lid she would have that little light and some air. She was so very tired. Nina reached up and pulled the lid closed. Darkness enveloped her, but for that tiny beam of gold which made her hands glow when held up to the keyhole.

Nina drifted away.

When Nina woke, she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed, or if she were still dreaming. Her head felt too light and her body seemed far away. No thoughts came to tell her what day it was, or why she couldn’t wake herself, but somehow she wasn’t bothered by the loss. She waited for some piece of reality to break in, and eventually she found her limbs and the paneling around her, and remembered that she was in her box.

Cold, damp air and silver light greeted her as she opened the lid and sat up. She expected to be stiff, but she had no pain at all. In fact, she felt almost as though she could float up to the top of the bookshelf and perch there.

It was morning. Carelessly, she had left the window open another night. She went to close it. The curtains and window seat left dampness on her arms and knees. Strange. It must have rained. There were brown leaves on the sill, which she brushed back out the window.

In the blue glow of the sky above, she could tell that the sun had just risen. Given the early hour she still had time to clean up yesterday’s mess at the shop. Maybe even get there early and win back the good graces of her boss. Well, at least make today tolerable. She picked up the forgotten bottle of polish on the rug and the rags, and noticed her fingers left shining trails in a layer of dust on its surface. More brown leaves lay on the rug. Dust covered the table, and her armchairs, and the mantle, and the books.

Nina cursed under her breath. All her hard work had been wasted on an open window. She dropped her pile of rags back on the table in defeat and made her way to the bedroom instead. Maybe she’d be able to bring herself to dust it all again after work.

When she left she walked halfway down the street then all the way back again to get her long coat. It was an unusually cold morning for this time of year, and the chill made frosty puffs of her breath and bit through the soles of her slides. The cold bit at her thoughts as well, tugging at some unspoken dread slowly rising; something she knew, but wouldn’t acknowledge.

At the shop the morning haze was still thick in the air. The windows were dark. She was here before her boss, with lots of time to get started filling orders and picking up the stockroom, which had almost certainly been left in shambles for her. She had to kick a pile of rotted leaves away from the door to get her footing, which stuck to her ankles relentlessly. The dread grew.

When she put her key in the lock, it stuck. She wiggled it back out, taking care not to snap it, and tried again. It wasn’t fitting. She turned it over. No, that was backwards. It couldn’t be the wrong key. She checked the ring. There weren’t many to choose from. That was the right key, she knew it. Nina looked again at the leaves on the wet sidewalk, then peered through the window.

She had no way to explain what she saw. There were no flowers, no decorations, nothing but the barren sales counter and a few dismantled wire racks in the middle of the display floor. Nina felt dizzy, closed her eyes and swallowed. She made herself count and breathe, slowly.

Looking down the street, this way and that, the neighborhood was alive as ever. The coffee shop on the corner was bustling, and the little market was already open. A group of men in suits made their way toward the court building on the next block.

Not knowing what to do, Nina reached for her keys again, sure that this was just another one of her silly mistakes. She must be putting the key in wrong. She stopped when she noticed a piece of paper taped to the inside of the window where the open sign was supposed to be.

Moved to 551 Morrow street.

Nina knew where that was. Her boss had always wanted a space there. It was only a few blocks away. She hurried down to the crosswalk towards the department stores of Morrow street, all the while feeling as though she might lift away like a child’s lost balloon. Her cold feet were the only parts of her that seemed real, and while she knew she should be trying to figure this all out, or remember whatever it was that she’d forgotten, the only thing she could think of was the drone of the music man and the comfort of her beloved trunk.

Crossing the street she saw that the music man wasn’t in his place, and the narrow entryway that had led to the antique shop was boarded up. When she asked the man who ran the butcher store what happened to the hurdy-gurdy man and the antique shop, he just looked at her like she was crazy.

Nina continued on down the street. She hesitated before she rounded the corner of Morrow, unsure she wanted to know if the shop had moved, if all this was really happening. Clutching her purse in front of her, Nina made herself come to the edge of the corner and look. There it was across the street. A massive banner hung from the awning, advertising Valentine’s Day, Grand Opening. Five tall windows and double glass doors were framed with a red brick façade, fronted with mounds of long stem roses and carnations of every color in buckets. There was a man she didn’t recognize greeting customers at the door, and a couple entered, arms entwined and laughing.

Nina stood there until her feet went numb, then not knowing what else to do, turned around to walk home.

The rest of the way home, the sound of the music man rose up and grew louder in her ears. As she came up the stairs she found herself swaying to his beat.

Nina kicked off her sodden shoes like refuse and left them in the hall. Still bundled in her coat, she quietly entered the study and sat down on her coffee table, then drew her knees up to her chest and peered over them at trunk.

A tide of longing swept through her, and she held herself more tightly.

When she closed her eyes she saw herself asleep inside it, and the music man played on. Minutes passed while her frozen mind refused to do anything else.

It was speaking to her, and now she finally understood what it was asking. She shook her head and whispered hoarsely into her knees, “I’m not ready yet.”

Nina forced thoughts into her mind, searching for something to hold onto in her world. She should call somebody. She had an aunt who sent her a birthday card every few years. Or maybe that girl who used to work at the shop. She had her number saved on a folded piece of paper somewhere. But Nina’s heart quickly failed her. There was no one. Not even a dog to worry about her. She had nowhere to go. Nowhere to be. No one to even notice she was gone.

Her grip on her knees gave way, and she put her hands on her lap and looked at her feet. She’d read every book on the shelves. She was tired of wine and take-out, and staring at the empty armchair across from her. She was tired of waking up, going to work, and coming home to empty rooms, day after day.

Nina didn’t want to stay.

“I’m sorry.” Nina whispered. “I just wanted to make sure.”

Nina slid her coat off of her shoulders and lay it neatly on the table, then thought better of it.

“Wait. Just a few things…”

Nina hung her coat in the closet, tossed the rags and cleaners under the kitchen sink, and made her bed. Then she put on her favorite silk shirt, a brilliant teal blouse she wore on holidays, and the black skirt she was always afraid would attract the wrong kind of attention. She let her brown hair out of its bindings and brushed it until it was lovely. Looking in the mirror, she decided that sometimes she was pretty.

Barefoot, Nina knelt in front of the trunk again, and lay her head on its bulk as the waves of its pull intensified, sending ripples of electric joy through her limbs.

“Thank you.”

Nina opened the lid and sat inside it, with deep sighing. Then, just as she was about to close the lid, she sat up again.

“I almost forgot.”

Nina pinched the clasp of her necklace open and let the key drop into her palm, then placed it carefully on the floor outside the trunk. There, she found the gold locket where she had left it. She looped it back on the necklace and returned it to its place on the floor, next to the key. Maybe someone else would put pictures in it.

Safely tucked away in her trunk, Nina closed the heavy lid over her and settled down.

Nina drifted away.

At some point, the timeless darkness of the trunk was interrupted when Nina was awakened by the click of the key turning in its lock.

With a sleepy smile Nina said, “Good night.”

A woman’s voice replied, “Sleep well, Nina. Good night.”

As she drifted back into the darkness she could hear the sounds of the latches clacking shut, and the leather straps sliding through their buckles.

Sometimes Nina would wake and peer out of the keyhole. The room changed. The armchairs were recovered in beautiful red velvet. The old paperbacks were replaced. Once, she saw a bouquet of roses on the table, and sometimes a man and woman talked together in front of a roaring fire. She thought the woman looked like her, but she wore red lipstick and had a generous smile. The man looked like someone she used to see in the shop sometimes. He would spend a long time looking at the flowers and asking Nina questions about them, then run his hand through his hair a lot and leave without buying anything. They looked happy, and Nina was glad for them. Later toys would appear on the floor, and Nina would hear the woman give a warning not to play with the trunk. Eventually, Nina stopped looking.

Once again, the sound of the key woke her.

“Nina, it’s been a long time. Would you like to come out?”

Nina rolled over in her place. She could feel the cedar paneling on her skin.

“No. I would like to stay in here, please.”

“Are you sure? There won’t be another time.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Goodbye, Nina.”

“Goodbye. Thank you.”

And with the last click of the key, Nina dissolved into the darkness of her steamer trunk.

#short story #twilight zone #creepy #hurdy gurdy #steamer trunk

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riddle-factory · 7 years ago

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@featheredfiend

Ever since Oswald mentioned his birthday in passing to Mooney some-odd years back, Edward had all but tattooed the date into his memory. When they were poor nobodies, one living with his mother and the other recently sacked from Wayne Enterprises, they’d celebrate with bottles of cheap champagne from Fish’s and get pleasantly drunk together. Now, however, wiling the time away in a drunken stupor is just a typical Thursday night, and as a result, our dear Riddler has had to step up his game considerably.

So, on the crisp July morning of the twenty-sixth, Oswald awakens alone. There’s no breakfast in bed, as has been the case in previous years -- but, in its place, a little green card pinned to the pillow beside him.

Something came up that couldn’t wait. Love you. -E

Could it be that this year, Edward had forgotten? If his recent level of ambient stress is any indicator, he just may have. Were he to reflect on the matter, poor Edward hasn’t been getting enough sleep lately, all holed up in his workshop doing god knows what. As the day drones on, he’s nowhere to be found. No sweet, heartfelt notes peppering the walls and surfaces with romantic riddles -- nothing. It’s only after the sun sets that Oswald hears from his partner, and when he does, it’s hardly announced.

Dressed uncharacteristically in a black and white tuxedo -- a green bow tie and cummerbund, of course -- he all but ambushes his lover between meetings at the Lounge. One room away, a well-dressed lady and her small collection of thugs picks her fingernails impatiently as Ed whisks Oswald away by the waist, pinky-promising to deal with any and all missed appointments and winking.

Oswald, of course, won’t wear the blindfold that’s waiting for him in the limousine parked outside. Such a spoilsport. He’ll have a perfect view of their destination over champagne flutes -- this time, quite expensive. Gotham Museum of Natural History climbs into view and widens as the limo draws near and finally drops them off on the curb outside the dimly lit establishment.

By ten o’clock, the place is a ghost town. A janitor in the main foyer lets them in and escorts them, limping and mumbling, past tyrannosaurus rex skeletons and paintings on loan from the Louvre in France, through lofty halls decorated with roman columns. These treasures, some of which have been on Edward’s to-steal list for some time now, however, aren’t worth a single moment of his attention. Rather, he’s fixated on his Penguin like a child with a delicious secret.

“Thank you, Joel. Send my regards to your husband and the kids.” Ed’s charming smile sees the old janitor off after a jangling exchange of keys.

Here, past all the shimmering treasures of the museum, Oswald no doubt finds himself in a moment of disappointing curiosity. They’ve walked past all the wonders of art and science, down some long, beige hallway, down two elevators, to where there are no more windows, only empty offices and storage rooms.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

They key clicks the lock out of place, and the door swings open. At first, one’s eyes would struggle to adjust between the florescent-lit hallway and the candlelit room beyond Ed’s mysterious door. Three long seconds of silence, and when the door closes behind them and the scene becomes clear, Oswald is, perhaps, first struck by the hundreds of flickering candles scattered throughout the long, narrow room.

In one corner, a table for two complete with tablecloth and cutlery. Two feet away, a gramophone croons Chopin and, steaming, cedar planked salmon, freshly sliced lemons, and two glasses of Pinot Noir. But, these are just the essentials. The reason for their unlikely destination is what surrounds their table in this dim basement room.

In columns all down the width of the room, thin, wide drawers are pulled out here and there, their contents propped up against the columns in huge, glass-paned frames. Birds. Millions of birds, of all shapes and colors. Some, taxidermied and posing atop the shelves, and others pinned like moths in their frames, labeled and organized in perfect harmony. Propped up all throughout the room, holographic starlings and red-tipped woodpeckers wish Oswald Cobblepot a silent and symphonic happy birthday.

“You can pick out your favorites when we’re finished with dinner. Tomorrow I’ll help you find a nice place on the wall to hang them.”

#cut for length lmao #featheredfiend #threads #u totally dont have to respond to this but if u wanna then lets fuckin thread it lmao #v;mv.01 ( com v )

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clicksubmit123 · 5 years ago

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How to choose a perfect Native American Style Flute

Being a beginner or you are looking to upgrade your present flute to a new one, selecting a flute that best suit you can be a bit confusing task. If you want to buy Native American Style Flute and blank about it then, this is the right platform where you will get free advice and guidance to buy a perfect one for yourself. In this article, you will get to know about all the features you must consider while searching for Native American drone flute for sale.

· While purchasing a flute you should look for quality and suitability first. A good flute is easier and comfortable to play, lasts longer and its cost varies from brand to brand. There are different categories of flute-like: beginner, intermediate and advanced so it is your duty to choose according to your level. Depending on sound quality and the wood type you will get Native American bass flute and Native American drone flutes for sale which are beautifully handcrafted and made out of aromatic cedar wood, walnut wood, maple, blood wood and many more which affects the sound quality.

· Before you buy native American bass flute from any supermarket or warehouse check the anatomy of the flute; right from the head joint to the foot joint every part should be assembled and ensure that there is no missing key. Examine the interiors should be free from dent and scratches. Check the description on the flute case and if it’s allowed by the seller then play a few scales on flute. You should read the flute guide before buying to get an idea to calculate that which size of the flute is best suited to your hand size.

· You must search for the different brands online, look at the images, and search for the sound sample. Look at the review and the return policy- a serious seller will accept returns and offer refunds if the customer is not happy with the purchase. It is suggested to a beginner to purchase a smaller and cheaper flute in a higher key. This way you have to spend a little amount of money and actually learn to play Native American Style Flute before a big investment.

These are the complete list of suggestions and guidelines you must follow to get a flute that is comfortable to play. This is the right time to buy your love flute and if you want to gather more information then check http://www.southerncrossflutes.com/

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ybohadi · 5 years ago

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UF Stranding Biologist - Marine Animal Rescue Program

The University of Florida Marine Animal Rescue Program (UF MAR) is seeking a full time Marine Animal Stranding Biologist for stranding response and recovery in Levy, Taylor, and Dixie counties. The Stranding Biologist, along with UF Marine Animal Rescue veterinarians and staff, will respond to sick, injured, or deceased marine mammals and sea turtles, as the primary coverage staff member. The Stranding Biologist will be stationed in a guest office in the Lower Suwanee National Wildlife Refuge in Chiefland, FL, interact closely with the refuge personnel, and must be willing to live near the coast. The Stranding Biologist is supported by faculty and staff at the UF College of Veterinary Medicine (UF CVM) and Aquatic Animal Health Program volunteers and will report directly to the faculty principal investigators as their main supervisors. The Stranding Biologist will also work in partnership with the UF/IFAS Nature Coast Biological Station and the Cedar Key Dolphin Project, as !

well as a host of other close partners. The successful applicant will continue to build the fairly new stranding program with volunteers, local personnel, training and public education. The position's responsibilities will be based initially on the experience of the applicant hired and additional training will be provided where necessary. Additionally, this position is funded by a grant received from the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation (NFWF) as part of the (NOAA NMFS) Southeast Stranding Network under the Marine Mammal Health and Stranding Response Program.

The Stranding Biologist will be responsible for the following:

* Coordinate stranding response, recovery and reports of cetaceans, manatees, and sea turtles within the designated response area.

* Organize and oversee the daily operations of the stranding program including, but not limited to monitoring and response to stranding calls and adhering to local and national laws and policies regarding protected species and habitats.

* Collect data and complete required documentations (e.g. 24-hour report, Level A Data, Sea Turtle Stranding and Salvage Network Report (STSSN)) for all stranded animals and complete required reporting to databases including GulfMAP and FWC's STSSN.

* Develop and submit quarterly program activity reports and budget reimbursement requests to the NFWF coordinator of the grant

* Coordinate and conduct or assist veterinarian in necropsies both in the field and at UF CVM, including coordinating the disposal of carcasses and waste materials.

* Maintain inventory database for all samples and marine mammal parts in conjunction with UF CVM staff and proper NMFS, USFWS, and FWC permitting regulations.

* Maintain equipment, vehicle, and vessel as well as required logs for vehicle usage.

* Develop and maintain a volunteer, partner, and public outreach network to assist in stranding response, public support, and necropsy.

* Coordinate UFMAR's involvement in public outreach events, including organizing attendance at festivals, scheduling lectures, and developing school programs to increase awareness of the program and the species involved.

* Conduct workshops and trainings for stranding program volunteers in conjunction with the PI, UF CVM faculty and staff.

* Ensure adequate safety training and PPE for all volunteers, staff, and faculty for all procedures involved in stranding response and necropsy, including, but not limited to: hazardous and biological waste training, boating safety, animal handling, and zoonotic disease prevention after completing University training in these areas.

* Assist in grant writing and development activities.

* Assist and participate with research projects related to stranding events, local population studies with program participants and pursue drone certification with UF for field use.

* When not engaged in primary stranding efforts, biologist can assist program partners such as the Cedar Key Dolphin Project(Dolphin Population Research) or Nature Coast Biological Station with local research

* Work with program PI, faculty and staff to continue to enhance the stranding response in a not previously covered and challenging environment

Applicants should possess or develop the following qualifications:

* Proficient in Microsoft Office Suite and related software programs, preferably including Microsoft Access.

* Excellent organizational skills and the ability to work independently.

* Excellent interpersonal skills to foster and maintain a professional network of partners, volunteers, and supporters.

* Flexibility with regards to scheduling to accommodate the unpredictable nature of stranding response and requirement of 24/7 on-call status.

* High level interpersonal communication skills.

* Relevant experience in marine mammal stranding and necropsy (may be a combination of paid and unpaid work).

* Ability to lift and carry 50 lbs. unassisted after proper training.

* Ability to drive a large truck and boat including ability to trailer and tow vessel.

* Ability to work under harsh weather conditions.

* Grant writing skills are highly desirable.

Pay range: $15.00 to $17.00 per hour

This is a full time OPS position. Employees are eligible to receive benefits including health, eye, and dental insurance.

Minimum Requirements: Bachelor's degree in appropriate area of specialization and experience with stranding work (Cetaceans, manatees, and sea turtles).

Preferred Qualifications: Experience in stranding program(s) and procedures. Team based work ethic and leadership capabilities. CPR and first aid certifications. Experience with dolphin photo ID.

Applications for the position should include the following: CV/Resume, Cover letter, letters of reference from three individuals (preferably involved in the stranding field) including full contact information. Please send materials to Mike Walsh [email protected]<mailto:[email protected]> and Laurie Adler [email protected]<mailto:[email protected]>.

Application deadline: January 23rd, 2020 by 6:00pm

#internships #cetaceans #dolphins #whales

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digitalagriculturemmc-blog · 5 years ago

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Application of UAV in Zhejiang Forestry

Zhejiang Province is a large province of forestry resources. Since ancient times, it has said that there are “seven mountains, one water and two fields”. The existing forestry resources are more than 99 million mu, and the forest coverage rate of the province is over 60%. The population of forestry areas accounts for the total population of the province. 63% of Zhejiang Province has a higher overall value of forestry economy and a stable forestry economic income. In recent years, Zhejiang Province has embarked on the path of innovative forestry economic development, emphasizing the first implementation of forestry modernization. As an important application method in the field of modern forestry technology, it has a wide application space and is of great significance for promoting the development of forestry economy. This paper combines the current situation and future needs of forestry economic development in Zhejiang Province, and explores the drone to Zhejiang Forestry in accordance with the ideas of scientific and technological innovation. Value.

2.1 Forestry pest control

UAV technology is mainly used in the prevention and control of pests and diseases in Zhejiang Province. It is specifically used to monitor and control large-scale pests and diseases. The monitoring methods based on drones effectively compensate for the shortage of manual monitoring. UAVs are used to obtain monitoring data and establish The insect light with automatic data transmission function can effectively carry out the monitoring of pests and diseases, thus forming a scientific and comprehensive biological prevention and control monitoring system. The monitoring system based on drones can establish a wide-ranging pest and disease monitoring mechanism, which can comprehensively monitor the pests and diseases of common forests such as pine, bamboo, economic forest and cedar in the province, and can meet the monitoring of difficult areas in Zhejiang. Need to be able to use large unmanned aerial vehicles to clean up pests and diseases in the event of a sudden outbreak, which is to improve the response speed of responding to pests and diseases, better transmit the spraying of pesticides through airborne equipment, reasonably control the density of spraying pesticides, and pesticides. It is of great significance to assess the use, reduce the cost of pesticide spraying, improve the quality of pest control work, and meet the needs of Zhejiang's forestry economic development.

2.2 for forest fire prevention

Forest fire prevention is the top priority of forestry management. The key elements of forestry fire prevention work are to detect fires in advance and improve the observation of complex forestry areas. Professional control patrols for high-risk areas prone to fire. The risk of forest fire prevention is high, and it is necessary to accurately grasp and control the fire source. The UAV based on satellite remote sensing technology can meet the aerial imagery required for high-precision forestry fire prevention, help to reduce the problem of poor ground measurement accuracy, and also obtain high-resolution, high-precision, high-utility image resources. Contemporary new drones can already take off and land in complex areas. UAVs can load corresponding equipment to control the ground area, and can be close to observation, which is of great significance for accurately grasping the fire. At present, most of the UAVs deployed by the forestry departments of Zhejiang Province have high-definition digital lenses and multi-spectral imaging equipment, which meet the requirements of patrol navigation according to the established route, and can also obtain data information in real time. And there have been drones to improve the monitoring of fires during the high-incidence period. Through drones, timely detection of fires, timely reporting of fire information, control of losses, reduction of fire costs, and effective reduction of energy consumption for disaster relief have been achieved. Meet the fire rescue needs. At the same time, the forestry department pays attention to the implementation of fire-fighting responsibilities through drones, emphasizes the strengthening of the control of wild fire sources, and strives to form a drone operation team operated by special personnel to meet the application needs in complex environments.

2.3 Wildlife Monitoring

At present, drone technology is also used for wildlife monitoring, emphasizing the improvement of timeliness and efficiency of monitoring through wildlife monitoring. The drone's monitoring of forest wildlife has functions unmatched by other equipment, because the drone has a more flexible viewing angle, features convenient photographing and full angle, and the drone does not carry flammable and explosive substances, electric drones. The longer life time, the long-term monitoring of the wild fauna can be achieved, so as to achieve the goal of mastering the distribution of wild animals in Zhejiang Province.

2.4 Forestry Resources Planning and Research

Zhejiang Province has clearly defined the goal of deepening the comprehensive reform of forestry, emphasizing moderate development of scale operations, striving to develop precious colored forests, implementing the plan for new planting precious trees, and clarifying the task of maintaining national ecological security. The achievement of these tasks is largely based on effective forestry planning surveys. In order to better formulate forestry development plans and effectively establish forestry information systems, it is necessary to obtain high-precision image information based on satellite images to ensure that the images are intuitive, clear and clear. The use of drones for image capture can effectively compensate for the insufficiency of satellite imagery, which can eliminate the influence of factors such as climate change and complex terrain in Zhejiang mountains, thus effectively compensating for the poor resolution of satellite image shadows and homomorphisms. The problem. Low-altitude observation drones can obtain rich high-resolution images, achieve the goal of quickly obtaining surface information, help to present the reality of three-dimensional surface morphology maps, and achieve effective access to forestry data information goals.

2.5 for forestry planting

The UAV remote sensing image technology can carefully and comprehensively classify the forestry resources in Zhejiang Province, and help to obtain first-hand detailed data of forestry planting area, growth, rotation, etc. Methods, forestry fertilization, simultaneous monitoring of forestry planting area, and a reasonable division of forestry industry structure have important guiding value. The development of forestry based on drones can achieve the goal of high efficiency and low cost, and is of great value for promoting the large-scale production of Zhejiang forestry economy. At present, large, medium and small drones have been widely used in forestry production practices, and different types of drones are responsible for different production tasks.

3.1 main advantages

UAV has a wide application space in the forestry field and can undertake a variety of specific application tasks. 3S technology, remote sensing technology, digital image technology and real-time transmission technology based on UAV platform can meet the practical needs of forestry production and scientific research. It can help improve the speed, effectiveness and innovation of forestry management, and improve the speed and quality of forestry problem processing based on faster grasp of first-hand data information. Especially in the current development of various load drones, the restrictions are getting smaller and smaller, which can meet the operational needs of complex mountainous conditions in Zhejiang Province, help to reduce the fatigue of human resources, and play The value of hazardous forestry missions. Based on various mission requirements, the UAV can be flexibly configured to form a diversified UAV application system that performs tasks, thereby achieving the goal of utilizing the advantages of the UAV. It can also obtain a large amount of accurate data information, and can transmit data based on 4G terminals, thereby improving the real-time performance of data transmission and meeting the specific needs of the application.

3.2 main issues

Zhejiang Province is a mountainous province. The coverage of forest resources is wide, the terrain is complex and changeable, and the terrain is fluctuating. Therefore, it affects the detailed indicators of data transmission by drones to a certain extent. Especially in the current situation of increasing the details of forestry data information, there is a certain risk that the drone will perform the aerial survey task. China still lacks professional operation of drone technicians. The existing personnel use the technology of drones without mastering complex terrain, which reduces the performance of drones in actual work. Although the ability of UAVs to adapt to the environment is strong, it is necessary to develop large, medium and small types of UAVs. At present, there are many small UAVs in the grassroots forestry departments, and there are fewer medium and large UAVs. There are fewer unmanned helicopters, and the existing drones sometimes do not meet the actual needs of Zhejiang forestry. Moreover, there is still a problem that the cost of applying the drone is high, and the operation and maintenance of the drone are not timely, which greatly affects the service life of the drone and hinders the expansion of the application field of the drone.

4.1 Development of quality drones

The UAVs currently used in the forestry field in Zhejiang Province are mainly small UAVs, and the application of large UAVs is relatively small. The cost of applying UAVs to forest fire fighting and spraying pesticides is relatively high. In order to better meet the application needs in the forestry field, it is also necessary to establish a research and development team for drones based on forestry work. The forestry department and the drone companies will cooperate to effectively develop the requirements for forestry, which can be used for surveying, meteorology and remote sensing. Large and medium-sized drone equipment with mechanical operations. Especially with the development of complex forestry projects, the current UAV industry needs to carry equipment, so as to contribute to the needs of mountain forestry construction and meet the needs of Zhejiang's forestry economic development.

4.2 Establish a data resource library

At present, drones have been widely used in vegetation pollution monitoring, pest and disease monitoring, and a wide range of forestry data and information resources can be collected based on drones. Establishing a typical plant data resource base based on drones is of great value to the development of forestry environment. Therefore, it is necessary to further develop the application value of the UAV from the current situation of Zhejiang's forestry development and construction, pay attention to the water quality monitoring work in the forestry area through drones, collect data information such as non-point source pollution and bird migration, and build high quality. The database system achieves the goal of continuously enriching forestry data resources based on drones. With the increasing use of drones and the continuous improvement of real-time transmission systems, it is necessary to develop a professional UAV database system to effectively summarize the forestry information collected by UAVs.

4.3 Improve the applicability of the application

UAVs have important value for forestry construction. In order to better play the practical role of drones, we must strengthen the management of the use of drones, effectively improve the scientific and norm of UAV applications, and ensure the use of drones. Practical features. First of all, strengthen the exchange of UAV application technology, better promote the UAV technology, and meet the actual needs of the grassroots UAV application. Secondly, strengthen the training of UAV application technicians, promote the UAV application technicians to master advanced UAV application methods, and effectively exert the practical application value of UAVs. For example, in October 2018, Longquan Forestry Bureau invited Wenzhou Huifei Company to conduct more than 60 trainings for drone aerial photography training, and purchased more than 30 drones. Greatly reduce the work intensity of field workers in the field. Third, it is necessary to reduce the application cost of drones, focus on improving the rationality and standardization of drone maintenance work, increase the application management of drones, and effectively prevent the occurrence of UAV application accidents.

UAVs have broad application value in Zhejiang forestry production, planning, research, and reduction of forestry risks. Although UAVs are subject to subjective and objective conditions in the forestry field, they should see the practical application value of drones. Focus on the development of multi-type forestry UAVs, combine UAVs with specific tasks, and effectively realize the value of UAVs in innovative applications.

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syndranker1 · 5 years ago

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LF-30 Electrified Concept

In its continued efforts to deliver innovative and amazing experiences, Lexus unveiled its “Lexus Electrified” vision for an upcoming generation of electrified vehicles. Headlining this moment was the debut of the Lexus LF-30 Electrified Concept, which made its world premiere at the 46th Tokyo Motor Show 2019.

Since the brand’s creation in 1989, Lexus has endeavored to deliver to its customers innovative and amazing product and brand experiences that stimulate the five senses. Since the launch of the RX 400h in 2005, Lexus has led the world as a pioneer in electrification technologies such as the two-stage reduction gear and the multi-stage hybrid system which leverage technology to offer excellent performance and the direct driving sensation characteristic of Lexus Hybrid vehicles.

The “Lexus Electrified” vision unveiled today targets a fundamental leap in vehicle performance, handling, control and driver enjoyment — even as mobility within our society continues to change with autonomous driving and vehicle electrification.

Evoking the original fun of driving, Lexus is developing new advanced posture control and other electrification technologies to further evolve driving pleasure, and to fundamentally transform the essence of luxury vehicles of the future. Towards this end, Lexus is drawing on the lessons learned developing the core technologies found in Lexus’ popular range of gasoline-electric hybrids, including battery management, power control modules, and electric motors. In particular, the technology of Lexus Electrified enables integrated control of powertrain, steering, suspension, and brakes, realizing the ultimate potential of the motor control technology cultivated in HV. With this technology, we can control the driving force to provide ideal vehicle posture according to each driving situation. Lexus endeavors to continue providing enjoyable and safer driving vehicles.

To advance this goal, Lexus plans to unveil its first BEV in November 2019 –broadening its response to the needs of various regions around the world, including the development of HEVs, PHEVs, BEVs, and FCEVs. Moving forward after that, Lexus plans to expand its electrified vehicle lineup – launching its first PHEV and a new dedicated BEV platform early in the coming decade. By 2025, Lexus will have available electrified versions of all Lexus vehicle models, and we are aiming for the sales of electrified vehicle models to outpace those of conventional internal combustion engine vehicle models.

Lexus LF-30 Electrified highlights

The LF-30 Electrified concept vehicle embodies the “Lexus Electrified” vision. For its exterior styling the advanced image expected of a BEV has been channeled into artistic qualities that result in a futuristic form, and an interior that assertively weaves in autonomous driving and other new technologies aims to manifest Lexus’ distinctive worldview. Performance is rooted in Lexus Electrified components, adding Lexus’ latest technology to its leadership in development of HEV systems. Precise electric motor control enables instantaneous adjustments to posture not possible with conventional vehicles. Furthermore, the LF-30 Electrified employs numerous advanced technologies with a look ahead to the year 2030- such as a new-concept cockpit based on a human-centered design philosophy and a steer-by-wire system.

Read More: Innovating Japan’s Ageing Agriculture

In taking up the challenge of expressing a new design that could only be achieved with a BEV powered by in-wheel electric motors, Lexus visually articulated the LF-30 Electrified’s unique energy flow. The vehicle form is meant to visually express the energy created by the wheels set at the corners of the vehicle body streaming toward the vehicle cabin and past the driver to directly flow onto the road surface.

Taking advantage of a hoodless vehicle shape made possible by being a BEV, Lexus’ signature “spindle” form has been further evolved to span the entire vehicle architecture. The window glass, which continually stretches from the front to rear, the muscular fenders, and the wing-shaped headlights form the contours of the Lexus iconic spindle. The shape of the body is fashioned with an elegantly flowing front which transitions into a linear and sharp rear. In addition to the wing-shaped headlights, the sharpness of the rear lights and side air intakes combine to achieve both excellent aerodynamics and cooling performance, resulting in styling fused with function.

The opacity of the side windows can be freely adjusted, providing occupants with expansive views of the surrounding scenery and a high level of privacy at night and in other situations. The color of the front face of the vehicle and luminescence patterns help identify from the outside whether the vehicle is being operated in its normal mode or in its autonomous driving mode, reflecting Lexus’ pursuit of both a high level of styling and functionality. The exterior color ‘voltaic sky’ employs a leading-edge metal-infused coating to achieve a unique quality tinted by a touch of blue-green.

To manifest in a higher dimension Lexus’ fundamental human-centered philosophy, the cockpit was designed based on the new Lexus concept of “Tazuna.” Inspired by how a single rein can be used to achieve mutual understanding between horse and rider, the steering controller-mounted switches and head-up display have been coordinated to a high degree, creating a space that enables the driver to focus on driving while controlling various functions, such as the navigation and audio system and driving-mode selection, without having to shift one’s vision or operate manual switches. As an indication of the future image of a Tazuna cockpit, the LF-30 Electrified employs next-generation interfaces, such as gesture control and enhanced presentation of vehicle information through AR (augmented reality). The resulting interior is one that provides comfort and convenience for both driver and passengers.

With the layout of the front passenger seat echoing that of a first-class seat on an airliner, the interior is one in which a sense of openness and a sense of envelopment coexist. All switches and other controls being comfortably within reach and a gesture-control large-screen display for the passenger seat add to the achievement of interior comfort and convenience.

The rear seats use artificial muscle technology to mold to their occupant, and can support various modes such as reclining, relaxation, and alert functions. A Mark Levinson® audio system creates a next-generation listening environment, in which minute speaker control establishes ideal acoustic spaces for music listening pleasure for the driver and each passenger, and speakers built into the headrests not only provide an optimal audio environment but also have a noise-cancelling feature that contributes to enhanced quietness.