#we had a transfer student who came to our school after surviving a shooting at their previous school

[wormsdyke]

Damn u rlly got detention for not wanting ur school to get shot up

we really did it was bonkers. the protest was planned in advance and the school knew about it so teachers would gently remind us we would get in trouble if we walked out but very few actually discouraged it because, you know, they also didn’t like the idea of getting shot up. the whole thing went pretty well, the local news came to cover it, several students gave speeches, the names of some students and teachers who had recently died in school shootings were read off before a moment of silence, plans were made for further protests and walk outs on a larger scale that went successfully over the next few months. eventually our school principal came out and announced his support and also assured that no students would face disciplinary action for protesting. and then a bunch of us received disciplinary action for protesting. importantly though, not all of us did, seemingly an indiscriminately chosen group of attendees were apathetically punished and no further action, positive or negative, was ever taken. despite being a relatively small scale movement it was probably the biggest movement against gun violence (or for that matter anything remotely leftist) the whole region had seen, being in the red south. which isn’t directly related but does make it sting a little more that the only response was a few lunch detentions that didn’t stick on my permanent record.

[stories-me]

Potential Character for Mrs. Kelsey and Tumblr 10/4/2023:

Jacob “Jake” Talbot, Werewolf and New Student at Cemeterra High:

What he’s from: Cemeterra High.

Background:

Jake was an ordinary teenage human who was starting his freshman year at high school, living at home with his parents, Lawrence and Gwen, and his bratty twin sisters, Mary and Shelley. Jake always felt like he never fit in in his family. His sisters were just spiteful snobs who were child models for tween magazine, and his parents, though they loved him very much, Jake felt like they favored his sisters over him. At school, because of his geeky interests, Jake started out as a bit of an introvert. One autumn night, against his parents' wishes, Jake goes to a party instead of attending one of his sisters’ shoots, to be with this girl he had a crush on at the time, only to find that it was a cruel prank. Returning home, defeated, Jake got into a major argument with his parents, stating how he always feels like a freak, and that he never fits in anywhere. Jake storms outside and takes a walk to clear his head. Unfortunately, there was a full moon that night. When Jake came home, his arm was bleeding, and he claims he was bitten by a really big “dog”. Then after getting exposed to the light of the moonlight, Jake slowly started turning into a real live WEREWOLF!!!

Now stuck in this new monster form, soon after, Jake receives a mysterious letter announcing his transfer to Cemeterra High, a creepy school, in a monster-dominated land called “Cemeterra”. But since monsters have a very medieval attitude toward humans, Jake had enough sense not to mention he used to be human. The terrified boy was having a very difficult time fitting in, and was desperate to find a cure for his werewolf curse to return to his old life, until a kindly group of teenage monsters took him in and befriended him. With their help, Jake learns to survive the trials and tribulations of being a teenaged monster, and in doing so, he begins to change his outlook on the monster world, as well as his own life, and even ends up catching the eye of a popular vampire girl…

How he is like me:

We’re both clever, intelligent, cautious, kind, friendly, mischievous, a little sarcastic, protective, easily frustrated at times, and somewhat nerdy. Also, we like our friends. Granted, it’s sometimes hard to deal with various aspects of my personality (i.e. being easily frustrated, sometimes), and it’s not always the right time to be sarcastic or mischievous. And sometimes I need help dealing with frustration.

Kelsey Notes:

Freshman year in high school can be difficult because you start school in a new environment, you start to care more about what people think about you, and immaturity leads to mean bullies

As adults starting out in a new environment you are just finding out how your personality fits in with those around you.   

In addition to fitting in at school, he as to adapt to becoming a werewolf and has to navigate what comes with that territory

Becoming a werewolf ended up being a “blessing in disguise”- he found an environment that suited him and was surrounded by others that were more like him and having to deal with similar magical situations. 

Everyone is self conscious and as we get older, we learn to embrace our weaknesses and accept that, like everyone, we have faults that can make it more difficult to get along with others. 

Learning to become more self aware of the things you struggle with can help you recognize when you might be more prone to lash out at others. 

            Preventative strategies can be useful for this- if we know we’re having a bad day and more likely to lash out- we can communicate our emotions and difficulties in the moment with our support systems

Rather than feel upset with ourselves that we’ve lashed out at others, we can feel proud that we advocated for help on hard days

[inarizakibabe]

Beginning

After weeks of testing and studying hard you finally made it into class four. Now time to make friends with your classmates and shoot up the ranks into popularity. Swallowing your nervousness you approached a group of people to introduce yourself.

"Good morning. I'm (l/n)(f/n) it's nice to meet you all." you gave them the biggest smile you could muster.

The group acknowledged your presence then continued their previous conversation ignoring you. After a few minutes you decided they'd be a lost cause and moved onto a different group. After successfully managing to make no friends you cut your losses and took a seat.

"Well that went well." a voice beside you said.

"Oh shut up. I don't see you trying to make friends." you replied irritated.

"Nah too much work. I have a team full of people to tolerate already."

"Wait why are you even here?" you asked the boy beside you.

"Rude. This is my class if you must know." he said annoyed.

"Hold on. You? Suna Rintaro? Class four? Is the world ending?" you asked apprehensively.

Suna grunted and ignored you. Slowly a smirk formed on your face, "Your mom threatened to come see you again didn't she?"

"You're in my business princess. Don't do that." Suna booped your nose.

You stuck your tongue out at him right as the teacher walked in to start homeroom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Half the day and three periods later it was that weird period right before lunch and Suna's attention span couldn't keep up any longer. At this point you were taking notes for Suna to steal later when he could be bothered to write them down. The clock on the wall showed there were five minutes left until lunch so you decided to zone out.

Your thoughts ranged from getting homework on the first day of school to what you might be having for dinner tonight. Eventually they strayed to the boy napping beside you. You two had been friends for a long time. You met your second year of elementary school when Suna thought it would be funny to see how hard he could tug on your pigtail. After filling his shoes with sand you two became inseparable. Years later in your last year of junior high Suna was scouted by the coach of the Inarizaki High volleyball boys club in Hyogo. It was a great opportunity for him but it meant you guys would be separated. Unfortunately the club you joined didn't have a way for you to be recruited and even though your grades were good they weren't good enough for your parents to pack up and move all the way to Hyogo.

For your entire last year of junior high you mentally prepared to say goodbye to Suna until your mom's job decided to transfer her to Hyogo. Eventually your family moved to Hyogo, with a promise to the Sunas to take care of their eldest son, and thus your high school story began only it's not going the way you hoped. Suna was still your only friend and it seemed all your classmates knew each other since junior high leaving no room for you to shoot through the ranks. The bell rang interrupting your thoughts and your teacher dismissed your class to lunch.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After a boring lunch period your next class felt like it dragged on. So far your dream to take over high school seemed more and more impossible to achieve. Maybe if you joined the right club some magic might just happen. The big question now was which club would you join. You were a woman of many talents but none great enough to make you the star of a club. Cooking club would give you the chance to perfect your recipes but cooking wasn't something you enjoyed to do. Maybe one of the sports clubs? Definitely not. Was there anything else to do?

Before long the school day ended and it was time to either head to your club's first meeting or go home. You turned to ask Suna if he wanted to stop at the convenience store before going home until you saw him loosening his tie. Right the volleyball club had its first meeting today so you'd have to go home alone today.

"Don't look so disappointed. I'll save all my homework for you to do." Suna said looking at you.

"Whatever Rintaro! What do I have to be disappointed about?!" you huffed and picked up your bag to leave.

"Don't get lost on the way home." Suna chuckled and watched you leave before leaving for the gym.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Stupid Rin. I got lost one time. And what the hell would I be disappointed about? If anything he should be disappointed he won't have company to walk home with later today. I should go to bed before he gets home too." You grumbled while trying to find the school's gate. "Maybe it's in the other direction. Man this school is huge."

Up ahead you saw a guy with brown hair going in the opposite direction. Maybe he knows the way out of this school.

"Excuse me? Do you know which way the gate is?"

The boy stopped and at looked at you funny. "Keep going straight and you'll see it."

"Thank you." you bowed and continued going in the direction he told you. After taking ten steps you stopped and gaped at who was in front of you. The exact same guy was walking towards you again. You looked behind you quickly but the guy from before had disappeared already. Was it a daydream or did you finally lose it?

"Something wrong?" The guy stopped in front of you. "Are you lost or something?"

"I'm sorry but didn't you just tell me how to find the gate less than a minute ago?" you asked.

The guy in front of you looked confused until a look of understanding crossed his face. "I doubt it was me but keep going straight and you'll find the gate."

You thanked the guy once again at least you think it's the second time and finally made it to the gate to leave for the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The next day in class you remembered the run in you had after school the previous day and turned to ask Suna about it.

"Hey Rin this may sound crazy but I got directions from the guy twice yesterday."

Suna pouted trying to figure out what you were talking about. "You asked the guy to repeat himself?"

"No he helped me then I walked away and all of a sudden he was in front of me again and gave me directions again." you explained.

"So he chased you? Wow the year just began and you already got a guy to fall for you. Nice work (y/n)-chan. What do you plan to do with this new found information?" Suna asked with amusement in his voice.

"You are the worst human to walk this planet I swear. I'm serious. Maybe I accidentally walked in on someone's prank or something. I hope it wasn't recorded." you huffed.

Suna shrugged and checked his phone for new notifications, "Who knows. Maybe that was your ticket to popularity you were looking for. Did you pick a club yet or are you gonna let our homeroom teacher do that?"

"I don't wanna think about clubs right now. I can't think of one I wanna join. Help me find one. Please?" you put on your best puppy eyes and begged. Maybe for once he'll take mercy on you.

"Why should I? Just join the music club. You did it in Jr. high. I'm sure you can survive three more years." Suna said not looking at you.

"I would prefer if I didn't have to go through all of that again. I expected music club to be about music not how much spit I could clean out of a tuba." you shuddered remembering the unspeakable things you went through in music club.

"Don't do this to me (n/n). The stories were the highlight of my day. You gotta do it again for the fate of mankind." Suna gave you the saddest look he could produce before he laughed at how ridiculous he thought he looked. "Anime joke. I don't know what to tell you princess. I haven't picked a club since we left elementary. Why don't you see if one of the sports clubs needs a manager."

"Rin you're a genius! Does the volleyball club need a manger? I promise I won't screw up."

Suna stared at you with a deadpan expression and sighed. "Remember when I went to visit family one summer break and asked you to watch Bubbles? I came back and we all attended a fishy funeral that same day. Or when I asked you to pick up Asami because I couldn't and I came home to my parents yelling at me because she called them crying cause nii-san forgot her? I could go on but I think you get the picture. I don't trust your promises anymore."

"Yeah but Bubbles was a special case. Who knew he'd eat until he burst if I put all the food in the tank? He was suppose to eat it little by little. And I apologized to you and your that entire year and you guys forgave me. Bottom line is I was young and dumb, now I'm a high school student and I've learned a lot in my fifteen years of life. Just talk to the coach and see what he says. I could probably really help you guys."

Suna sighed for the umpteenth time and ran a hand through his bangs. "It's not really the coaches I'm worried about. I met some of our upperclassmen and some of the third years are kinda intense."

You frowned at his tone and tried to think of what they could've done to him. "i'm sure they're not as bad as you're making them sound. Maybe you need to look at them from a different angle."

"I doubt it. There were two first years that made me question my sanity. If they weren't fighting they played really well together. There was one other first year that could already do jump serves. The entire team is pretty good. Looks like it's gonna be an interesting year for volleyball. I hope I get to play in some official matches." As the last sentence left his lips Suna's eyes widened and he turned to look at you so quickly you almost thought he'd get whiplash. "You didn't hear that."

"Oh that's what the problem is. I'm sure you'll get to play in some matches and if you don't then there's no way the team is going to nationals." you smiled at him.

Before Suna could respond the bell rang signaling lunch was finished.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*

At the end of the day you followed Suna to the gym.

"Remember it's not a guarantee. We don't have a manager and Coach Oomi does what you would do." Suna reminded you when you were almost at the gym. "Talk to coach Kurosu he's the head coach and old enough to be our father so if you ware him down enough you might just get the position."

"Alright. I can definitely do this." You sounded more confident than you felt but there was no turning back now.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hello sorry it took so long for this part to be uploaded but it's here now. Hopefully you enjoyed this and the next chapter comes out sooner than this one did. Until then don't hesitate to let me know what you think or if you just wanna say hi I don't bite I promise.

[tired-college-student-writing]

The Painter’s Daughter Ch 4

Summary: Marinette is the daughter of two bakers

Marinette is a happy sometimes naive girl

Marinette is loved to create and make more than they liked to destroy

or was she?

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (HERE)

Chapter 5

_________________________________________

“You’re both coming with me,” Helen spoke the second Adrian reappeared from the bathroom, wrapped in Marinette’s oversized pink polka-dotted bathrobe.  The blond looked surprised and suspicious.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Helen continued, “I’m not going to hurt you. I can’t in what little good conscience I have left let anyone become a creep if I can help it, let alone my daughter and her superhero partner.”

“Creep?” Adrian raised his brow at this, edging away slightly.

Helen just rolled his eyes and allowed his glamor to fall, leaving a teenage boy who could have been Marinette’s twin standing where the once lanky man had. He cracked a smile as the boy jumped.

“It’s short for Creepypasta,” He explained, “You’ve probably found our stories before, stories of Jeff the Killer, of Laughing Jack, of Smile Dog, of Slenderman, and thought we were just that, stories. The reality of the situation is Kwamis and Miraculous aren’t the only magic in the world, there’s a much darker side to the unexplainable out there. I and, by extension, Marinette are part of this world. ”

Adrian’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, but even so, a new emotion was flickering in his eye. Most of the time creeps see fear or anger in the eyes of those that discover them, but Adrian has been in such deep broken fear and hurt anger for too long. In his eyes, the father and daughter saw curiosity slowly trickle in.

Marinette smiled softly, “It’s okay Kitty, you’re still safe. Dad’s not going to hurt you.”

Helen snorted, “Even the stupidest creeps have a code. You’re the last person we’d want dead even if you didn’t have a tiny little god of destruction in your pocket. Especially since Marinette likes you so much.”

“Damn straight,” Plagg huffed, tail lashing as if daring the creature to do anything.

“My dad is what’s known as a Proxy,” Marinette explained, “A worker of sorts for a more powerful entity. In his case, he’s a proxy of the Operator, or as you most likely know him, Slenderman. I was conceived after he was made so I fall under the creeps domain as well even though I’m not a creep and will never be a creep unless I commit a murder worthy of my own creepypasta.”

“So all creepypastas are real, and you’re the daughter of,” Adrian’s eyes darted across Helen’s form landing on his pin and the mask attached to his belt, “The Bloody Painter?”

“Ha, you ARE a fan,” Helen snorted.

“And he wants us to come with him because why?”

Plagg winced, floating up to headbutt his user in the cheek, “Kid… he’s worried you’ll become like him. Your sanity is in such a fragile state… it’s worrisome even if you weren’t fighting Hawkmoth. You need to get away from your dad, from Paris and you certainly need to get away from that abusive rapist bitch that broke you before one of us, at best gets akumatized, or worst does something drastic that we can’t take back.”

Adrian cupped the small cat by his face, a single tear running down his cheek as he looked to see the deep understanding of the pair in front of him.  

“Okay,” He said in a soft voice that was barely a breath, “But if we really leave then Paris will be undefended, and won’t people put it together when we leave at the same time as the heroes stop showing up? Can we really leave Paris unde-”

“I have a plan,” Marinette cut in, “but it’s going to take a bit to get into place.”

Helen rolled his shoulders, shifting back into his adult form, “Adrian eat. Let's get some bags packed and put this plan into action.”

_________________________________________

The morning saw Ladybug and Chat Noir swinging through the city with smiles, laughing and greeting the citizens with cheer. When asked why they were out so early they let pain and uncertainty flicker across their faces for a split second, before the smiles were back and they gave some lame excuses about needing a break from their everyday life.

Paris felt a twinge that something wasn’t right that the city couldn’t shake.

When school started Ms. Bustier’s class was surprised and worried to see their principal in their classroom. Adrian was still missing as far as they were aware, they really hoped nothing happened to him.

“Students,” Damocles started once the bell had rung, “Before school today, The Dupain-Chengs came in and informed me that Marinette was being pulled for the rest of the year and moved to homeschooling.”

“What!” Alya yelled, the room breaking into a frenzy.

“SILENCE!” Mr. Damocles barked and patiently waited until the room froze, “Now before any rumors start, they wished for you all to know that Marinette’s birth father had been in a terrible accident and she was on the first plane they could find last night to the United States to be with him as they were not sure if he’d survive very long. She will remain in the US until he is better or until his affairs are put in order. I hope you all do your best to understand and be supportive of her if she reaches out.”

The teacher and principal exit the room soon after with remarks about needing to get the proper paperwork in order for the transfer leaving a shocked classroom.

“Mr. Dupain isn’t her dad?” Alya whispered in shock only for Nino to shrug.

“Well, yeah, Kim and I were invited to the wedding and Marinette told us when she was changing her name. Her dad is some artist from the states, Sabine didn’t give out too many details but it wasn’t hard to put together Mari was a one night stand baby. Her dad was pretty cool though. I hope he’s okay.”

Kim nodded when the class turned to look at him, “ Yeah we met him when he came for her tenth birthday, gave her some really awesome fabric she ended up making into a dress she wore to the school banquet. Apparently, his job is pretty sporadic so he’s not able to visit regularly, but you can tell he really loves Marinette and treated all of us pretty well.”

Chloe snorted, “Speak for yourselves, He gave me the creeps with his stare when I tried to say something to Marinette, made some weird comment about how I’d make a lovely medium for art one day.”

Nathanial gave her a quizzical look, “You mean muse?”

“No? I’m pretty sure I’d remember the ridiculous statement the man-made to me. He definitely said medium.”

“But,” Nathanial muttered, “That makes no sense. A medium is the materials used for an art piece, not the subject of the piece. How could he make you his medium?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

Nino’s phone buzzed and he paled looking down, “Uh dudes, Adrian just posted on his insta, like his model insta.”

The pictures on the post were vaguely graphic, nail marks and bruises littering pale skin in sickly colors. Nothing below the belt but they could see how the bruises fell they extended further then he was showing.  

I’m sorry I ran, but I couldn’t handle the sexual abuse anymore. A fellow model, my father’s muse no less, decided I was hers and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’s lied and lied so much even my friends from school are convinced we’re a couple but I just want to be able to live my life without the fear of her touching me and spinning tales of how no one will believe me if I spoke out, how she’ll tell the world I raped her if I did. I still feel so dirty after she slipped something into my drink. It didn’t even knock me out, simply made it so I couldn’t move. I’m done. I’m sorry but I’m done.

None of the class could stop the bile from rising in their throats as their eyes flash to Lila who was slowly turning pruce.

_________________________________________

The weekend arrived, with only two Akuma attacks since Marinette left for America, Ladybug and Chat Noir taking care of it swiftly and near silently, their normal banter sporadic at best the first time, almost melancholy the second.

Paris had noticed and was nearing panic. What was wrong with their heroes?

Two siblings found out, as the clock clicked closer to Saturday.

The Couffaine siblings were hanging out on their beds, idly playing music together, already in their PJs. Their mother was out for the night, invited to drinks with Jagged to reconnect after all these years. So when they heard thumps on the deck above they froze.

The fear only reduced slightly as the familiar faces of the city’s heroes appeared from the top of the stairs, though the panic shifted to a different source. Luka shoots worried glances at his sister. How would she react to him being a hero?

“Ladybug, Chat Noir,” He greeted, “What’s wrong? An Akuma?”

“Not right now,” Ladybug responded, face serious but ever so kind, “But we have a large favor to ask both of you.”  

“You know I’m always willing to help,” He answered without hesitation and saw his usually timid sister nod in agreement.

“I’ll do everything I can.”

Chat Noir gave a ghost of his usually cheeky grin, “Can you keep a secret?”

Before either sibling got to ask what he meant the pair was engulfed in bright light. When it faded Marinette and Adrian stood in front of the pair.

“Luka Couffaine,” Marinette said, holding out the box with a broken smile, “This is the miraculous of the Snake.”

“Juleka Couffaine,” Adrian continued, holding out an identical box, “This is the miraculous of the Mouse.”

“We’re entrusting you to use these miraculous to keep Paris safe in our steed,” They replied in unison to the frozen siblings, “Do you accept?”

“What?” Juleka squeaked, “You two…”

Luka took the box with a stony look, “What do you mean in your steed?”

Adrian’s face fell, “Chat Noir and Ladybug are leaving Paris for a while. I’m sure you know why I need to leave, but Mari offered me an escape and needs a break as well.”

Marinette’s steely look silenced any protests, “We’ve been failed too many times. It’s breaking us, if we don’t leave soon we're going to end up akumatized ourselves or worse. We’re entrusting you two with the truth, and with being the main protectors of Paris while we’re gone.”

“We’re handing over an official video tomorrow morning explaining our leave of Absence to Nadja to play during the news cycles, probably all of them,” Adrian said with a hollow laugh, “

“But what about the other miraculous?” Luka asked, “We’re not going to be Ladybug and Chat Noir, and even you need help sometimes. What do we do if we need help?”  

“The Fox is with a male user named Badulf and the monkey with King Monkey. My mama currently has the miraculous box, so if you need to get the Bee to Hachimitsu or the dragon to Kaida she’ll have them,” Marinette continued, “If you need another miraculous I trust you to make the choice of who to give it to with a view exceptions. We don’t need another Aspik incident.”

“In my defense,” Adrian counter, “I have a hard time saying no to anyone, let alone my best friend who was trusting me with a very important task.”  

“Okay,” Juleka let out a shaky sigh, “You need to start from the beginning.”

And so they did. They told the pair about getting their miraculous, about the allies they had taken throughout the years, the ones they didn’t trust anymore, the ones that had hurt them too many times. They told them about how life outside the mask had grown harder and harder and trying not to be akumatized was growing near impossible. They listed the spells and charms they had created to allow the pair to contain the akumas since Ladybug would be gone.

Luka and Juleka held their hands, anger, fury, and sympathy rolling off of them. By the end, Marinette worried they would deal with another akumaztion but Juleka elbowed him with a scowl and he took several deep breaths to calm down.

“Okay,” He said finally, “We’ll take care of the city. You two get better okay,”

“Don’t worry,” Marinette said with a soft smile, “You’re going to stay with my dad. He’s going to make sure we don’t snap under all of the pressure.”

“Take this,” She handed over a notecard with a pair of emails on it, “If something like Syren or Stormy Weather shows up again so I can use Miraculous Ladybug. We believe in you.”

As quickly as they had arrived the heroes had left, leaving the siblings to get to know their kwamis and prepare for the news that would break in only a few short hours on how the safety of the city was now on their shoulders.

“Everything done?” Helen asked once the heroes landed in Bois de Boulogne. Once they nodded he tossed them their backpacks and turned to the tree he already carved the Operator symbol into, opening the portal to the Slender Forest.

“Let’s make this quick,” Helen groaned, “Slender isn’t going to be happy I waited this long to get in touch with him.”

“Do you think now is a good time to give Slender the new tie I made him?”

_________________________________________

Taglist: @crazylittlemunchkin @sassakitty @marinettepotterandplagg

[l-a-scarlett]

☆What We Had

° • ☆ 6 ☆ • °

° • ♡ 7 ♡ • °

Nobody expect you to be there.

After all you seems to disappear without trace after graduation, they did try to find you, but after the first year of not finding anything, they decided to stop. But not him of course, never once did he stop even...

"Ah crap. Am I late?"

It took them minutes to understand what was happening. And when they did, Shinso Hitoshi was the first one to react, he was your classmate after all during your first year before he was transferred on the Hero department by the time of your second year.

"(Yo- Your name)!"

You give him an awkward smile.

"Sorry, did I stutter you all?"

You said,

Of course you expected this kind of reaction, you're gone for so long then decided to show up yourself like you didn't disappear or something?  

"(Your name)-chan!"

Just like that you almost stumble on the ground as Uraraka cling into you.

Out of all the Hero course student beside Shinso, Uraraka was the one you're close with.

"I can't believe it! Its been years since you showed up! The last time we saw you was on our graduation!"

She chirp at you, still holding your arm.

"Oh well... It was a long story"

You chuckle nervously as she pull you towards her fellow classmates, your good old friends. 

"So its true"

Iida said as soon as he saw you, you wave at him.

"How are you (Your name)?"

You all sit down at the round table,

"Oh well. I'm a police officer now, expert field in interrogation"

You said, pushing some (hair color) locks behind your ear.

"Wow, you really did take a usage of your quirk (Your name)" 

Now that was Midoriya, for a moment. You almost burst out how your daughter has been wanting an autograph since she forgot to asked one during their field trip, but then you realize.

None of them know,

No one was supposed to anyway.

"So.... Tell us (Your name)"

Now you realize you've been surrounded by the former Class A students, your good old friends because of him.

But he's missing, and so does she.

"How your love life going?!"

Kiminari, asked. His eyes shining with excitement and curiosity.

You laugh at his question,

"I'm too busy to have one at the moment! Kiminari-san"

You said with a grin.

"Oh! Here are they!"

You knew what they're talking about

"Wow, they do look perfect for each other!"

"I know right?! I heard they hooked up as soon as they become pro!"

You came prepared here, after all. You came from the same school, of course you'll see them here.

"Yeah! And I heard they're getting married in two weeks!"

"Talking about lucky!"

You didn't look at them, not like you cared anyways, you've seen more than in news and social already.

"(Your na--)"

"If you're about to asked me if I'm fine"

You took a sip of the champagne in front of you, looking at your old friends.

"I'm fine, It's been years. I supposed everybody has moved on from it"

Yeah, tell that to yourself dumbass.

Then you saw Mina smiled at you,

"Gah! I thought you haven't moved on, thank God I was wrong!"

Now that was a bold statement of her.

"Oi Mina! Watch your mouth!"

Warned my Iida

"But its true, if it aren't for our (Your name) here interfering from there high school romance during our first year, Momo and Todoroki-kun should be dating from the beginning" 

She pout, making your eyes twitch, fake smile still painted on your lips.

"Mina!"

Iida raise from his seat, 

Your eyes focused on the walking couple heading towards your group, arm linked with each other. And looks like none of them have seen you yet.

"I mean! No hard feelings (Your name)"

You tear your eye away from the couple and look at the pink alien like creature in front of you.

"But you have to admit it, Todokori was better off with Momo rather than you"

You laugh, laugh that sends chill down their spine,

"Yeah, yeah"

You said as soon as your laughing died down.

"They're perfect for each other"

You added, another fake smiled followed after that.

Ah fuck this Alumni homecoming.

You stand up from your seat,

"Got to go greet the couple"

"You-you don't have to do that!"

Protested by Iida, yet you hold up a hand.

"That's one way to prove myself I've moved on right?"

You said looking Mina dead in the eye.

Heh. Your heart won't survive by the end of this homecoming.

"Yo!"

You raise your free hand as you hold your purses tightly with one 

"(Your name)-san!"

Momo was the first one to reply, arm still holding out to Shoto as you walk towards them.

"Its nice to see you back after so many years!"

She said and removing her arms on Shoto as she gave you a quick hug.

"Yeah! I heard you two are getting married!"

You said looking at the guy beside her.

It hurts.

"Ah yes! Actually I was hoping to see you here so I could give this to you personally"

And with a blink of an eyes, she create an invitation out of her. 

You chuckled forcibly at this as you grab it from her.

"Thank you, I was actually about to be offended if I'm not invited"

What the fuck are you saying? 

You'd rather get yourself not invited. 

"Oh! Then it--"

"Momo"

You both look at the one who was causing you a heartbreak.

This is so unfair.

"Let's go greet the others"

He said, walking past you both.

Why are you the only one suffering? 

Then Momo give you an apologetic smile,

"Sorry, I don't know what suddenly come into him"

All you ever did was to love him.

"Oh! No problem, you should go and greet the others"

You said with close eyed smile, then she bow into you for the last time and did an apology before going to catch up with her Fiancee.

Why did he have to break your heart?

As soon as she turn around, you let out a deep sigh, putting your free hand on your chest, massaging it a bit.

It hurts, like literally. 

"Oi"

You look up,

"Shinso"

"You looked like you're about to cry"

He quickly replied.

"Wanna ditch this homecoming and talk about it?'

"You just hate gatherings do you?"

"Shut up"

"Yeah, yeah whatever. As much as I want to stay here"

I think that if I stay here any longer my heart can't take it.

he shoot you a look after you share your thoughts with him.

"Lets go"

° • ☆ 8 ☆ • °

[justjessame]

Put Me In Coach Chapter 24

I’d like to tell everyone that after Negan gave my my engagement ring our lives continued on the normal, sex-crazed, love fueled route we’d been on since the first time we touched.  I can’t do that and stay honest though.  

We had a good six months after he slipped my second ring on.  Six months of my mom’s ideas for our wedding.  Six months of making it difficult for our neighbors to make eye contact after a LONG weekend at home.  Six months of Eric and Steven (both had transferred to the college I was finishing at) hanging out, but not wearing out their welcome.  Six months of LONG phone conversations with Mary about her life on the west coast and how she couldn’t wait to celebrate our graduations over the coming summer.  We had six months, and I guess, looking back I should feel pretty fucking lucky that we had that.

I’d always thought we were absurdly lucky.  Hadn’t I wondered a thousand times when it would wear off, this magical pull we had for one another.  The way our eyes could meet during dinner with anyone, and both of us would find an excuse to leave the room together, or the meal entirely and then be naked and pounding together in no time flat, wasn’t sustainable.  Was it?

The first blow to our reality came right before Christmas.  Having a pair of police officers show up at your front door never signifies good news.  Having it happen with twinkle lights glowing behind them doesn’t make it easier to take the grim news they were delivering.

Mom had mentioned, offhandedly, that there had been a few break ins in the neighborhood during one of our phone calls.  She’d made it seem a nuisance rather than a fear.  She should have been afraid.  Her and Dad had been killed when they walked in on a burglar.  It had been quick, the policemen assured me, as though that made it better somehow.  

Negan wasn’t home when I found out.  He’d insisted, once we were officially engaged, that he work his second job during the school year as well as during summer.  Mom had told me he was too proud to live off of my trust fund, and with our future coming on fast he wanted to prove that we didn’t need to use it.  So he was working at the car lot, as the two uniformed officers stood on my front porch and told me that my parents were dead.  Gone forever.

The officers asked if there was someone they could call, I must have looked like I was going into shock, because I no doubt was.  I handed them my cell phone, told them to call Negan AND Eric.  Mary was coming home in a few days, but telling her now would just rush her home and I had no fucking clue what would come next.

What came next was Eric and Steven rushing to me from their apartment nearby.  Negan screeching into our driveway moments later.  And then they all tried to keep me from falling into a million pieces.

The funeral overshadowed the holidays.  While I was tempted to completely ignore Christmas and New Years’ I knew that I couldn’t.  Mom, and Dad too, wouldn’t have wanted us to stop moving forward.  That was the point of life, the living get to live it.  

It was a somber couple of months, and later, after everything went to shit fast and furious, I had to wonder if that was the catalyst or if I’d lost him long before then.

Since Negan was working a second job, I took the offer to be a TA when it was given. I won’t lie and say the sexual pull wasn’t there between us any more, it was still there.  We could still make the neighbors blush, but we weren’t as available to one another.  He had school, the teams he helped coach, and then his sales position at the dealership.  I had school, my TA position, and Eric to keep me company.  I should have seen it.  Hindsight, I suppose.

For the next few months, working my ass off to keep up my grades and earn my degree, my focus shifted from being upset that Negan and I didn’t have the time to rip one another’s clothes off as often as we once had.  I had taken my last final the night before my world truly started spinning out of control.  I felt Negan rolling out of bed, the sun shining through our curtains, and then the water turned on in our shower.  

Once upon a time, I would have joined him.  And I was actually thinking about it, but then his phone dinged on the nightstand.   I thought it might be work, they’d texted him before from the dealership when one of his customers needed to contact him, so I rolled over and smiled as the warmth of his side and the scent of him invaded my senses.  It was short lived.  And my plan to join him in the shower left with that contentment.  

Opening up his messenger, I saw a photo that turned my stomach and made me want to scream, cry, hit something, and then die, in that order.  It was Negan, MY Negan, lying on a bed with a naked redhead cuddled against him.  He was naked too, or I assumed he was since his chest was bare and his hands were curled around her waist, pressing their faces together.  Her lipstick, a vivid shade of red, was smeared and his mouth was stained with it.  There was only one word that accompanied it.  “SOON”.

I don’t know how I managed to not do any of the things my body longed to.  I don’t know how I fucking held back when he kissed me goodbye.  I don’t know why I didn’t confront him.  Why I didn’t fucking scream, and hold him accountable is still a mystery to me.

Maybe it was because of the whispers.  Hadn’t I wondered if I’d been his first student lover?  Hadn’t I heard the age old adage that “once a cheat, always a cheat”?  And hadn’t I constantly wondered just how long we had before our bubble burst?  

Five years, give or take.  That’s how long.  Five years of Negan and Amara in that wonderful love and lust filled bubble.  And now our time has run out.  

Negan called me from work later that day.  He said he’d been called by Lucille’s doctor.  She was dying, he told me, and she had asked for him.  I can admit I doubted him.  Wouldn’t any sane woman who saw the picture I’d seen have doubts?  

He asked me to pack him a bag that he’d run by to grab.  I hadn’t called anyone to tell them what I’d seen.  I was all alone in our house, a house we’d refurnished and redecorated together.  A house I thought we’d made a home.  I had a flash of vengefulness that made me want to cut holes into anything I packed for him, but I fought it.  If Negan was leaving, be it for a trip or forever, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d torn out my fucking heart and stomped on it.  I packed carefully for him.  T-shirts, jeans, underwear like I would have packed for any other trip he could have asked me to do.  

He seemed to know that there was something off with me.  Negan hugged me to him, pressing my face into his chest and telling me that he’d be back before I could miss him.  He kissed me in the same hungry and breathless way that seemed to be OUR way, but I had to wonder if he kissed HER like that too.  If he made her sound like Marilyn, or if she called him “sir” or “daddy”?

I felt the hysteria creeping in again, and felt almost relieved when he finally let me go and left.  

Watching him pull away from our house, to head back to where we’d met, I finally let go.  I screamed so loud I was surprised the neighbors didn’t call the police.  They did, however, call Eric.

“That dumb, rancid asshole-” Eric was whispering into my hair as he held me and I sobbed.  “How fucking dare he-”

Steven was behind me patting my back and whispering comfort while Eric was raging harder than me.  You’d almost think Negan cheated on him.  “Not helping,” his boyfriend snapped at my best friend.  “Mara, honey, maybe it’s not what you think-”

I snorted, and pulled back from Eric to shoot Steven a look of pure indignation.  “They were naked, Steven.  Naked and wrapped around one another, and FUCK I’m gonna be-”

I jumped up and rushed to the closest bathroom.  I made it, but only just, and then I emptied my stomach of everything I’d ever considered eating.  Retching and gagging, even empty I still felt like I had more to give.  Eric was waiting for me, once I’d flushed and then brushed my teeth and gargled.  

“Better?”  His concern was palpable, but it didn’t help.  Nothing would help.  

What’s worse than finding out the love of your life is a cheating dickhead?  The dead reanimating.  Trust me, seeing a corpse walking down the street and then biting people, that shit can out weigh even the worse fucking heartbreak.  

Luckily Mary had made it to our side just in time for us all to evacuate together.  Mary, Steven, Eric, and me off on a grand adventure.  I almost didn’t have a spare moment to think about Negan’s infidelity.  Almost.  And I’d like to say that when I packed for our mad dash to safety that I left all reminders of him behind.  I didn’t.  Eric’s framed gift along with a photo album that held pictures of my entire family came with me.  My rings, my jewelry (yes, even the spring formal set that he’d surprised me with), and while I didn’t pack the feminine dresses that everyone knew me for, I did pack the knee high boots.  

My phone never rang, not before the towers became inoperable.  No texts came.  Nothing to make me think that I was wrong about Negan having left me.  And I had to believe that he left me and was with HER safe and sound, because even with him destroying me, I couldn’t survive in a world where he was dead.  That would be a cruelty too far.

“I think I see something up ahead,” Steven said, he was driving the SUV that we’d chosen to take, having seen the horrible traffic we assumed having four wheel drive might be handy if we needed to go off road.  

I looked up from where I’d been daydreaming out the window and I knew immediately that he was right.  “Alexandria?” 

[jewish-privilege]

One of Wenzel Michalski’s early recollections of growing up in southern Germany in the 1970s was of his father, Franz, giving him some advice: “Don’t tell anyone that you’re Jewish.” Franz and his mother and his little brother had survived the Holocaust by traveling across swaths of Eastern and Central Europe to hide from the Gestapo, and after the war, his experiences back in Germany suggested that, though the Nazis had been defeated, the anti-Semitism that was intrinsic to their ideology had not. This became clear to Franz when his teachers in Berlin cast stealthily malicious glances at him when Jewish characters — such as Shylock in “The Merchant of Venice” — came up in literature. “Eh, Michalski, this exactly pertains to you,” he recalls one teacher telling him through a clenched smile. Many years later, when he worked as an animal-feed trader in Hamburg, he didn’t tell friends that he was Jewish and held his tongue when he heard them make anti-Semitic comments. And so Franz told his son Wenzel that things would go easier for him if he remained quiet about being Jewish. “The moment you say it, things will become very awkward.”

As a teenager, Wenzel defied his father’s advice and told a close friend. That friend quickly told his mother, and the next time Wenzel saw her, she reacted quite strongly, hugging him and kissing his face: “Wenzel! Oh, my Wenzel!” Now a stocky, bearded 56-year-old, Wenzel recalled the moment to me on a recent Saturday afternoon. He raised the pitch of his voice as he continued to mimic her: “You people! You are the most intelligent! The most sensitive! You are the best pianists in the world! And the best poets!” In his normal voice again, he added, “Then I understood what my father meant.”

Wenzel Michalski is now the director of Human Rights Watch for Germany. He and his wife, Gemma, an outgoing British expat, live in a cavernous apartment building in the west of Berlin. In their kitchen, Gemma told me that after arriving in Germany in 1989, she often got a strangely defensive reaction when she told people she was Jewish; they would tell her they didn’t feel responsible for the Holocaust or would defend their grandparents as not having perpetrated it. And so, to avoid conversations like these, she, too, stayed quiet about being Jewish.

Recently, the Michalskis’ youngest son became the third generation of the family to learn that telling people he is Jewish could cause problems. The boy — whose parents asked that he be called by one of his middle names, Solomon, to protect his privacy — had attended a Jewish primary school in Berlin. But he didn’t want to stay in such a homogeneous school for good, so just before he turned 14, he transferred to a public school that was representative of Germany’s new diversity — a place, as Gemma described it, where he “could have friends with names like Hassan and Ahmed.”

The first few days there seemed to go well. Solomon, an affable kid with an easy smile, bonded with one classmate over their common affection for rap music. That classmate introduced him to a German-Turkish rapper who would rap about “Allah and stuff,” Solomon told me. In return, he introduced the classmate to American and British rap. Solomon had a feeling they would end up being best friends. On the fourth day, when Solomon was in ethics class, the teachers asked the students what houses of worship they had been to. One student mentioned a mosque. Another mentioned a church. Solomon raised his hand and said he’d been to a synagogue. There was a strange silence, Solomon later recalled. One teacher asked how he had encountered a synagogue.

“I’m Jewish,” Solomon said.

“Everyone was shocked, especially the teachers,” Solomon later told me about this moment. After class, a teacher told Solomon that he was “very brave.” Solomon was perplexed. As Gemma explained: “He didn’t know that you’re not meant to tell anyone.”

The following day, Solomon brought brownies to school for his birthday. He was giving them out during lunch when the boy he had hoped would be his best friend informed him that there were a lot of Muslim students at the school who used the word “Jew” as an insult. Solomon wondered whether his friend included himself in this category, and so after school, he asked for clarification. The boy put his arm around Solomon’s shoulders and told him that, though he was a “real babo” — Kurdish slang for “boss” — they couldn’t be friends, because Jews and Muslims could not be friends. The classmate then rattled off a series of anti-Semitic comments, according to Solomon: that Jews were murderers, only interested in money.

Over the next few months, Solomon was bullied in an increasingly aggressive fashion. One day, he returned home with a large bruise from a punch on the back. On another occasion, Solomon was walking home and stopped into a bakery. When he emerged, he found one of his tormentors pointing what looked like a handgun at him. Solomon’s heart raced. The boy pulled the trigger. Click. The gun turned out to be a fake. But it gave Solomon the scare of his life.

When Solomon first told his parents about the bullying, they resolved to turn it into a teaching moment. They arranged to have Wenzel’s father visit the school to share his story about escaping the Gestapo. But the bullying worsened, Gemma told me, and they felt the school did not do nearly enough to confront the problem. The Michalskis went public with their story in 2017, sharing it with media outlets in order to spark what they viewed as a much-needed discussion about anti-Semitism in German schools. Since then, dozens of cases of anti-Semitic bullying in schools have come to light, including one case last year at the German-American school where my own son attends first grade, in which, according to local news reports, students tormented a ninth grader, for months, chanting things like “Off to Auschwitz in a freight train.” Under criticism for its handling of the case, the administration released a statement saying it regretted the school’s initial response but was taking action and having “intensive talks” with the educational staff.

...For the Michalskis, all this was evidence that German society never truly reckoned with anti-Semitism after the war. Germany had restored synagogues and built memorials to the victims of the Holocaust, Wenzel said: “So for a lot of mainstream, middle-class people, that means: ‘We’ve done it. We dealt with anti-Semitism.’ But nobody really dealt with it within the families. The big, the hard, the painful questions were never asked.” In Wenzel’s view, the Muslim students who tormented his child were acting in an environment that was already suffused with native anti-Semitism. “A lot of conservative politicians now say, ‘Oh, the Muslims are importing their anti-Semitism to our wonderful, anti-anti-Semitic culture,’ ” he said. “That’s bull. They’re trying to politicize this.”

Jewish life in Germany was never fully extinguished. After the Nazi genocide of six million Jews, some 20,000 Jewish displaced persons from Eastern Europe ended up settling permanently in West Germany, joining an unknown number of the roughly 15,000 surviving German Jews who still remained in the country after the war. The new German political class rejected, in speeches and in the law, the rabid anti-Semitism that had been foundational to Nazism — measures considered not only to be morally imperative but necessary to re-establish German legitimacy on the international stage. This change, however, did not necessarily reflect an immediate conversion in longstanding anti-Semitic attitudes on the ground. In the decades that followed, a desire among many Germans to deflect or repress guilt for the Holocaust led to a new form of antipathy toward Jews — a phenomenon that came to be known as “secondary anti-Semitism,” in which Germans resent Jews for reminding them of their guilt, reversing the victim and perpetrator roles. “It seems the Germans will never forgive us Auschwitz,” Hilde Walter, a German-Jewish journalist, was quoted as saying in 1968.

Holocaust commemoration in West Germany increasingly became an affair of the state and civic groups, giving rise to a prevailing erinnerungskultur, or “culture of remembrance,” that today is most prominently illustrated by the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, a funereal 4.7-acre site near the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin, inaugurated in 2005. But even as Germany’s remembrance culture has been held up as an international model of how to confront the horrors of the past, it has not been universally supported at home. According to a 2015 Anti-Defamation League survey, 51 percent of Germans believe that it is “probably true” that “Jews still talk too much about what happened to them in the Holocaust”; 30 percent agreed with the statement “People hate Jews because of the way Jews behave.”

...The exact nature of the anti-Semitic threat — and indeed, whether it rises to the level of an existential threat at all — is intensely debated within Germany’s Jewish community. Many see the greatest peril as coming from an emboldened extreme right that is hostile to both Muslims and Jews, as the recent shootings by white supremacists in synagogues in Pittsburgh and Poway, Calif., and mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand, horrifically illustrated. Multiple surveys suggest that anti-Muslim attitudes in Germany and other European countries are more widespread than anti-Semitism. At the same time, a number of surveys show that Muslims in Germany and other European countries are more likely to hold anti-Semitic views than the overall population. The 2015 Anti-Defamation League survey, for instance, found that 56 percent of Muslims in Germany harbored anti-Semitic attitudes, compared with 16 percent for the overall population. Conservative Jews see the political left as unwilling to name this problem out of reluctance to further marginalize an already marginalized group or because of leftist anti-Zionism. The far right, anti-Islam A.f.D. — the very political party that, for its relativizing of Nazi crimes, many Jews find most noxious — has sought to exploit these divisions and now portrays itself as a defender of Germany’s Jews against what it depicts as the Muslim threat.

...The early signs are mixed. Sigmount Königsberg is the anti-Semitism commissioner for Berlin’s Jewish Community, the organization that oversees synagogues and other aspects of local Jewish life. At a cafe next to the domed New Synagogue, which was spared destruction during the pogroms of November 1938, Königsberg, an affable 58-year-old, told me his mother had been liberated from the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp and had intended to move to Paris. Instead, she became stranded in the German border town of Saarbrücken, and she soon met Königsberg’s father, also a Holocaust survivor. Like other Jewish families, they were ambivalent about remaining in Germany. Königsberg employed an often-used metaphor to describe this unsettledness: Until the 1980s, he said, German Jews “sat on a packed suitcase.” After East and West Germany reunified, many Jews feared a nationalist revival. Despite a wave of racist attacks on immigrants, that revival did not seem to materialize. In fact, the European Union, which was created to temper those impulses, was ascendant. Jews felt more secure, Königsberg told me: “We unpacked the suitcase and stored it in the cellar.”

Now, he believed, that sense of security has eroded. People aren’t heading for the exits yet, he said, but they are starting to think, Where did I put that suitcase?

...[Felix Klein, Germany’s first federal Commissioner for Jewish Life in Germany and the Fight Against Anti-Semitism] listed several things the German government should be doing at the federal and state levels to fight anti-Semitism; chief among them was training teachers and the police simply to recognize it. He also said school books should include more lessons about Jewish contributions to Germany. “We only started to talk about Jews when the Nazi period came up in our history lesson,” he said. “We didn’t speak about Jewish life before that, and we didn’t speak about Jewish life after.”

The rise of anti-Semitic acts, Klein told me, was not just a matter of rising hate but a rising willingness to express it. This was because of social media, he said, as well as the A.f.D. and its “brutalization” of the political discourse. There are also the challenges that are caused by anti-Semitism from Muslims, he said, though, he added, according to criminal statistics, this was not the main problem...

He added that the existing statistics should not be used as a pretext “to avoid a discussion regarding anti-Semitism from Muslims.” I asked him if there was any fear that such a conversation would raise tensions between minority groups instead of protecting them. “I think there is a fear,” he said. “This is why I think the right strategy is to denounce any form of anti-Semitism, regardless of the numbers. I don’t want to start a discussion about which one is more problematic or more dangerous than the other.”

He leaned in to underscore this point. “You should not start this discussion, because then you start using one political group against the other. We should not do that.”

...Last year, two-dozen Jewish A.f.D. supporters founded a group called “Jews in the A.f.D.,” or J.A.f.D., asserting, in a “statement of principles,” that it is the only party willing to “thematize Muslim hatred of Jews without trivializing it.” In response, the Central Council of Jews in Germany and 41 other Jewish organizations released a joint statement condemning the A.f.D. as racist and anti-Semitic and warned Jews not to fall for its “apparent concern” for their safety. “We won’t allow ourselves to be instrumentalized by the A.f.D.,” the statement read. “No, the A.f.D. is a danger to Jewish life in Germany.”

On a Sunday afternoon last October, J.A.f.D. held its inaugural event in a gymnasium on the outskirts of the Hessian city of Wiesbaden. A J.A.f.D. supporter in the crowd of attendees, who wore a yarmulke and a Star of David necklace that dangled outside his shirt next to an A.f.D. pin, told me, in a strong Russian accent, that he had emigrated from Moscow in the early 1990s. As reporters gathered around him, he rattled off a series of claims often recited at far-right political gatherings: Muslim immigrants come from an “absolutely alien” culture. They would “bring Shariah law” and “rape” to Germany. When a reporter from the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung tried to get his name, the man refused to give it. He didn’t trust the lügenpresse — “the lying press” — he said, using a phrase that, long preceding “fake news,” had been deployed by propagandists in Nazi Germany to spread conspiracy theories about newspapers controlled by “world Jewry.”

...The Fraenkelufer Synagogue sits on Berlin’s Landwehr Canal, a snaking, several-mile-long waterway that meets the city’s major river, the Spree, on each end. In September 1945, according to a Chicago Sun reporter, the canal still stank of decayed corpses when 400 Jewish survivors and about 30 American Jewish soldiers gathered for the first postwar synagogue service in Berlin. The main neo-Classical sanctuary that had once stood at the site sat in ruins, but a Jewish-American lieutenant stationed in Berlin named Harry Nowalsky, who could see the synagogue from his bedroom window, had made it a personal mission to restore a smaller, still-intact sanctuary in time for Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. On the cool holiday evening, the congregants, as one reporter wrote, “sang songs of Israel with tear-stained faces.” 

...Fraenkelufer Synagogue would not exist today without immigration. After the war, Jews from Eastern Europe formed a small congregation. After 1989, Jews from the former Soviet Union joined, but by the turn of the millennium, the congregation had dwindled. That began to change several years ago, with the immigration of young Jews from around the world to the neighborhood, including some of the thousands of Israelis who have migrated to Berlin in recent years — many of whom lean to the political left and are troubled by Israel’s rightward political shift...

One evening last summer, three generations of the Michalski family — Wenzel and Gemma, Wenzel’s father, Franz, and his mother, Petra, as well as Solomon’s siblings — sat in a row at an English-language theater in Berlin to watch Solomon, now 16 and enrolled in a new private school, perform in a play inspired by his experience with anti-Semitic bullying.

The play began with a scene in a classroom where an assignment was written on the board: “Tribalism Divides Communities — Elucidate.” The teenagers portrayed two tribes, the Whoozis and the Whatzits, who, because of ancient rivalries, fight. Eventually, everyone falls to the floor and perishes in a final battle. But then everyone slowly rises.

“So that’s it?” one tribe member said. “Everyone dies in the end?”

“That sucks,” another said.

“Yes, but it’s realistic,” another said.

Solomon had the last line.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not leaving until we get this right.”

After the play, Gemma told me that she didn’t hold grudges against the kids who bullied her son. “I didn’t give up on those kids,” she said. “The school gave up on those kids.” The attitude from many of the teachers, she said, was: “You can’t talk to them; they’re just Muslims.” This revealed a troubling unwillingness to stand up for, as she put it, “life in a liberal, tolerant democracy for everyone, beyond racism.”

I asked Solomon if he had thought much about anti-Semitism before the bullying episodes. He told me about a trip he took with his grandparents just before the bullying began. They visited the places in Poland, the Czech Republic and eastern Germany where his grandfather had hidden from the Gestapo. “That really opened my mind,” he told me. “I knew about my grandpa’s experiences, but I just, you know, felt really proud to be Jewish after that trip. Then after this whole thing happened, it makes me even more proud to be Jewish. I wouldn’t say I feel more religious. But it’s just the identity, the ethnic background of being Jewish and walking in Berlin as a Jewish boy.” His mother later told me that she found it sad that her son had formed a stronger sense of tribal identity based on the experience of mistreatment. She had not wanted him to forge his identity in fear. “I wanted him to be free,” she said.

Solomon told me that he was happy at his new school. He had made new friends of diverse backgrounds, and they had formed a band called the Minorities. Still, he added, he did not feel free to express his newfound Jewish identity in public. He had wanted to wear a Star of David necklace, he told me, but he and his parents had decided that this was not a good idea. The necklace could be exposed if someone were to pull his shirt back. “The thing is,” he said, “it’s still really dangerous. I mean, it’s not like, ‘O.K., everything is fine now.’ ”

[Read James Angelos’s excellent piece in The New York Times Magazine.]

[humansofhds]

George Vicente, MDiv '24

“I went to my cell, got on my knees, and made the decision to give my life to Jesus Christ. I said to him, ‘this day forward, I'm going to follow you.’ And I did. Before that moment, I gambled in the prison, and I drank alcohol. But after, I cut off everything. It was like night and day.”

George Vicente is an alum of the HDS Diversity and Explorations Program and an incoming student at HDS for fall 2021, planning to study New Testament philosophy. The child of Cape Verdean immigrants, Vicente is originally from Brockton, MA.

A Good Kid

I grew up in Brockton, Massachusetts. My parents are a Cape Verdean, and I grew up in a Cape Verdean household with my mother and my siblings. I didn't grow up with my father. 

Growing up, my mother was – and still is – a Catholic. I never went to church with her, but she had statues of Mary all over the house and a big mural of Jesus in her bedroom. She used to scare us with God. If we were misbehaving, she would say, “Jesus, you see what they're doing, right?” We would get scared and jump under the covers. I had a 100% belief in God. It didn’t matter that I didn’t go to church. I believed he existed and that he made all things. It was just natural to me. 

I was a good kid. I did good in school, I cared, and I was sympathetic. As I got older, I started to see that the older family members were involved in the street life. At first, when I looked at what they were doing, I was against it. 

But I guess, being in that environment, it slowly creeps up on you. By late elementary school, I started to emulate them in the way I walked and talked. I thought that was what a man was supposed to be – somebody who, like them, was tough, somebody who didn't take any type of disrespect. 

Over time, I grew into that identity. I would get into fights here and there. Even when I wanted to, I felt like I couldn't back down because of what I thought I had to be. 

One day, at the Brockton fair, my friends and I got into a fight with another group of kids, and we got jumped. After the fight, I started thinking that they got the best of me. In my head, they were somewhere looking down on me. My pride was hurt, and I was upset. I wanted to do something to get back at them. 

There was somebody in my area who had a firearm. When he showed it to me, I thought of it as an opportunity to do something back. I was 17 years old. In my head, it didn't matter if anybody got shot. I was focused on me. I wanted to scare them or have them run away. 

Unfortunately, what ended up happening was a 16-year-old got shot. I shot him. In his lower back. The bullet traveled, and he ended up dying. 

When I found out the next day that he had died, I was petrified. I couldn’t understand it – I had just done the biggest crime, the biggest thing you can do in the world. I didn't know how to deal with those emotions and that thought, so I suppressed the realization of what I had done. 

I mean, it was never my intention to do that – I didn’t even think it was a possibility. You would think that if you have a firearm, and you point at somebody and shoot, that you know harm or death can occur. But I didn't realize that. My whole intention had been to just do something to show them I was tough. 

There were witnesses, so the next day I was arrested. I was sent to Plymouth County Correctional Facility and charged with first degree murder. When I was there, I had this realization: I don't know who I really am. All I knew was that I had put on a front for the last four or five years. I had tried to be this image, this person I thought I was supposed to be. But I wasn’t that person. I was lost. 

Finding Hope Through Faith 

For the first year and a half of my incarceration, I still tried to live up to that tough image. I got in fights, spent time in solitary confinement. When I was around 20 years old, I stepped back and took a look at I was doing. I realized I didn’t want to do it anymore. I was done. 

I started, here and there, to go to church. I had always believed in God, but I hadn’t always obeyed him or done him good. He became more real to me in prison because I felt like I now needed him for survival and freedom. I tried to obey him, and I felt that he would be faithful to my efforts. I struggled, and sometimes I failed, but I still believed. 

Meanwhile, at trial, I was found guilty of second-degree murder. My sentence was 15 years to life. I was sent to a maximum security prison, and I was afraid. The maximum security prison was a dangerous place. When I walked into it, I could feel violence in the air – in the atmosphere. But I decided to stay out of any conflict. I knew it would be hard to do, but I was committed. 

Six or seven months in, an older Cape Verdean man in my unit came to speak to me. For two weeks, he spoke to me about God and all that God had done in his life. I saw his faith, and I wanted it. I wanted to see God in my life, like he did. 

One day, after talking to him, I went to my cell, got on my knees, and made the decision to give my life to Jesus Christ. I said to him, “this day forward, I'm going to follow you.” And I did. Before that moment, I gambled in the prison, and I drank alcohol. But after, I cut off everything. It was like night and day. 

My faith gave me the strength to stay out of conflict. And eventually, it gave me the opportunity to leave that prison. I had started getting more involved in the Bible. I would read the Bible for a few hours in the morning, a few hours in the afternoon, and few hours in the night. In between I would pray and go to Bible studies. I was surrounding myself with Christians. This led to me being transferred to Norfolk State Prison, where there were a lot more opportunities to grow.

In that prison, Boston University offered a degree program. When I got there, I decided I wanted to do it. I took the exams and interviewed with the professors. I got into Boston University, and I ended up graduating with a bachelor's degree in interdisciplinary studies. My whole life was changed. I had faith, and I had hope for a future. I didn't know exactly what my future was going to look like, but I believed – I still believe – that God is in control of my life. He had a plan and a purpose for me beyond the walls. 

Project “Get George into Harvard”

Before that point, I never thought about having a career. I just thought, when I get out, I'm going to go the church, and God is going to use me. I don't know how, but I believe he's going to. I had a purpose – why did I need a career? 

That’s what I thought, until one night, I had a dream where I was asking the prison GED professor, “how do you become a professor?” When I woke up, I knew that that was God speaking to me. He was telling me what he wanted me to do with my life. 

That day, I went to the GED professor and spoke to her about how to become a professor. She asked, “what do you want to teach?” I didn’t really know, until she asked a second question: “what are you passionate about?” 

As soon as she said that, it clicked. I told her, “Christianity.” And she was like, there you go. 

I knew from speaking with her that my next step was to get a Master’s of Divinity. I figured I would go somewhere practical, reasonable, and affordable – until my professor suggested Harvard. She said it with such conviction, like it was possible. Instantly, I just – I believed. I thought, if this dream is of God and this path is of God, then anything is possible – I can't give him limits. So we started project “Get George into Harvard.” 

At first, I didn't think I was smart enough for Harvard. I also didn’t think I had the money for it. I spoke to the prison chaplain about it. He had doubts at first too, not because he thought I couldn’t get in, but because Harvard is a liberal school and my faith is conservative. He didn’t how that would fit. I kind of felt the same way. But I told him that God is leading me in that direction. Later, when I realized why I was supposed to go to Harvard, put that into words, and told him, he was all for it.    

Flash forward to April of 2020, when I was released. I had been in prison since 2002 – 18 years. I hit the ground running. I took the GRE and I connected with an HDS graduate through a reverend I met in prison. She coached me through the application process and let me know what Harvard was like. I also got help writing my personal statement from a journalist friend of mine. It was with through their support that I was able to put words around my desire to go to Harvard. 

I wrote my application essay about my faith. I explained that mine is a real world faith – I believe that Jesus and God are real in this world. And so, since I believe they are real in this world, then they must stand firm in the face of philosophical questions, arguments, and debates. I want to be in the classroom, having those conversations, seeing my faith provide reasonable and intelligible answers to challenges. 

So why not Harvard Divinity School? It's actually the best place to go to because that's where all the theological and philosophical questions, ideas, and viewpoints that represent the face of the world are going to be. There's no better place. 

I submitted an application in January of this year. When I got my acceptance letter, I realized I wouldn’t have to pay for my degree – I got a full ride. And, yeah – now I'm in. 

Looking Forward 

I took New Testament Greek through the Summer Language Program this summer. We had our last class yesterday. I got hundreds on my midterms, and I think I did pretty well on my final. I've learned the foundation of this new language. Now I feel ready for the fall, ready to start the next part of my journey towards what God has for me. 

I'm most looking forward to learning different aspects of my faith and becoming more refined in it through God’s grace. If the professors are anything like the professor I had from my summer language program, I mean, that's awesome. That makes the class. 

My goal is to become a professor of Christian Philosophy at a university. I want to teach of God and Jesus Christ in a non-dogmatic way, through reason and logic to students from many different religious and non-religious backgrounds.

Right now, I’m also looking at classes that are different from my faith. I'm excited to be in those classes so I can hear and engage with new ideas. I have faith that God is going to show up in me in those classes. He's going to show me some things. I'm excited about what's going to happen.

Interview by Gianna Cacciatore; photos courtesy of George Vicente

[uro-boros]

looking for astronauts

The first few days after re-entry are lost in a buzz of pressers and parades, of viral videos showing Shiro wobbly-legged under newfound gravity and laughing, of interviews and photo shoots, smile nothing short of warm, wide, and winning. He was lucky to be photogenic and handsome, his handlers had told him more than once, and easy to root for; it did most of the work for him.

It takes nearly a week for the excitement to die down, and half of another week after that for Shiro to move back into his small, dusty apartment, which looks positively enormous post-International Space Station. It takes two weeks for his bones to settle into his frame again, their heaviness lost under the weight of everything else. It takes three weeks for him to get off of his couch, where he's spent hours catching up on bad reality tv and ice cream, and find a coffee shop.

It takes three weeks and three days (two hours, 17 minutes, and some seconds that he doesn't bother to know) since re-entry to meet Lance.

—

It's not arrogance that has him donning a baseball cap and sunglasses to leave his apartment. Shiro doesn't think people on the street are going to recognize him the way someone might recognize George Clooney or Brad Pitt. He puts them on because the day is bright and sunny, and his handlers have started chastising him about crow's feet and wrinkles in backhanded compliments about nearing his thirties.

And maybe a part of him does do it because he craves the anonymity of being able to get a coffee without having to be prepared to give a lecture on the vastness of space, the enormity of the galaxy, the scope and scale of human curiosity and his part in humanity’s forward trajectory. Shiro just wants coffee, non-instant, and maybe if he’s feeling fancy, cold-brewed.

“We just ran out of cold brew,” says the barista apologetically. “Hunk got our last cup.” The barista—Lance, reads the tag on his shirt, with a little golden star drawn next to it—nods over at the aforementioned Hunk, a big guy in a corner fiddling on his laptop and looking progressively more and more wrecked by whatever is on his screen. The last of the cold brew is, indeed, next to him.

Being disappointed over coffee is illogical, so Shiro isn’t. “Just regular coffee, then,” he orders instead, “there’s always tomorrow.”

His smile is met by Lance’s, which is brilliant and bright, flanked by dimples and the crinkle of under-eyebags. Their fingertips brush in the transfer of the cup and as Lance leans into his space to give a conspiratorial wink to murmur, “I’ll save it for you tomorrow.” In that second, it feels like it did the precise moment Shiro broke atmosphere, when all the weight went out of the ship, and the world was distant and silent, and before him stretched out the black-blue expanse of space.

What he means to say: Lance is cute.

And Shiro, who has been equipped with media training and Russian language training, military water survival courses, the best education and preparation the military can shovel into one person, is poorly equipped for what it feels like to have a crush. He can feel the heat of a blush creep up his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, where it must look stark behind the length of his scar, and burn the tops of his ears.

He’s suddenly very glad for his sunglasses, which give him something to hide behind. And glad for the brim of his cap—which he can tug down over his ears. And with that, Shiro, who faced the unknown multitude of the universe with open arms, doesn’t precisely flee, but walks faster than normal away from the coffee shop and from Lance.

—

“Okay, wow,” says Keith, “are you serious?”

He reflects that Keith probably shouldn’t have been the first person that he told. That Matt or Allura would be better, gentler, more prepared to coax him through the steps of nursing a crush; in that same vein, that they would be more merciless in their exploitation of it, more tongue-in-cheeked about it.

Which is why he had called Keith, because Keith had the subtlety of cavemen bashing rocks against each other to make pointier rocks. Keith saw problems and threw himself bodily against them, heedless of the beating he took in the process. Eventually, in his mind, something would have to give—and history had proven that something always gave before Keith did, for better or for worse.

It helped, too, that Keith still looked at him with the rosy glow of a brother-figure; that in different circumstances, Keith would have been up in the stars with him.

“You spoke three words to him, and he spoke three words back, and now you have a crush? How does this work? Are you that bad at people? Is this what space does to people?”

“I saw the same five people for a year, Keith,” Shiro sighs, “forgive me if it’s nice to see someone new.” And before that, even, his friends had been the same class of people for eight years, interspersed with the overwhelming rush of new faces and new names that came with press tours.

“Okay, but most people still don’t go from hi, how are you, to I want to profess my undying love to you in the span of thirty seconds,” Keith points out, probably rightly.

“I just said he was cute.”

Keith’s arms are folded across his chest. The line of his mouth is long and thin, and when he speaks, it’s with a tone of resignation. “Shiro, when you met Allura, you said you admired how strong she was. You never said anything about her being cute. In fact, when someone did call her cute, you told them, and I quote, ‘Allura is a valuable asset to the team, and we’re lucky to have her.’”

Shiro frowns. “She is. We are.”

“Wow,” says Keith, openly gaping at him, “you honestly have no idea, do you? And people say I’m bad at this. They have no idea. Talk to the barista. You’re hopeless, and I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

“His name is Lance,” he corrects Keith, letting the other comments slide. He’s always known, unlike Keith, how to pick his battles.

“Lance,” Keith repeats, as if a dawning realization is on him, “the barista’s name is Lance?”

“Yes.”

Keith says, with complete sincerity: “We’re doomed.”

—

He makes it back to the coffee shop one month out of re-entry. It takes him time to work up the nerve, to feel right in his skin.

“Cold brew!” calls Lance from the counter, stretching out across it to wave at Shiro. He has the lanky proportions of a college student, maybe just on the opposite side of twenty. Younger than Shiro’s twenty-seven going on twenty-eight (going on thirty, according to his media coaches, wear more sunscreen, drink more water).

The day outside had bloomed grey and cloudy, so there are no sunglasses this time, and Shiro’s traded the baseball cap for a knitted beanie. Recognizable enough, to a certain audience, but only as cold brew to Lance. He finds himself smiling.

“I didn’t catch your name last time,” says Lance when Shiro approaches the counter. He rearranges himself off of it, the awkward gangliness of his limbs dropping and turning into something lithe and liquid. “Did you want a cold brew again? I saved you a cup last time, but you never showed up.”

“In order of questions, it’s Shiro,” he says, “and no, a regular coffee again, and also, sorry that I didn’t. Things came up. I just moved back, so—you know how that is.”

“People to see, places to go?” muses Lance. His sharpie makes squeaking noises against the cardboard cup as he writes out Shiro’s name; against the tail-end of the looping O, he adds in stars, their crossed lines mimicking the one on his own name tag.

“Something like that,” Shiro agrees. His smile is rewarded with one of Lance’s—still bright, still dimpling, and his heart still stuttering staccato in his chest.

He is painfully out of his element—and though he knows the periodic table nearly by heart, Shiro isn’t sure that the element he’s out of is listed on there in the first place. He doesn’t know what to do. It’s the first time, in a long time of regimented courses and drill instructors, that he’s been totally at his own devices.

He’s forced to the realization that his own devices might have rusted from disuse.

“Would you like to get coffee?” he blurts out.

Lance blinks at him. His hand is curled around Shiro’s coffee cup, finger tips stained a slightly darker shade of brown than his skin tone, and behind him are stacked bags and bags of beans. Shiro’s rusty devices grind their gears in all the wrong ways. There’s a pursed moue to Lance’s mouth.

“That was stupid,” he says, leaning against the counter and sighing.

“It was pretty stupid,” Lance agrees, voice warm and teasing. He brushes his stained fingers over the top of Shiro’s hand. “I drink like, so much coffee. I’m probably 85% coffee right now,” he says. “Take me out for ice cream or something. Save coffee for the third date, at least.”

And well, that—that’s something Shiro can do.

—

Shiro meets Keith somewhere between Keith’s third foster home and his fifth new school. At the time they meet, Keith’s hair is buzzed short and regulation, and the tight line of his shoulders say fire and fury, a 150 pound teenage ordnance.

It’s easy to become Keith’s friend, because Keith doesn’t have any, and he craves them with something fierce and dying inside of him.

So when Keith, sitting next to Shiro, a blanket of stars laid out in the sky above them says about Lance, “Be careful,” Shiro knows he means it. The wounded beast in Keith’s chest picked its friends and family carefully and guarded them jealously.

“I will,” he promises.

But Shiro keeps forgetting that the gravity on earth is different than on the moon, and he falls harder than he’d meant to, hits the ground faster than he’d expected. It’s only in hindsight that he realizes this is what Keith was warning him about.

—

Their first date is: hamburgers from McDonald’s in the park, Lance stealing Shiro’s fries (he said they tasted better, despite having his own), and one of the one-dollar ice cream cones, because Shiro’s always been good at retention of information and Lance had wanted ice cream, he said.

He learns this: Lance is the youngest of seven—seven, he repeats, with a wave of his arms for added emphasis—and he’s studying marine biology because once, when he was real little, one of his three older sisters (he doesn’t specify which one) took him to an aquarium, where he learned that sharks in utero would sometimes eat their siblings, which was sort of an appealing thought when you were the youngest of seven. So that was cool, and his sister bought him a stuffed shark when they left, and the rest was history.

And then quieter, Lance adds: the ocean made him feel small, but not in a way that was frightening. It was comforting, actually, to be dwarfed by something so much larger, to mean less than all his anxieties convinced him of; there was comfort in being a speck, of being inessential, of being one tiny, tiny mote of dust. He could mess up, and it wouldn’t ever tip the grander scale.

There is a heartbeat of silence before Lance grins and laughs, shaking off whatever had passed over him. “That was too serious,” he says, “wow, that was way too serious, I’m sorry.”

If Shiro were better with words, he might have said he felt the same in that lurching minute of the shuttle hurtling through the atmosphere. He isn’t better with words though, so he flounders and settles on an awkward clapping of Lance’s shoulders that serves no purpose and does nothing. Lance’s brief, confused smile in response is a little bit heartbreaking—and Shiro flounders more, in its wake.

Lance draws back after a second of silence, leaving a deliberate inch of space between them. His smile goes slightly wooden and he stands, brushing grass and dirt from the seat of his pants. “Hey,” he says, “this was fun, but I should probably get going. Things to do. You know. Shouldn’t hold you up all day.”

He doesn’t know. Shiro is good about knowing things, but this—this isn’t something he knows. But when he opens his mouth to say that, what comes out is: “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I should get going, too.”

Lance nods, like he isn’t really paying attention, smiles, and leaves. It’s all very brusque and strange; there’s still ice cream in the hamburger bag, melting away.

And Shiro, who has scored perfectly on every exam he’s ever taken, comes to the sudden realization that he’s failed at something, for the first time in his life—completely and utterly flunked.

And he doesn’t know how or why.

—

“Oh, Shiro,” breathes Allura, her accent making a soft blur of her words, “I’m so very sorry.”

She takes one of his hands with both of hers, and her palms are warm and soft. In a different world, he’s probably madly in love with her; in this one, he’s just grateful for the contact and the tea she’s provided, strong and herbal, and her steady presence by his side.

“It was just a first date,” he points out, achingly aware of how miserable he sounds. “Those don’t go anywhere all the time.”

Allura squeezes his hand and gives him a searching look. “But it’s alright to have wanted it to go somewhere,” she tells him, “and it’s alright to feel bad that it didn’t, or to feel as if you lack closure as to why it didn’t. You liked him.”

“I met him three times. I barely knew him.”

There are things Allura could say. Pointed things; not designed to hurt, but to cut away precisely, like a scalpel, to the very core of Shiro. Things like: He’s a private figure living a public life and living a public life that was carefully, systematically, managed. That he so very rarely got to be himself, so very rarely got to be Shiro rather than Takashi Shirogane, the first man in over four decades to step foot on the moon.

She doesn’t say any of those things. Instead, she says, “I’ll put the kettle back on,” and does just that, her form disappearing into the arched entryway of the kitchen.

—

Keith says, “You really don’t know, huh.” The leather of his jacket, today, is red, and his hair is uncombed and unkempt. He looks like he hasn’t slept for a week. Which, at least for Keith, is good in the grander scheme of things.

“Listen,” Keith sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You should just talk to him. I know Lance. He’s an idiot, but not an asshole.”  

“I had a bad date,” Shiro says. “It wasn’t even that bad, but he isn’t interested, and that’s okay. I don’t know why everyone is so worried.”

Keith gives him a look that is only partly dark and partly dangerous. He contemplates something, and whatever decision he comes to must not be one he likes, because his words are bitten out and chewed thoroughly when he spits them up. “Lance likes you. More important. Everyone likes you. And everyone wants you to be happy because everyone likes you. But especially fucking Lance, who you just had to go and have a crush on. Who’s an idiot who makes up stupid stories and says I have a mullet. But you like him so. I’ll deal.”

“He left our date,” Shiro points out quietly.

“Because he’s an idiot! How many times do I have to say it? But it wasn’t because he didn’t like you. It’s because he probably likes you so much that he thinks he’s fucking everything up, because he’s had your stupid newspaper articles tacked over his bed for the past year. Which I know, because I’ve seen them, unfortunately.” Shiro opens his mouth—and promptly closes it when Keith holds up a finger. “Shut up, you don’t get to talk except to say ‘Thank you, Keith, I’m going to go ask out Lance McClain because I have no taste.’”

“Thank you, Keith, I’m going to ask out Lance?” Shiro ventures.

“Because you have no taste,” finishes Keith. He rolls his shoulders, like he’s getting rid of heavy weight. “Lance likes you. Lance followed every single dumb thing about your mission with bated breath, and literally teared up during your first interview from the station. So. Yeah. There you go. Have fun.”

The day before Shiro was scheduled to go to space, he had dinner with Keith. They’d gone to a diner off a long, dusty strip of road, and for miles around them there was silence, save for the chirping of crickets. In their quiet booth, Keith had unscrewed the cap from a shaker of salt and spilled it out over the table. Despite the action being deliberate, he picked a pinch of it and tossed it over his left shoulder ritualistically. With what was left on the table, he etched small patterns and waves, and finally, a little sliver of a crescent moon.

Keith said, “I’m used to people leaving and not coming back.”

That was it. He didn’t ask for more, or try to extract a promise. It wasn’t his style, and Shiro wouldn’t have given him one even if he had. Keith had been let down by too many promises before.

They ate their dinner, and Shiro covered the bill. At the end of the night, Keith kissed him, and when Shiro drew him away, Keith laughed and pressed his forehead to Shiro’s chest, right above where his heart lay. “I figured,” he said, and he didn’t sound upset or particularly bothered. After, he ambled his way off into the dark, a slight silhouette that gave way like a mirage into the desert. He wasn’t there to see Shiro off; but Shiro had never asked him to be, either.

—

He finally musters the courage to go to the coffee shop on a blustery Tuesday. Winter roared in the week prior, and the soft powder it had initially brought has turned to hard ice.

Inside the shop, the decorations are decidedly Christmas-themed, red and green ball ornaments hanging down from the ceiling, garland twining around the outside of the counter. The shop is also decidedly-empty, except for Lance, on the wrong side of the counter and dressed down in worn jeans with a sweater, groaning at the guy who took the last of the cold brew the first time Shiro visited behind the counter.

“Hunk,” Lance is saying, “feed me.” The e elongates along a stretched syllable.

“Pay for it, and I will,” is Hunk’s response. “Or get out of the way if you’re not so someone else can order.”

Lance pouts, but folds his limbs back up obligingly. He gives way with an exaggerated bow, bending low at the waist, before straightening up with a grin.

A grin that disappears, quick as it came, when he comes face to face with Shiro.

“Hi,” says Shiro. From the corner of his eye, he catches Hunk’s form turning and making its way into the back room.

“Um. Hi.” Lance says. There’s a flash of—something, across his face. That half-second deliberation of fight or flight, before the more reasonable part of his brain quells the animal instinct. Plus, Shiro’s blocking the door. He may have done that on purpose.

“Did you know,” Shiro says—and he rehearsed this, which makes it better and worse, that he actually practiced this—“that time slows near a black hole.”

“Um,” blinks Lance. “I guess? I was sort of aware of that.”

“I’ve always thought that would be a perfect place to fall in love,” he says. And then, because he’s an astronaut, and not a poet, and practically reigns supreme. “If you could ignore the spaghettification, that is.”

Lance keeps blinking at him. And blinks again. “I—what?” he finally settles on. The hunted flash that crossed his face at first seeing Shiro is gone, replaced by a rising bemusement.

“Spaghettification,” Shiro repeats, “is the stretching that happens in a very strong, non-homogeneous gravitational field. It’s what would happen if we ever stood near a black hole. So it wouldn’t really be the best place to fall in love, because no object can withstand it, but I was told it’s the thought that counts. Time slows there, so falling in love would be more romantic there, I assume.”

“I know what spaghettification is,” Lance says. His brow creases, like he’s sorting through something. “It’s sort of romantic, I guess? Being a noodle isn’t that romantic though. It’s hard to be a sexy noodle.” His bemusement eases into something closer to amused than puzzled. He leans back against the counter, his limbs set at an easy angle. “Any reason you’re telling me this?”

“Because,” Shiro says, and finds the words coming to him easier than he thought they would, “I like you. And I don’t know how I messed up our first date, except that I did. But I like you, Lance. And I’d like to take you out again.”

“Oh,” Lance breathes. “No. I—no.” Shiro’s heart sinks, but before it plunges, Lance grabs his hand, “You didn’t mess anything up. I messed it up! I said all of that stupid stuff about feeling dumb and small and like, overshared by 78% too much on a first date. And I thought you deserved better than me, because you’re Shiro,” and the way Lance says his name isn’t like how most people say it, like Shiro’s a cut above them, but like the word is special to him, “and so I figured I should just. Like. Let it go. It’s like being in love with Prince Charming, but I’m not Cinderella, I’m one of the mice.” He waves his free hand to illustrate his last point.

“I like mice,” Shiro says. When Lance face scrunches, Shiro squeezes his hand and insists. “I do. Mice are really interesting, they’re thought to empathize with the experiences of other mice, and I—I am really bad at this, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lance laughs, “pretty bad.” But he isn’t drawing away, and his expression has crossed over into something soft and fond. He sways a little closer to Shiro, so that Shiro can feel the warmth coming off of him in waves.

“Lance,” says Shiro seriously. He’s good at serious and sincere. “I like you. I do.”

“I like you, too,” says Lance, his mouth curving into a smile.

He realizes how close they are, then, when the curve of Lance’s mouth seems endless, when he realizes that he’s holding Lance’s hand up against his heart, pressed into the warm boundaries of their bodies. Lance is shorter than him, though everything about his build gives the impression of stretch and length, and it’s easy to bend over him and press a kiss against his mouth.

Once, tumbling in suspended free fall in a metal can in space, Shiro had fallen head over heels and kept falling until he smacked up against a wall panel and clutched it for stability. He hadn’t realized it was possible to do the same on earth, figured gravity was enough to keep him grounded. Kissing Lance tosses the notion of gravity out of the window.

Precisely until Hunk clears his throat behind them and says, “I’m still here, guys.”

[abdullah-albyati]

My 15 Year Journey To Get My Bachelor's Degree

You might be asking yourself why it took me fifteen years to get my undergraduate degree? If so, please bear with me for a minute and read along while I share my journey. I hope this can inspire and motivate anyone working on achieving something. 

I was born in Baghdad Iraq. I never really got to know my father because he was killed in action during the Iraq-Iran war when I was two years old. I was raised by a widowed mother who did everything in her power to have me and my three siblings get our education in the best schools available in Baghdad. With that in mind, education was a very important thing for me growing up. I remember when I was a kid, my friends and I would tell each other to make a wish whenever we saw a shooting star. I would always wish that I could go to college and graduate.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to make that wish happen for me. Prior to 2003 the situation in Baghdad was boiling, and news was coming that the United States was planning to free Iraq and overthrow the dictator’s regime. For our safety, my mother decided we should migrate to Syria and live there until the war was over. 

So we sought refuge in Syria. Due to the timing of our move and me having to work to support myself and my mother, I missed two years of high school. At age sixteen I was working two jobs. I knew I needed to finish high school and go to college because that was the DREAM. Since I was busy working and had already missed two years of school I decided the best option was to keep working while going to a private institute that helped students get their GED diploma. I began taking GED classes at the Institute in Damascus while working two or three jobs. I eventually passed the exam and graduated high school. 

I was so happy that I could finally apply to attend college and make my dream a reality. So I applied to Damascus University and was accepted into Damascus University College of Archaeology. I was very interested in History and Archaeology and really wanted to attend this college. Here is a picture of me happy at Damascus University (The picture was taking a few years after I was accepted)

I was so happy. I got my books and made a great group of friends. I was attending lectures and living my dream. But this dream came to a crash about six months into my first year of college when I got a phone call from the university administration office informing me that I was accepted into the university by mistake. I was considered a foreign student because I was from Iraq and in order to continue, I would have to pay about $3000 a year. Asking me to come up with that amount of money in Syria is like asking someone to come up with $50K in 10 days here in the U.S.  It was impossible for me to afford that. 

You can probably imagine the devastation that I felt at the time. My dream was no longer possible and I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t come up with that amount of money. I was sad. I was angry. I thought it was unfair that this was happening to me. It was 2006 when that happened and my brother was working for the U.S. Army as an interpreter in Iraq. He suggested that I come and work with the U.S. Army in Iraq and save money to go to college.

So here I am again, having to put my education on hold, and deciding to work for the U.S Army in the most dangerous area of Iraq at that time. I walked to the Local Nationals Interpreters Office of FOB Warhorse Baqubah where my brother had arranged for someone to pick me up and assign me to a unit to work with. From late 2006 to mid-2010 I worked with about five different U.S. Army units, mostly Military Police units, translating, surviving, and being inspired by the sacrifices and the hard work of the U.S. Army Soldiers in Iraq. 

My time as an interpreter taught me everything. Working side by side with U.S. Army Soldiers showed me the real meaning of sacrifice. I told the Sergeants that I worked with that I wanted to go to the United States and that  I wanted to join the Army and be a U.S. Soldier. 

On September 2010 I made it to the United States and on my first day in San Jose, California I went to San Jose State University and got myself a library card. I got to see the college campus and started thinking about college again, but as we all know college is not cheap in the United States either. For a new refugee with little to no money, I thought to wait a little bit and maybe think about college later. I spent a year in San Jose, California working part-time jobs and volunteering for a refugee settlement program at Catholic Charities helping to get refugees like me settled in the United States.

On June 2011 I walked into the Army recruiting office on Stevens Creek Boulevard in San Jose and stated that I wanted to join the Army. A month later I took the oath and joined the United States Army and in January 2012 I was shipped off to Basic Training.

After all this time, a college education was something I still wanted to do. During my time in the Army, I took part-time college classes, but spent the majority of my time and effort on obtaining certifications in Cisco Networking Associate Certification (CCNA), CCNA-Security, Linux+, Data Science and Data Analysis courses and an Undergraduate Certificate in Information Technology from Penn State University.

I knew that certifications were in high demand and that there were many online courses that taught high demand skills. I choose to concentrate on Data Analysis and Cybersecurity because I knew that after the Army I wanted to go back to Silicon Valley and work for a tech company. 

In 2018 I was honorably discharged from the Army and in October of that year thanks to shift.org I started a dream job as a Data Analyst at Uber in San Francisco. In October of 2018, I took advantage of the GI Bill benefits and I enrolled as a fulltime student at Western Governors University in their Data Management/Data Analysis program. Thanks to the amazing support of my college mentor and WGU, I finished my Bachelor's Degree this month, June 2020, in under 2 years with only 21 credits transferred. All while working full time at Uber. 

Dreams do come true. Keep working hard and don’t blame life or others when things don’t go your way. Work hard, play hard, and great things will happen for you.

[blschaos3000-blog]

Its 9:34 pm

Welcome to “8 Questions With…….”

So…I’m going to be honest with you here. When I read our next guest’s story,I cried. Now there be many of you already leaving this interview but hear me out. Alfred Carter IV’s story is one that you need to hear because its proof positive that mountains can be climbed even when you’re hanging on by the fingernails. Alfred has done quite amount of living in a short time,a gifted football player,smart student in the classroom,being cast in two big budgeted films and being forced to climb that damn mountain…but Alfred has planted his flag and moved on. So now this talented actor/musician,forged by fire,is intent on making his mark in life. I have zero doubt that whatever path Alfred takes in the future,he will make that path his own and something great will result because of it. Personally,I can’t wait to see where takes us. But for now…..let’s go ask Alfred Carter IV his eight questions……

  Please introduce yourself and tell us about your latest project. 

What’s up everybody, my name is Alfred Carter IV and I am an Actor/Writer/Musician from New Orleans, Louisiana and I currently live in Phoenix, Arizona.     The latest project that I completed was a voice over for an environmental campaign that is set to air on Pandora as well as radio.     Even more recent is the finalization of a feature length script for a film based on my college experience mixed in with a little action, drama, and comedy. I am in the process of sorting some things out and then I will start pitching the idea to investors, etc. It will definitely be an entertaining movie to say the least, something for sports fans and non-sports fans alike.

What was your house like growing up? What are your fondest memories growing up? 

Growing up my house was like a musical mixed with a funny reality television show. My dad was a police officer but could’ve been on Saturday Night Live and my mom was a nurse but could’ve been a professional singer. It was always fun, we were always singing, joking and around having fun. We didn’t really play video games growing up, this caused us to be creative and use our imagination. I credit a lot of my creativity to the way I was brought up.     As far as my fondest memories growing up I have so many of them, my top ones would be when each of my younger siblings were born. Another would be this time when my mom checked me out of school and we went to lunch and then went to fly kites at the park. Another would be the times I’d wrestle around with my dad like Mufasa and Simba in the Lion King. 

You played college football, which school did you play for and what was that experience like?What were your three favorite subjects to study?

I played Division-1 college football for Nicholls State University in Louisiana and the experience was like no other. I appreciate the free education that was provided but it definitely came at a cost. People think that the life of a student-athlete is so glamorous but it’s not all that it seems. Although my time as a college football player completely revolved around football I still had fun times though.     My favorite subjects to study were actually all electives. They were Fine Arts Survey, History of Music: Rock n Roll, and Psychology. 

Your career got off to a promising start by being featured in two big films but then tragedy struck, can you share what happened?

My first role was as a stunt-actor was in Lee Daniels’ The Butler. One day I got an email from a former NFL player turned stuntman that I used to train with inviting me to go on an audition.    My scene was very cool and fun it even made the movie trailer! Unfortunately, the scene itself got cut from the actual film due to the violence involved in it, it was a gun fight with the police.    My second role was as a stunt-actor in When the Game Stands Tall, directed by Thomas Carter. I found out about this role from someone I met on the set of Lee Daniels’ The Butler. This goes to show you that it is important to not only network but to have proper set etiquette because people are always watching how you conduct yourself. We finished shooting all of the football scenes for When the Game Stands Tall in the Summer of 2013 and in December of 2013 my life literally changed forever. My brother and I were headed home after going to the John Mayer concert in New Orleans an we were in a terrible car accident.    I was in the Intensive Care Unit for a week with a broken back, torn my hip, and ruptured my intestines which resulted in me having to get to use a colostomy bag for nine months. To make all of this even worse my brother, Andrew, didn’t survive the accident. It was crazy and didn’t seem real for the longest. My brother and I were literally best friends. We did everything together, went everywhere together, made music together, and we had a ton of plans together. My life was literally turned upside down. 

Where did your journey take you as you recovered from your injuries? 

My journey to recovery was tough to say the least. Growing up in a house where Faith was a big part of our lives made it even harder for me to be able to grasp why this even happened. To say that I was completely shaken up and torn down to my core in every aspect of who I was would be an understatement. There were a few times when I just wanted to give up because I legitimately felt like I had nothing to live for. If it weren’t for my family and my Faith, there’s no way I would’ve made it back from where was at that time. My journey to recovery was beautiful because not only did I heal physically but I healed mentally and spiritually as well. This accident caused me to slow down from the pace in which I was living and reflect on a lot of things that I never gave much thought to before.     In 2015 I was presented with an opportunity to do missionary work and I initially shut it down but there was this tugging within me that I just couldn’t ignore. I went on mission for two year and it was amazing. While on mission I gave so much of myself but the crazy thing about it is that I gained so much more in return. I would’ve never grown as much as I did had I not stepped outside of my comfort zone and become apart of something greater than myself.

    When did you move to Arizona and how have you found the acting community to be so far?

I moved to Arizona in January of 2018 and I have found the acting community to be pretty cool and supportive. Arizona is a beautiful state with beautiful scenery and beautiful people from all over the world, it’s a shame there isn’t more filming being done here. 

Which aspect of acting do you like most? How would you describe your style of acting?

The aspect I love the most about acting is being able to transfer my energy and emotions from other aspects of myself into my performance, the feeling is amazing!     If I had to describe my style of acting I would say that it is most like Meisner. I enjoy this style most because it seems the most natural to me and it allows me to be myself yet not myself as myself but myself as the character that I am portraying.  

Improv seems so challenging, what do you use  to get into the “moment” so quickly? 

I love Improv! I am a natural born artist so improvisation is pretty easy for me, its like a game, its fun!  As far as getting into the moment, I just release my inhibitions by taking majority of what I’ve learned as an adult and toss it aside. Then I dig deep within myself, find my inner child, wake him up, and get to work!

If you were at an audition and a follow actor who going for the same part asked for your help, would you do or not and why?

   Of course I’d help! I would help not only because I would want someone to help me but because it’s about being an artist, a true artist is someone who shares their art. A lot of times actors get caught up in thinking that it is all about them and it’s really not, the movie goes on either way. My mindset is this, if the role is for me then I’ll get it, if not, then I won’t. It is what it is.

  What do you enjoy about modeling? How did you get into it?

So I never actually intended to do modeling I just kind of stumbled into it. Some one asked me if I could model their fashion line and I did it and it just kind of went from there. As far as what I enjoy about modeling, it would be networking and meeting new people as well as getting free gear.  

What does “peace” mean to you?

Peace to me is remaining in the present moment and allowing myself to appreciate the beauty in every aspect of life that surrounds me on every step of my journey. Not stressing about the past or worrying about the future but remaining calm and learning along the way to prepare for the next level of our journey. 

The cheetah and I are flying in to watch you film your new film but we are a day early and now you are playing tour guide,what are we doing? 

So if you flew into Phoenix a day early and we had time, we could go up to Sedona, it’s one of my top 3 favorite places in Arizona, it’s beautiful. If we decided to stay closer to the city of Phoenix we could go grab a bite to eat at one of my favorite spots in Downtown Phoenix called Trapp Haus BBQ. After that we could just see what would be going on for that day. If it were the first Friday of the month we could go to First Friday in Downtown Phoenix.      If we were back in New Orleans though, we would have to go to Drago’s Seafood Restaurant and get some chargrilled oysters. Then we could hit the French Quarter for a bit and then maybe grab a drink and walk to the river and watch the riverboats and the sunset. After that we’d go to Frenchman Street and catch some live music.

  I like to thank Alfred very much for sharing his story with us. As you can see,he is an incredible human being who has overcome tremendous and life-altering challenges to get where he is now and quite honestly,I can’t see anything stopping him in his quest to become a household name. I mean,he already is in mine….. You can follow Alfred’s career by heading over to his website. Inside you can find his various social media sites which I hope you’ll follow.

Its doing a interview like this that reminds me how much I love doing this series and am grateful for the people who will sit down virtually with me and talk about lives. I hope you enjoy meeting these people as much as I do.

If you have a story that you want to share,no matter what it is,please reach out and let’s talk. This format is open to anyone and anybody that is a human being.

Feel free to drop a comment below,we would to get some feed back!!

8 Questions with …………actor/musician Alfred Carter IV Its 9:34 pm Welcome to "8 Questions With......." So...I'm going to be honest with you here. When I read our next guest's story,I cried.

[kenbinru]

I Can’t Believe I Have the Girlfriend of My Dreams! (An Unromantic Love Comedy LN). Chapter 1

                                                       Prologue

 I’m feeling light-headed. I can only tell that this is not my room. There’s an unfamiliar quaint septic smell that passes through my nose. I can’t remember how I got here, or where I am. I slowly open my eyes only to find my childhood friend Daisuke Akatsuka towering over my bed.

“Kept me waiting huh Kaz?” he says sarcastically.  

“Where…am I?” as I notice I’m surrounded by medical equipment. It’s weird since none of it actually appears to be hooked up to me.  I look down and also notice I’m wearing a blue colored gown.      

“Lucky for you, the doctor says you only have a small bump on your head dude. Only you and your big head could’ve survived that!”

My memories come flooding back to me and I remember now. I must’ve fallen off my bike going through the stupid shortcut while heading home. Mother always told me not to take that turn at night, but it was getting really late. Besides, I’ve taken it multiple times before with no problem.

“But I’m glad you’re ok Kazuki. What would I do if my partner in crime is gone?”

That was a surprise. Usually Daisuke was never the sentimental type. I must have really made him worried if I managed to crack his cool guy persona.

“How long have you been waiting Daisuke?” I ask.

Daisuke hesitated. He started to count his fingers and tried to recall how long I was out.

“Oh not much, you’ve been out for less than a week. I just happened to be in the neighborhood and saw your name down the hall. They announced your situation to us in class.”

Less than a week…? What could I have missed out on?  

Just then a sharp piercing pain is felt within my skull. I touch my head and it stings.

Ouch!

There are bandages or something wrapped tightly around my head. Ironically, even though I apparently nearly died, there’s something about the ease of being in a hospital bed. Although this bed wasn’t as comfy as the one at home, I barely had any energy to complain. Life has been rough so far honestly, and this was the first time in a while that I’ve felt relaxed. Daisuke interrupts the calm atmosphere by throwing me my missed homework assignments.

“By the way, here are your missed assignments.”

I look through the piles of paper, only to find two copies of every assignment.

“You do your own homework dummy!”

“It didn’t hurt to try haha.” Says Daisuke.

Did he really think that would work on me?

Somehow…, I’m not surprised.

                                                       Chapter 1

           “PLEASE GO OUT WITH ME!”

There was nothing but silence and gasps all around the school yard.

“How desperate is he?”

What was intended to be a one-on-one situation, eventually caught wind to being observed by the whole school. There she was, Akane Yuki, the undisputed “Ice Witch” of Kasumigaseki High standing in front of me. If I could see her face while I was bowing to her, I would hope it’s a smile. Instead when I raised my head, it was the look of shame and embarrassment. The long black haired Ice Witch looked unaffected by my sudden confession.

“Um…is this a joke?”

I could hear groans from the students hiding all around us. The Ice Witch’s words struck me like there was frostbite in my heart – if that was even possible. I know I’m the most average guy you could possibly meet, but that hurt.

Somebody please save me!

*RING*

By some divine intervention to save me from further ruining my already little reputation, the school bell rang. It’s time for me to go back to class, and go back to the corner seat where at least people won’t be staring. Maybe.

         As I head back to class 2-B, Daisuke grabs me in a headlock.   “Wow cherry boy, even I don’t have guts like that.”

The idiot actually convinced me that the infamous Ice Witch of school was interested in me since her new transfer to our school last semester. Valentines’ Day was coming up, and so it made sense to me at the moment. The only problem was she sat right in front of me in our class. It hits a man’s pride when someone hasn’t noticed you for a whole semester.

“You tricked me though! You said it was just going to be me and her, and that she was too shy to say anything about me!” I yelled to my obnoxious friend.

“I can’t believe you actually did it though! I guess I was wrong about you Kaz.” as Daisuke ended with a heartfelt laugh.

“Besides, you kept going on and on about the Ice Witch last semester, so might as well get it over with now. I just happened to be passing by near the old shed by the outskirts of the school yard when I saw her. I could’ve been killed from her icy gaze y’know!”

 The Ice Witch of Kasumigaseki High didn’t even as much as look at anyone the whole semester from my observations. For example, when it’s lunch time, she just disappears off to somewhere on the school yard, and I guess I accidentally exposed her secret hiding spot. She must really hate me now. Whatever little relevance I’ve had in her life has officially disappeared.

Akane Yuki got her name the “Ice Witch” about a few weeks after the first semester from what I recall. From her introduction in our class when she introduced herself, it felt like love at first sight.

         “Nice to meet everyone. I hope we get along.” As she smiled.

It was going to be like any other day, but my heart fluttered. Here was an elegant woman who just exuded class, but yet she was here with us fellow plebeians at a second-rate high school. That long black hair that looked endless, her fair pale skin like ice, and it was all neatly wrapped in a package with her hazel eyes. Our uniform wasn’t exactly something that could go down the fashion runway, but she looked like an angel had fallen from above. If she had any fault, it would be her smile. There was something off about her smile, something about that didn’t feel like it was genuine. It looked like it was rehearsed, like an idol’s during a press conference. Our eyes met for a split second when she walked towards me to take the only open seat in front of me. I looked away immediately from her cold gaze, but for some strange reason it seemed comforting. It felt like those were eyes that had seen a lot. Maybe I’m a masochist internally, but Yuki-san was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And here she was, the woman of my dreams, handed right in front of me like it was destiny.

         Only problem was I seemed to be the only one who looked at her with admiration. With her introduction, all the girls of class 2-B all asked Yuki-san to hang out and go to their club meetings. After all, it turned out she was a born natural at sports despite her rather delicate demeanor. She even outran our track star Mary Kaneko, who’s won multiple state wide championships! However, she shot down every single invitation from everyone.

         “Are you in any clubs yet?” asked Renge-san, one of the members of the literature club.

“No, I’m busy today.” She would say. Or:

“I have to study for exams.”

It wasn’t a lie, since the moment she entered class she scored the highest in nearly every exam and quiz. Our track star Kaneko-san went from first to second every time – by a significant margin. A normal person would have taken advantage of the chance of becoming the most popular person at school, but it seemed like she was actively avoiding everyone for some reason. Eventually the invitations stopped completely. It was odd to have someone with so many positives choose be a hermit. Her apathetic attitude towards a social life led her to become infamous for shooting down relationships with anyone, which led to her having zero friends (that I know of). What seemed to be a warm exterior turned out to be cold, hence the nickname: “Ice Witch.”

“You’re an idiot!” Said the track star Kaneko-san.

“It was obvious she was going to reject you, but yet you still went for it you dummy!”

Kaneko-san ran into class 2-B after the school bell rung. She was in the more lively class 2-A, and I guess by coincidence all the loud characters were all in class 2-A; even Daisuke was in it. Kaneko-san came running into our class in her signature red track suit. She managed to change quickly somehow before club practice but I’m not surprised since she always wore as part of our uniform. She had her blonde hair done up into a ponytail like usual. She was wearing her worn overseas exclusive Masked Avenger pin. She got it from her father when he was on a business trip in the US. Despite being a girl, Mary Kaneko was a bit of a tomboy personality-wise, since she was the first girl I’ve ever met that was interested in the hero stuff. (I’ve outgrown that cringey period of my life). Apparently the pin is her good luck charm. It must be a coincidence.

“Hmph! I’m glad she said no though, otherwise you wouldn’t have time to tutor me anymore! I have to beat the Ice Witch and you’re gonna help me!” pouted Kaneko-san.

“Mary-chan! C’mon we’re gonna be late for practice!” shouted the other track team members outside.

Before I had time to say something witty she ran off like the roadrunner. She’s quicker on her feet than her head.

Last year, our Counselor and (apparently certified) Dr. Mori encouraged (by forcing me) to tutor Kaneko-san when her grades were starting to fall. Since I wasn’t really in any clubs afterschool, I seemed like the perfect candidate to teach Kaneko-san according to Dr. Mori. I just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time. Being the roadrunner track star of the school, it would look bad if our best athlete was all brawn and no brains. Although I may not seem like it, I managed to get consistently high marks on the exams and quizzes. Every day, Kaneko-san and I would study together in order to bring her grades up. Math. English. Literature. We studied it all. It was a pain at first since she can be sort of an airhead, and I’m not exactly the best teacher material either. But, it was good review for me so it was not a total pain.

For the last semester you could say we both got to know each other a little better, since in most circumstances someone of her social order would never interact with someone as low on the ladder as I. Everyone knew about Mary Kaneko, Kasumigaseki High’s “roadrunner” track star that won us the state championships last year. I would see her passing by in the hallways and although we were in the same class last year, we didn’t talk much. She would always be surrounded by an entourage of admirers that followed her every word, laughed at her jokes, and treated her like a queen. Being half-Caucasian further expanded her reputation as a celebrity in our school, like she was the shinning diamond in the rough (until Yuki-san came along). Everyone in our school was watching over her, since we were wondering how high she could achieve, since the bar was getting higher and higher with every time she broke another record in the track meets. Mary was the best candidate that would bring back the “glory days to Kasumigaseki High.” Even in passing I would overhear the teachers saying to her “You’re our star athlete, I hope you keep it up for us!”

The only problem was Mary Kaneko always felt out of my reach, even if she was an airhead. It was hard not to be in awe of someone like her, who worked hard to be where she was. So it was an interesting in a sense for the two of us unlikely people to interact with another. Meeting her for the first time she was loud, obnoxious, and exactly pretty much what I expected. She reminded me a lot of Daisuke, a dummy with a big mouth.

I can’t believe I’m forced to help her. Dr. Mori owes me big time for this!  

         I’m waiting inside one of the open classrooms afterschool for Kaneko-san. Dr. Mori told me to come to one the empty clubrooms in the old building next to our main classroom building. I’m sitting in boredom, and looking at the clock, she’s about 30 minutes late.

         Where’s the roadrunner? Maybe I should leave this stupid thing since she’s not coming.

         I start to pack my things away until the sliding door opens up, and there she was. Mary Kaneko has finally arrived.  

“I don’t need your help you idiot!” yelled Kaneko-san. Since I was forced into this mess, I might as well have fun with it. I needed to put Kaneko-san in her place.

“I don’t want to be here either!” I rebutted.

“You…you shut up!” as her face became a bright red. I could literally see steam coming out of her ears.

She reluctantly heads towards my table and plots her things down onto the table. Upon closer inspection, I notice her pin. It was a worn “Masked Avenger” pin, exclusively from the US. I’m excited, but I can’t let her see my weakness; I was too old for that stuff anyways. This is also first time I had a good look at Kaneko-san up close. She was exactly as what people described her as. She had blonde hair fixed in a pony-tail, blue eyes, and more Caucasian features than I expected. She had big cat-like eyes, that were bright like a child’s was. Although her body was similar to a child, it was petite enough that you could tell she wasn’t a kid. You could say she was cute, until she opens her mouth and started talking.

“Wha…what are you staring at pervert!” said Kaneko-san.

“Uh…nothing! It was just your Masked Avenger Pin. Where did you get it?” I asked.

She calmed down. I breathe a sigh of relief.

I may have been staring too long…

“I got it from my father, when he was on business in the US. I like that kind of stuff even if it is for kids.”

Kaneko-san rubbed her pin slightly, as it was very worn with the paint and plastic shell faded. I’m still surprised she likes that hero stuff, especially being a girl. I look at the clock, and notice that we had to start soon.

“Anyways, since English is somehow your weakest subject, let’s go over that first.” It made no sense since she was half-American. You think that she would have an advantage over all of us, but nope.

“Wha…what do you mean “somehow”? I just forgot to study after all. I can speak it naturally of course but on paper its hard…” she whined. She said some stuff in English under her breath I couldn’t make out since we haven’t been it taught yet.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” Kaneko-san was shocked that I was able to hear her mouse-like whisper. My exceptional hearing was really useful, especially for hearing footsteps sneaking up on my room…

We spent every night going over subjects last year, and by the second semester she improved dramatically. She shoved her first exam that she passed in my face the day she got it back.

“HAHA! I scored a 70! There’s no one that can stop me now!” She let out a rather villainous laugh.

This could get out of hand, I better say something.

“Thanks to my help…”

“Shut up…idiot! But…thank you.” For a second I saw an actual caring girl, but Kaneko-san reverted back to her energetic self.

It was great to see my hard work pay off! Only problem is now she scores higher than me overall in the exams, and she’s not gonna let me forget that anytime soon. I should be proud that the student has become the master, but not with Kaneko-san. I need to try harder to bring her down to Earth.  

It was time to head home. Given what happened today, I told Kaneko-san to reschedule for tomorrow or something.

I just want this day to be over…

I grabbed my old bike that could barely hold together. I’ve tried looking for a part time job, but the school forbids anyone getting a job. The only way to get a job without the school knowing was taking one across town, but that wasn’t the effort for me; I’m not that strapped for cash. It takes about half an hour anyways for me to get home, and I notice the sun is nearly set by the time I head out. My mother told me to stop by the convenience store to pick up some milk on the way home. I managed to spill all the milk today while trying to pour a glass. It managed to slip, somehow. The street lights were already on by the time I made it to the store. I just hoped that there was a least some light on the way home.

It’s getting too dark, I have to take the short cut.

The secret short cut would cut my time in half. Only problem was that it was off road, and passed through the abandoned factory that apparently was haunted. People heard noises, but it was probably some kids messing around or something. Also, it didn’t help that this bike could barely hold itself together.

I’ll bike carefully.

Just kidding. What a rush going downhill and off-road on a bike! It makes me think of when the Masked Avenger rode his motorcycle super-fast to save the day.

“WOO-HOO!”

Now I’ve gotten past the off-road part onto the main road. Just ahead, I could hear noises of what sounded like a bat being hit against cars, and random cat meows.

 Probably some kids messing around. I should bike faster!

The adrenaline was kicking in and I biked even faster making it past the factory in a second. I scream as loudly as I can as my bike goes even faster.

“YUKIIIIIIIII-SANNNNNNNN!!!”

The short catharsis makes a sigh of relief went through my body. I have to slow down a little since there’s a truck going my way. Panic started rushing through me as the brake wasn’t going to be enough to stop me in time.

“Aw crap.”

I hear the carton of milk explode as I’m feeling light-headed…

[thevanishingomens]

Sneak Peak.......

Among The Dead- (Complete remake of Nikki Adams Vs The Zombie Apocalypse) WARNING- May contain mentions of Drugs, Alcohol, Death, Suicide and other scaring things. If you are prone to this then I advise not to read although this chapter doesn't include any of that. PLOT: Zoe "Zo" Miller is the type of girl that could change a room based on her mood, she smiled and the whole world smiled, she cried and the whole world kept silent. She's caught all these years for a place in the world, but when the Zombie apocalypse brakes out and she's looked up to as a leader she wishes she'd never had asked for this. Maxine "Max" Dawson is the type of girl who is misunderstood as a punk who hates everyone when in truth she's the most bubbly and outgoing person in her school. Benji Fredrick is gay and yet he's done something no other gay would have the balls to do, join the American football team. Luna Caulfield originally Greg, is seen as a transvestite. Her humour and kindness makes her have many friends. Except that's all fake, and Luna herself knows that. Celestia Jane is the schools Queen B. For Bitch. She has a bad personality around many and works her way up to an A+ by flirting with teachers. **** After Zoe Miller transfers to a new high school for the last 3 months of highschool she is left in a dead wasteland. After the hyperminus virus was unleashed in November 2015, people around the world have died after weeks of battling the sickness. But as the months move on the sickness takes a tole and people are dying quicker...but coming back as the undead. Zoe is left to defend for herself and her friends. But along the way they stray further apart causing Zoe to make a decision she wouldn't have to do if she just had kept quiet. **** Nicholas "Nikki" Adams is a head strong 18 year old. His single mum remarried to a man who had two younger children. He's never gotten along with them but when the zombie apocalypse brakes out and their parents aren't there to protect them Nikki swears in his life that he'll keep the kids alive. Meaning he'd do everything and anything -like joining one of the most renowned bandit group in America. Where he meets Zoe Miller. And everything changes. For better or worse, this is a Zombie Apocalypse..... WORD COUNT- 4589 CHAPTER 1--- It was dark. Not pitch black. But dark enough that Zoe Miller couldn't see what was reality and what was her imagination. Was everything in front of her a dream? A nightmare? A dark tunnel. Road separations. Concrete and asphalt broken. Cars stripped and parked. They've been there for ages, for years. From when it all began. At the end of the tunnel a lights, as if God was standing there. They stood before her. Waiting. Gnarling and groaning incoherently. Zoe breathed slowly and quietly. Frozen as if not to alarm them. Her right hand hovering over her holster which held a 9mm silver Beretta gun. On the left side another gun, an exact replica of the Beretta. She had other holsters going down her right leg, containing either guns or different types of daggers. On her back, holstered onto her was a black Katana sword and a machete. Her black skinny jeans were ripped. What used to be her white tee was now a mixture of grey from dirt and red from all the blood from those monsters whom she had previously caught her way through. Her black hoodie jacket, unzipped, had seen some better days. It was 4 sizes too big but warm for cold days and practical. Her combat boots, muddy and worn out. Her long white bleached hair up in a high ponytail, covered in dry blood and muck, dirty from going a week without a shower. Her face dirty, unwashed and covered with blood.  She looked like one of them, smelt like one of them. Zoe stood looking like a mess. Prepared for the herd of Zombies ahead of her, at least that's what she had in mind. Surviving. Zoe would take a big chance grabbing her gun and shooting her way out, but getting her sword out would take precision and could alarm them to move. But just as she sat her hand down and grabbed onto her gun, someone began shooting a machine gun, hitting everything in front of her. Other guns going off as well as some grenades. Zoe jumped to the ground, her gun out and waiting to see what it was. A group of men came down, cleared out all the herd before pulling them away from the road, other cars that had broken down from the start were scattered around the road, they had a big military truck with them. Just as Zoe got on her knees and began to squat to make a get away she heard a gun click its safety and then press up against her head. Zoe lifted her hands in defeat after holstering her gun back. "Don't shoot" Zoe pleaded in a monotone voice. "What's your name kid?" A mans voice asked. "Zoe. Zoe Miller" Zoe stated as she sat her hands behind her head in surrender. The man lowered his gun behind Zoe, grabbed her arm and helped her up. "Well Zoe Miller. I'm Benji...Benji Frederick" the man said with a slight happy tone, Zoe immediately turned around to see the man take a mask and goggles off to show a young dashing man. With a brown quiff of hair and dark green eyes. He let out a smile as Zoe's eyes widened. "Benji" Zoe mumbled before jumping into a tight hug with the man. "Good to see you Zo" Benji said as he hugged Zoe back with a warm heart. They let go just as the group of men huddled around them. "Who is this? A survivor? You know each other?" A man asked, he had goggles on but no mask, he took them off to stare Zoe up and down. "She's a friend of mine. From High-school. We haven't seen each other in a long time" Benji said as he patted Zoe on the shoulder as reassurance. Zoe gave a laugh. "You used to be the quarter back. Does that come in handy now?" Zoe asked as a joke, she was applauded with laughs from the men. "Actually it does. Anyway you should come with us. I haven't seen you in- well since you know...you'd love to see our little place. A valley up North. Walls and fences up. Guards. Food, water and shelter. Besides, you should see who's there" Benji said as a way to persuade Zoe to follow him, go and stay with them. "I don't think it would be a good idea considering-" "Nah it's alright. We have enough shelter and necessities for you. It would be good for you to be social. Besides the more the merrier, right?" The man who had taken the goggles off said, he gave a smile and a kind gesture towards their military truck. "I'm Joel by the way. Second in hand of our group. And also father of these three. Mariana, Julio and Gabriel" the man said, he had a slight Mexican accent as he gestured towards the three beside him. They took the masks off to unveil a lovely smiling lady with short hair and tanned skin, she was in between two young men, older than her. One was taller than the other, with black hair and brown eyes, with a beard, that was Julio, the oldest. The other had short brown hair and brown eyes, tanned like the others, with some stubble. Gabriel, the youngest of the three, same age as Zoe. He clearly had his eyes checking out Zoe, but in a sweet and non sexual way. Zoe waved them hello. "We have time for introductions later. We should probably leave now before more of them come. Let's go" Joel said gesturing for everyone to quickly get in the truck after noticing about 15 of them start walking in. The men were getting ready to leave when they heard tiny footsteps and crying. "Zeze?" (pronounced zeezee) a young child's voice asked out into the tunnel, they all turned around to see a 2 year old, wearing light blue and dark blue overall pyjamas that had white stars on it. The child stood with a small white blanket and a dummy in his mouth. "hey...Ash, come here buddy" Zoe said, beckoning the child to come over to her, the child began to slowly make his way over. "You have a kid?" Benji asked looking down at Zoe as she took the little boy into her arms. Zoe gave a chuckle as she slightly shrugged, pulling baby Ash closer into her arms. "Long story" Zoe replied. "Well good thing we have a lot of time in our hands now" Joel said, once again offering a ride, gesturing the others to get in as well, Zoe gave a nod. They all got in. Zoe in between Benji and Gabriel with Ash still in her arms. The tunnel was long and dark. Zoe had been there for so long that when they got to the end of the tunnel, light shimmering in from the morning sun she was surprised. After getting under the sun fully Zoe was squinting her eyes. She took a deep breath in of the clear air and then let it all out in a sigh. It was warm, she felt warm, as if the sun had had given her a hug itself. Although that would burn her to death, melt her but still....warm like a hug. As the truck made its way down the high way through the countryside. The ride was bumpy. Zoe could hear the birds chirping. The sounds, the sights and smells began to make Zoe's head turn. Make her dizzy and her vision blurry. She began to sway left and right until- It stopped. **** When she opened her eyes she was back to that day. The day it happened. It had started months before, but over the course of time it worsened. So much that on that day there was nothing they could do. They were just high school students. They were just there to learn. Zoe wearing black skinny jeans, a grey denim crop top with a loose black tank top over. A camouflage hoodie jacket wrapped around her waist. Combat boots given to her from her commanding officer as a present when she was in training. Her white bleached hair wavy and down to her back. Her makeup done to perfection yet her posture laid back, with a black leather backpack on. "Hey do you hear me?" A young woman's voice said as she tapped Zoe's shoulder. Zoe looked down to see her shorter friend Max Dawson. Max's hair was a light brown colour, put into a messy bun. Her eyes matched her hair but with a swirl of a caramel fudge colour. Her makeup also done, yet she was dressed laid back as well. Black skinny jeans, a band tee and a GOT hoodie over it, with some vans on. "What? Sorry I was...daydreaming" Zoe replied with a small smile, Max shrugged, "what were you saying anyway?" Zoe asked. "I was saying...i can't believe you decided to leave me to go on a date with Zach!" Max exclaimed. The school had been quiet for weeks, lesser pupals came in ever day. So much that today it was almost empty, the school felt haunted to the girls. They were dreary. "It wasn't a date. We went to the cinema and then had pizza over at Bubba's" Zoe said, she immediately stopped herself to think. "Never-mind. It does sound like a date. But believe me I didn't think it was a date" Zoe said with a shrug and a laugh. Max kept quiet until she looked up at Zoe. "What does Zach have that I don't?" Max asked Zoe. Zoe thought for a bit until a grin escaped her mouth and she answered. "A dick" Zoe said causing Max to playfully punch her arm, "no but seriously let's drop this. Onto more important news- where is everyone?" ...... "Zo?" Benji's voice asked, Zoe was knocked out, she sat in the truck unconscious. Ash wasn't in her arms anymore but instead in Mariana's arms. "Where..am i?" Zoe asked, gaining consciousness. She lifted her head up, her eyes gradually opening more, she locked eyes with Ash's worried eyes and she gave him a grin. "We're here. Our safe place" Benji said with a grin. Zoe straightened up and began to look out the military truck with a stretch, she locked eyes on the tall guarded walls and the main gate. Fences surrounding the walls, barbed wire everywhere. This place was fortified. But for how long? Zoe took Ash back into her hands, along with her backpack that Ash had dragged along with him when he appeared in the tunnel. Whatever this was, it was better than where she had been before. Those memories would stay with her forever. Benji held Zoe's hand as he helped her and Ash get down from the truck, he held a rifle up for any close by Zombies. Zoe had one of her Beretta's out, aimed and ready to fire. As they made their way up to the gate Zoe fired her handgun, getting perfect headshots on all Zombies she aimed at. The men with her and Benji looked at her in awe as she fired repeatedly never missing. She was soon out of bullets but that didn't seem to bother her as she holstered her gun back into its place and instead took a dagger out. She kicked zombies in the knee and then used the dagger to stab them in the head. "You're good. Good shot" Gabriel said to Zoe as he walked over to her with his gun aimed at a Zombie beside her. He shot. Zoe put her dagger back. "Mhm. I had lots of practice" Zoe said walking away behind Benji. Gabriel followed them, still shooting along with the others. Benji signalled the men up at the top of the wall to open the gate. They did. Benji sat his hand on Zoe's back as a way to drag her along with him. Zoe walked, holding the scared and quiet Ash in her arms. "Gabe go get our leader" Benji ordered. Gabriel nodded walking off with rifle in hand and Mariana beside him. Joel patted Zoe in the back before walking away. The gates were closed. Inside the walls were yards of cabins and small shops. Some tents and medical offices were put up. Military personnel stationed at the top of the wall with state of the art guns and weapons, others stationed around the small valley surrounded by woods outside the wall. "Benji. I see you brought us some more people-" There stood before Zoe was someone she thought she'd never see again. Wearing black skinny jeans, black tank top and yellow leather jacket, with holsters and weapons attached to her. Her brown hair in a messy bun. Her eyes widened looking at Zoe. There stood before Zoe was Max Dawson, her old best friend. "Max" Zoe stated. "Zoe" Max stated. She wasn't amused. But once she locked eyes on the small child in Zoe's arms. With a blanket around him and his eyes terrified she could only feel pity for them. "Benji what do-" "I'm not staying don't worry" Zoe said cutting Max off, "I just need some baby formula and a place for the night. I'll leave early morning tomorrow" Zoe stated. Max was surprised. "Why won't you stay?" Benji asked, he looked over at Max with a pleading look. Silently begging her to let Zoe stay. "I don't want to cause any trouble...besides- I have to go back. I need to get some people" Zoe said looking at Max. Max gave Zoe a glare. "Your new group I assume?" Max asked bitterly, her hands on her hips. "No. The father of the child, his step dad and his step siblings" Zoe said. Max raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "How many?" Max asked. "Woah Max you're not doing this right? It's Zoe! We can help her and her group out. At least for a few days. What if someone is hurt?" Benji said worried as he grabbed hold of Max's arm. Max pulled her arm away from Benji. "How many" Max repeated. "6. Including me and Ash, it's 6" Zoe stated with a sigh. "We don't have room" Max stated about to walk away. "Max! We have yards of land that aren't being used! It's Zoe" Benji exclaimed. "Even more reason not to let her in. You want baby formula? We can set you up with a duffle bag with meds, water and food but you can't stay" Max said pulling away from Benji once more before taking a step forward. She stopped once she heard Zoe chuckle. "I don't even know why I thought you'd have changed over time? You know- while you've been hating my guts about something that happened 5 years ago, I've been wondering if any of you have been alive. I looked for you everyday for a year around the whole world after you kicked me out, left me behind. You left me to die and instead of hating your guts, I went to look for you to try and ask you to be my friend again. But I see that it takes more than an apology for you. So what do you want?" Zoe stated. "I'm not asking this as a way to let me stay here. But I would like to know. Why?" Zoe asked, she held Ash closer to her heart. "You were going to get us killed. All that was in your head was finding your dad to find a cure. And when you found him you nearly died because of him. You protected us, you did! But you're reasoning of always being tough was just going to get us killed. You're stubborn and always risk your life. And when we got to Jeffersons. We wanted to stay. It was safe and it was going to be safe for a long time. But you just had to screw Jefferson over. Find all his flaws" Max said. She was feeling a lot of emotions, most of them anger. "I haven't gotten myself killed yet" Zoe said with a chuckle. That only made Max angrier. "Look. I get that i'm rash and make stupid decisions. Keeping you guys safe was my priority, it always has been. The me being too tough is just another one of your excuses. You know the real reason you kicked me out is because I'm one of them, we never knew what would happen and you were afraid I'd turn. That I was a danger. You were afraid, and you still are. Not because there's a possibility I'll turn and hurt the people you care about but because there could be a possibility of you dying" Zoe said, she looked down ashamed. "You know that's not-" "You can stay the night. Tomorrow morning we go get the rest of your people. Bring them back and help you out. But then you can leave. Alright?" Benji said cutting Max off. "Benji what are you doing? You don't lead this valley!" Max exclaimed. "I don't. But neither should you. You're just like Jefferson. Zoe, follow me. I'm still humane" Benji said as he sat his hand on Zoe's back and gently pulled her along. Leaving a furious Max behind with her fists tightened. **** "You're all stitched up now" Benji said as he finished using the needle and thread to stitch up a deep gash on Zoe's torso. She had been stitched and her wounds cleaned. "How about you and Mr. Ash here go take a shower. Make yourselves at home. This may be my cabin but it's also yours now" Benji said as he began to grab all the medical tools and cleaning tools he had used. "Benji" Zoe said as she grabbed Benji's hand, "thank you" she replied in a mumble as she leaned in for a hug. Benji smiled before walking away to the kitchen leaving Zoe to grab the extra clothes Benji prepared for her. ...... "How are you feeling now?" Benji asked sitting from the dinning room table. The table set out for him, Zoe and Ash to eat. Zoe had come back from a refreshing bath with Ash. Ash was changed into some new overalls, while Zoe was stood before in red shorts and a black tank top. It was a warm day and an even hotter night. Zoe had her black hoodie jacket tied around her waist. She sat Ash in the kids seat, her plate was full with the stew Benji had prepared. Ash had some on his plate but only enough that would fit him. He immediately grabbed hold of the kids spoon and began to eat with a smile. Zoe looked at Ash until she snapped from a trance and began to eat. Her hair was back into a high ponytail. Benji was still wearing the black skinny jeans and tee, his rifle strapped to his back and holsters on his waist holding guns, daggers and even a crowbar. They looked like a family, peacefully eating in the dimmed cabin light as if the apocalypse wasn't happening just outside. After the meal they all went to bed, Benji was in his bedroom putting ammo into his guns before finally going to sleep. Zoe laid Ash in the crib Benji had gotten them, she sang one special song to ash to make him fall asleep. Once her task was done she flopped onto the bed and looked at look at her leather bag which was filled with clothes for her and Ash, along with a book and pen, some photos and a purse with money and an Iphone. Her old stuff all kept as memories. The Iphone was turned off the day it happened, she would turn it on some days and look over the photos she had. She preserved the battery. She hadn't looked at her phone in 2 years. All her holsters and weapons were on the ground next to her bag. Except for a dagger under her pillow and a metal bat next to her as a precaution. Zoe was tired, so tired that her eyes began to flutter. Becoming heavy with sleep. She closed them with a deep breath and it was all so calm.... **** Zoe could hear voices. Mumbling and ranting. She couldn't make out what they were saying, it was all black until she heard fingers clicking at her ears. "Hey do you hear me?" A young woman's voice said as she tapped Zoe's shoulder. Zoe looked down to see her shorter friend Max Dawson. Max's hair was a light brown colour, put into a messy bun. Her eyes matched her hair but with a swirl of a caramel fudge colour. Her makeup also done, yet she was dressed laid back as well. Black skinny jeans, a band tee and a GOT hoodie over it, with some vans on. "What? Sorry I was...daydreaming" Zoe replied with a small smile, Max shrugged, "what were you saying anyway?" Zoe asked. She felt as though she'd seen this before. Heard this before. Deja vu? "I was saying...i can't believe you decided to leave me to go on a date with Zach!" Max exclaimed. The school had been quiet for weeks, lesser pupals came in ever day. So much that today it was almost empty, the school felt haunted to the girls. They were dreary. Zoe looked into classrooms to notice about 5 people in every room. Zach, that's all we talk about nowadays, Zoe thought. "It wasn't a date. We went to the cinema and then had pizza over at Bubba's" Zoe said, immediately stopping herself. "Never-mind. It does sound like a date. But believe me I didn't think it was a date" Zoe said with a shrug and a laugh. Max kept quiet until she looked up at Zoe. Zoe remembered the so called date with Zach, they ate and talked. Talked for hours about everything and anything. About her past and about her friendships but never about Zach. "What does Zach have that I don't?" Max asked Zoe. Zoe thought for a bit until a grin escaped her mouth and she answered. "A dick" Zoe said causing Max to playfully punch her arm, "no but seriously let's drop this. Onto more important news- where is everyone?" Zoe asked. "Maybe its the virus?" Max said with a shrug. "I'd laugh if it was zombies" Zoe stated with a snort, Max playfully punched her arm before both began to walk as Max explained the plot of the latest Game Of Thrones episode. They had been talking while walking through the hallways of their school and yet what used to be full packed was now an empty hallway. Only 7 pupils had walked past them, and one janitor. They all looked sickly. In the west wing of the school it was packed with students. Anyone that was in was out in the west wing, no sense in scattering them around so all classes were going to be held there. As Zoe and Max were making their way to their class they passed by a girl on the ground groaning, her skin was turning dark grey and her veins a visible dark purple. Blood was dripping from her eyes, ears, nose and mouth. She looked up with pain at Zoe and Max. "Woah you ok?" Max asked as her and Zoe squatted beside the girl trying help her up. "I....don't feel so good" the girl replied before puking up dark, semi dried blood. She was left with her head dangling low and trembling. "Is this that virus?" Zoe asked the girl, she didn't reply but groaned lowly. "Hey can you hear us?" Max asked shaking the girl. The girl groaned once more before jumping into Max trying to bite her, in a hurry Zoe grabbed hold of the girls head pulled her away and then slammed her head against the wall leaving them enough time to run away. "You alright?" Zoe asked as they ran. "Yeah, she just scared me" Max said as they halted to a stop at the door of their class, talking and gossip was heard from the room. They opened the door panting before getting in to greet their class and teacher. "Sorry we're late. A girl in the hallway was acting out and jumped on Max" Zoe said, the teacher let them sit. "If it's the girl I think then I hope you're alright. She bit me 5 minutes ago" the teacher said as she showed the bite mark. Zoe looked at her skeptical, she shrugged it off before sitting at her seat and looking out the window. Noticing smoke of nearby houses or buildings in the far off in the city. In the campus slowly limping around were students, Zoe found it odd so she kept her eyes on one and focused on him. Looking him from toes to head, she looked at his face closely and noticed it looked burnt. His skin was flaking and he looked as if he was decaying. And that's when it all hit her. "Zombies" Zoe mumbled to herself when suddenly the teacher stumbled to the ground, shaking viciously as if having a stroke, foam leaving her mouth and her eyes rolling up with blood dripping out like tears out of her eyes, ears, nose and mouth. The students began to panic, one slowly made his way over while others tried calling an ambulance but to no avail there was no service. The ground began to shake when bombs went off at the school. Zoe saw the military trucks arriving at the campus with rifles and any weapons. Using rpg's to fire bombs at the school. Fire began to spread. The city was in flames and that's when she noticed the herd of dead flowing in and out of her school. People in her class began dropping dead like their teacher, the teacher began to groan after seconds of being still. The boy who was beside her bent down to hear her breathing when suddenly she grabbed his head and chomped down on his neck, ripping it and beginning to devour the kid. Others who weren't on the ground ran out of the room only to be encountered with more of the dead. Some made it pass the herd but others were immediately eaten. Zoe and Max stood there before hearing a scream from behind. Their classmates Celeste and Luna were being cornered, infected were ready to pounce when Benji, the schools quarterback slammed a metal chair against the first 2 in the herd. Celeste and Luna ran down to Zoe and Max after Zoe yelled for them too. Benji ran back to them. "Gimme a chair" Zoe asked as she started to panic, the dead coming closer. Benji handed Zoe another metal chair, she held it all the way back before she flung it against the window smashing it to a million pieces. Zoe jumped out the window, Max and the others followed her. She noticed one of the metal legs from the chair snapped off due to an unscrewed screw. Zoe grabbed hold of the metal leg before looking out at the scenery. The whole world around them burning to the ground. The sky turning grey, flames everywhere. Dead people walking while others were being eaten. Rifles, handguns and shotguns going off. An apocalypse was brewing... ****THE END**** (Please no stealing) If you guys enjoyed it then please leave feed back as I would love to hear if I could change anything? 💕Much Love....Bye💕