"Hey, how're you?"
...
"I'm all good, yeah. How you holding up?"
...
"Right. You just saw that thing with Connor's dad, right?"
...
"Yeah. I think we need to talk, right away."
...
"Blue House Cafe and Diner?"
...
"Alright, see you soon."
--
((Kayden Brockman, Meanwhile...))
In a profound twist of irony, Kayden Brockman was now more involved with the student body than he'd been since Swiftball. Ever since how the situation with Lorenzo ended, he'd skipped nearly everything he didn't need to attend, and that included the trip. He went with his moms to Nashville for the week, since Kendra was going there on business anyway, and to take his mind off of everyone, bought enough frivolous shit to bump himself ahead of the Koch Brothers when the revolution came. When he came back, he couldn't even muster the energy to get on Grindr, and when the bus didn't come back and the dreaded news reports started coming in, he was suddenly aware of everyone moving around him.
Facebook feeds lost their jokes, and were nothing but memorials and attempts at clout from people who'd never done anything in their life before. Kayden's own wall had been blank for months now, to the point that several people who were now missing had posted on it asking if he was still alive. People were suddenly messaging him asking him if he wanted to "talk", which in reality meant "I want you to tell me all you remember about the football team so I can write something self-serving on Instagram and get likes". And Kayden would have been down with receiving the clout had it not been so obvious that was what they were doing.
At least Connor's dad was upfront about the fact he only cared about his own. And in a remarkable sense of cosmic humour, that was why he was now sitting in the corner booth of The Blue House Cafe and Diner, waiting to meet Lavender Ripley.
When he first saw what happened, he was taken aback at the blazen selfishness. He couldn't pretend that if pushed, his parents wouldn't do the exact same thing, but to actually come out and do it...it was a lot. And then he got to thinking, and started pouring over the handy lists of his missing classmates, comparing it to his yearbook and anything he could find on the school website, and all signs pointed to one person, who he called, chatted briefly with, and was now meeting for something very important.
What he was about to do, what he was about to suggest to Lavender, it's something that, if it worked, would probably land him dead if any of the people in question came back. Legitimately, if anyone in question managed to kill their way off the island and back to Chattanooga, and Kayden was in a room with them and no witnesses, they would probably kill Kayden. But that was a problem for a month from now, when Kayden was figuring out what he needed to pack for college. It was also going to be a problem for the person he ran this by, because he couldn't do it alone. But when in doubt, the blame could just come back to him, as it always tended to whenever he overstepped his bounds.
So Kayden waited in the booth until Lavender came, nursing the expensive coffee in his hands and occasionally checking his phone.
We Go High
June 10th, afternoon, an unlikely meeting
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
...
"I'm doing, well, I'm healthy. I'm here. It's something. You?"
...
"You know, it's... I don't know. I tell myself I'll be okay. So many people have it worse."
...
"Yeah. Yeah, I saw it. It was... I don't know. I can hardly believe it."
...
"I'm on my way. Where's good for you?"
...
"Great. Sounds great. I'll get going right now, just have to tell my folks."
((Lavender Ripley continued from [the unfinished] Ms. Ripley, You Are Thanked And Excused))
For some time now, the world had felt like it was moving both in slow motion and at the speed of light. It was tempting to go broad with it, go back to the root of all evil, November 8, 2016, the day the universe became a slightly darker place. There was a reason people online kept saying "This week's been the longest year of my life," and Lavender felt it, she really did, but there was more to it. It wasn't senior year, wasn't the past few months, wasn't the string of disasters and disappointments and moments that felt like they meant everything while they were happening and nothing just as soon as they were done. No, the place where she could truly draw the line was May 9, 2018, two weeks and change before Prom, another week before most of her classmates departed on what turned out to be their final adventure. Sometimes, during that month or so, it had felt like the elapsed time dwarfed the entire rest of her life.
Somehow, the past few days felt even longer, with the greatest single increment of time being the drive to the Blue House.
And yet, when she arrived, she did not immediately run the perimeter searching for the boy she was here to meet, the boy she knew in some ways and in others didn't. He was on the football team. She was a cheerleader. He was openly gay, concerned with the various horrible ways society treated the LGBT+ community. She was a member of the GSA, and the president of the activist club (for all the good that had ever done anyone). They both ran in the party scene, both abhorred bullying, both were, she thought, often misunderstood. But for all that, did she really have a clear concept of the person Kayden Brockman was? Could she begin to guess how what had transpired had reshaped his being? She didn't think so. She'd be surprised indeed if he wasn't in a similar position.
Still, here they were. Lavender ordered her Italian soda, paid, took a long sip, stirred, took another, and only then made her way to where he waited. As always these days, it felt imperceptible yet interminable. She knew this was not a social call. She hadn't yet pieced together his purpose, but it had to be serious. She'd heard his tone, and she'd dropped everything (not that she'd had very much to drop) to make her way here, and now, finally, she was sliding into the booth opposite him.
She was glad they weren't at the tables. That would've brought back too much, memories of another meeting with another classmate not so very long ago, one which would never be repeated.
"Hey," Lavender said. "Sorry that took a little. Thank you for having me."
"I'm doing, well, I'm healthy. I'm here. It's something. You?"
...
"You know, it's... I don't know. I tell myself I'll be okay. So many people have it worse."
...
"Yeah. Yeah, I saw it. It was... I don't know. I can hardly believe it."
...
"I'm on my way. Where's good for you?"
...
"Great. Sounds great. I'll get going right now, just have to tell my folks."
((Lavender Ripley continued from [the unfinished] Ms. Ripley, You Are Thanked And Excused))
For some time now, the world had felt like it was moving both in slow motion and at the speed of light. It was tempting to go broad with it, go back to the root of all evil, November 8, 2016, the day the universe became a slightly darker place. There was a reason people online kept saying "This week's been the longest year of my life," and Lavender felt it, she really did, but there was more to it. It wasn't senior year, wasn't the past few months, wasn't the string of disasters and disappointments and moments that felt like they meant everything while they were happening and nothing just as soon as they were done. No, the place where she could truly draw the line was May 9, 2018, two weeks and change before Prom, another week before most of her classmates departed on what turned out to be their final adventure. Sometimes, during that month or so, it had felt like the elapsed time dwarfed the entire rest of her life.
Somehow, the past few days felt even longer, with the greatest single increment of time being the drive to the Blue House.
And yet, when she arrived, she did not immediately run the perimeter searching for the boy she was here to meet, the boy she knew in some ways and in others didn't. He was on the football team. She was a cheerleader. He was openly gay, concerned with the various horrible ways society treated the LGBT+ community. She was a member of the GSA, and the president of the activist club (for all the good that had ever done anyone). They both ran in the party scene, both abhorred bullying, both were, she thought, often misunderstood. But for all that, did she really have a clear concept of the person Kayden Brockman was? Could she begin to guess how what had transpired had reshaped his being? She didn't think so. She'd be surprised indeed if he wasn't in a similar position.
Still, here they were. Lavender ordered her Italian soda, paid, took a long sip, stirred, took another, and only then made her way to where he waited. As always these days, it felt imperceptible yet interminable. She knew this was not a social call. She hadn't yet pieced together his purpose, but it had to be serious. She'd heard his tone, and she'd dropped everything (not that she'd had very much to drop) to make her way here, and now, finally, she was sliding into the booth opposite him.
She was glad they weren't at the tables. That would've brought back too much, memories of another meeting with another classmate not so very long ago, one which would never be repeated.
"Hey," Lavender said. "Sorry that took a little. Thank you for having me."
The moment Kayden looked up from his phone and saw Lavender walking towards him, he realized he hadn't figured out how he was going to phrase the pitch.
It was all well and good to have the idea, and it was well-er and good-er to know exactly who to sell the stakes to. But Kayden wasn't doing a monologue in class, or preparing for an essay, or meeting rich people at one of his mom's work functions or being wined and dined from a guy on Grindr. The idea involved dead people, real world implications, and stepping up into a place of authority that was reserved for the people gone. Knowing that finding the most senior member of student council left, figuring out her likely place in the coming days, figuring out his own place in the coming days, and putting the two together was only half the battle, he first had to make sure he wasn't suddenly becoming evil.
He could handle his own evil, though. He didn't perish the thought of suddenly becoming evil, not just because he knew he could never be evil since evil people were boring and Kayden was never boring. If he was evil, then so be it, but if he sounded evil it made it less likely to have help. A lot of his classmates were evil, like the alt-right future mass murderers and the various pieces of horseshit he'd teamed with for the past several years who sapped every last bit of kindness from him until he was nothing but a defiant survival instinct with muscles, brows, and a good haircut. As far as Kayden could tell, Lavender Ripley was not evil, and that made things difficult, since her lack of apparent evil was the reason they were there.
Social courtesy meant he could probably get away with not going into the plan that quickly, though. He nodded when she slid into her seat, and he put his phone back into his pocket.
"No problem, thanks for coming."
Short pause. Not awkward, but pregnant.
"I'm still trying to wrap my head around what Connor's dad just did. The fucking gall."
Kayden took a sip from his coffee. It tasted expensive enough, like the guy who sold it had sent just enough farmers into destitution, but not too many.
It was all well and good to have the idea, and it was well-er and good-er to know exactly who to sell the stakes to. But Kayden wasn't doing a monologue in class, or preparing for an essay, or meeting rich people at one of his mom's work functions or being wined and dined from a guy on Grindr. The idea involved dead people, real world implications, and stepping up into a place of authority that was reserved for the people gone. Knowing that finding the most senior member of student council left, figuring out her likely place in the coming days, figuring out his own place in the coming days, and putting the two together was only half the battle, he first had to make sure he wasn't suddenly becoming evil.
He could handle his own evil, though. He didn't perish the thought of suddenly becoming evil, not just because he knew he could never be evil since evil people were boring and Kayden was never boring. If he was evil, then so be it, but if he sounded evil it made it less likely to have help. A lot of his classmates were evil, like the alt-right future mass murderers and the various pieces of horseshit he'd teamed with for the past several years who sapped every last bit of kindness from him until he was nothing but a defiant survival instinct with muscles, brows, and a good haircut. As far as Kayden could tell, Lavender Ripley was not evil, and that made things difficult, since her lack of apparent evil was the reason they were there.
Social courtesy meant he could probably get away with not going into the plan that quickly, though. He nodded when she slid into her seat, and he put his phone back into his pocket.
"No problem, thanks for coming."
Short pause. Not awkward, but pregnant.
"I'm still trying to wrap my head around what Connor's dad just did. The fucking gall."
Kayden took a sip from his coffee. It tasted expensive enough, like the guy who sold it had sent just enough farmers into destitution, but not too many.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Lavender smiled, nodded, and stifled her impulse to respond with further verbal niceties of her own, as that risked sending them down a spiral of pointless pleasantries. It wasn't that she had any negative feelings towards Kayden, or even that process on a grander ideological level, but given the circumstances that brought them together, to do so would feel particularly callous and pointless. Lavender took a sip of her soda. It was delicious, and she was well aware that many of her friends and former lovers and longstanding ideological rivals were right now at this very moment choking on their own blood, never again to have anything as nice as this simple thing she was enjoying. She didn't quite feel the whole weight of that yet, couldn't, but on an intellectual level she knew and in light of that many things felt different than they had days ago.
And of course, there was no escaping the shadow of the Lorenzens and their press conference. Kayden sounded just like what he said he was feeling. Lavender empathized, but not just with the boy across from her.
"Mm," she said, casting her gaze around the inside of the Blue House as she did so. She wasn't really afraid of Connor's family. Maybe that was foolish, but what could they really do to her? They were rich, but what did that matter? They were connected, socially and politically powerful, but not to the degree that they thought and not in the ways they needed to be, and Lavender already had enemies of her own just due to who she was and who her parents were.
Connor had never been one of those enemies.
The boy had his flaws, that was for sure. He was firmly ensconced in the Southern male paradigm, and he breathed privilege without quite enough awareness of that fact or willingness to leverage it to righteous ends, but for that he wasn't that bad. He was not himself a chauvinist, from what Lavender had seen. He treated others decently and with respect, even those outside his own circles. She'd cast her vote behind him for Prom King, and granted it had been a tactical vote, one aimed at pushing a likely and comparatively inoffensive candidate over the myriad worse options, but she hadn't been revolted to see him crowned. His worst trait was his taste in friends; there was only so much benefit of the doubt to extend to one who fraternized constantly and cheerfully with bullies and bigots, and yet...
Well, look at one of the pair who Lavender had called captain. Enthusiastically? Hell no. But she was a cheerleader, was forced into contact with those same problematic elements, and if she didn't embrace them with open arms the way Connor did, she kept a polite smile at least while on official business and didn't let her disgust be too explicitly known. And, of course, she had a friend or two with whom she just didn't talk too much about certain political matters of disagreement.
Had a friend? Had had a friend, now.
Connor's folks weren't hanging out in the cafe, to her lack of surprise. Nobody was paying too much attention to her and Kayden. She felt somehow more furtive about this than she had discussing the creation of pornography here not so long ago.
"I can hardly believe it," she said. "It makes me want to, to..."
It wasn't that she didn't have words for her feelings. She wasn't even entirely certain what her feelings were.
"But," she continued, quieter now, "at the same time?
"If it worked, I think I'd have to forgive them."
And of course, there was no escaping the shadow of the Lorenzens and their press conference. Kayden sounded just like what he said he was feeling. Lavender empathized, but not just with the boy across from her.
"Mm," she said, casting her gaze around the inside of the Blue House as she did so. She wasn't really afraid of Connor's family. Maybe that was foolish, but what could they really do to her? They were rich, but what did that matter? They were connected, socially and politically powerful, but not to the degree that they thought and not in the ways they needed to be, and Lavender already had enemies of her own just due to who she was and who her parents were.
Connor had never been one of those enemies.
The boy had his flaws, that was for sure. He was firmly ensconced in the Southern male paradigm, and he breathed privilege without quite enough awareness of that fact or willingness to leverage it to righteous ends, but for that he wasn't that bad. He was not himself a chauvinist, from what Lavender had seen. He treated others decently and with respect, even those outside his own circles. She'd cast her vote behind him for Prom King, and granted it had been a tactical vote, one aimed at pushing a likely and comparatively inoffensive candidate over the myriad worse options, but she hadn't been revolted to see him crowned. His worst trait was his taste in friends; there was only so much benefit of the doubt to extend to one who fraternized constantly and cheerfully with bullies and bigots, and yet...
Well, look at one of the pair who Lavender had called captain. Enthusiastically? Hell no. But she was a cheerleader, was forced into contact with those same problematic elements, and if she didn't embrace them with open arms the way Connor did, she kept a polite smile at least while on official business and didn't let her disgust be too explicitly known. And, of course, she had a friend or two with whom she just didn't talk too much about certain political matters of disagreement.
Had a friend? Had had a friend, now.
Connor's folks weren't hanging out in the cafe, to her lack of surprise. Nobody was paying too much attention to her and Kayden. She felt somehow more furtive about this than she had discussing the creation of pornography here not so long ago.
"I can hardly believe it," she said. "It makes me want to, to..."
It wasn't that she didn't have words for her feelings. She wasn't even entirely certain what her feelings were.
"But," she continued, quieter now, "at the same time?
"If it worked, I think I'd have to forgive them."
"Nope."
Kayden didn't really have an answer other than that. His tone shifted slightly.
"Not me. That's all I'll say on that."
He wanted to say a lot more. He could have said, for one thing, he didn't root for the success of rich straight white boys like Connor. Not then, not now, not ever. The world's already on easy mode for them, why should he be relieved Connor's family could buy his way out of a terrorist attack? It probably wasn't what Lavender meant, but Kayden wasn't exactly someone who saw subtleties, or intricacies other than the ones that pertained to him.
The question of the power of the Lorenzen family raised another question, one which he was so close to just blurting out to Lavender right then and there - if his family was really that powerful, that rich, then what was Connor's excuse for hanging Kayden out to dry for all those years? The shit he had to put up with from everyone else? No fucking excuse. He had to spent years on years with the Carters and other bunches of animal shit, taking all kinds of hell from them for nearly every second he had the uniform on, for having the balls to be who he was, and every waking moment Kayden was looking for help.
And yeah, he got help, sometimes - Dean was good with Kayden, Ace liked Kayden, Connor stood up for Kayden sometimes. But they never stopped it. Kayden just wasn't worth taking on Wyatt, or Bret, or the others, or both. They were always worth more than Kayden, so...those were the breaks. And if all this time, Connor's family could have pulled some big stunt like that, made some sort of fucking impact, done something to the people at George Hunter High School who had to put up with...y'know, all of that? No. No way. Not today, Satan, not today.
Kayden took another sip from his coffee. He felt his heart racing in his chest, even though he hadn't even said 80% of what he was thinking. All of the thoughts running through his head could have been launched at Lavender, but it wouldn't have solved anything. He would have looked rabid, insane. He was beginning to become aware that if he went down this path, he would never really be able to say half of what he was thinking ever again.
"I suppose that's part of why I called you. I mean, not to have a big ol' smart discussion about ethics or whatever, but...okay, I guess it's kind of that."
This was probably the first part of growing up.
"I was hoping you could help me do something. Like, I'm the most senior member of the football team left, and you're the most senior member of student council left, so...I suppose once shit starts getting real around here, we're gonna be expected to do some stuff. Like, y'know, when news vans start popping up."
Kayden didn't really have an answer other than that. His tone shifted slightly.
"Not me. That's all I'll say on that."
He wanted to say a lot more. He could have said, for one thing, he didn't root for the success of rich straight white boys like Connor. Not then, not now, not ever. The world's already on easy mode for them, why should he be relieved Connor's family could buy his way out of a terrorist attack? It probably wasn't what Lavender meant, but Kayden wasn't exactly someone who saw subtleties, or intricacies other than the ones that pertained to him.
The question of the power of the Lorenzen family raised another question, one which he was so close to just blurting out to Lavender right then and there - if his family was really that powerful, that rich, then what was Connor's excuse for hanging Kayden out to dry for all those years? The shit he had to put up with from everyone else? No fucking excuse. He had to spent years on years with the Carters and other bunches of animal shit, taking all kinds of hell from them for nearly every second he had the uniform on, for having the balls to be who he was, and every waking moment Kayden was looking for help.
And yeah, he got help, sometimes - Dean was good with Kayden, Ace liked Kayden, Connor stood up for Kayden sometimes. But they never stopped it. Kayden just wasn't worth taking on Wyatt, or Bret, or the others, or both. They were always worth more than Kayden, so...those were the breaks. And if all this time, Connor's family could have pulled some big stunt like that, made some sort of fucking impact, done something to the people at George Hunter High School who had to put up with...y'know, all of that? No. No way. Not today, Satan, not today.
Kayden took another sip from his coffee. He felt his heart racing in his chest, even though he hadn't even said 80% of what he was thinking. All of the thoughts running through his head could have been launched at Lavender, but it wouldn't have solved anything. He would have looked rabid, insane. He was beginning to become aware that if he went down this path, he would never really be able to say half of what he was thinking ever again.
"I suppose that's part of why I called you. I mean, not to have a big ol' smart discussion about ethics or whatever, but...okay, I guess it's kind of that."
This was probably the first part of growing up.
"I was hoping you could help me do something. Like, I'm the most senior member of the football team left, and you're the most senior member of student council left, so...I suppose once shit starts getting real around here, we're gonna be expected to do some stuff. Like, y'know, when news vans start popping up."
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Lavender nodded in response to Kayden's disagreement with her assessment of the Lorenzens. It was fair—no, it was more than fair. He was probably right to hold his perspective, probably more right than she was, but all the same she didn't think herself entirely wrong. Her stance, after all, came from an ideological position that she'd given some thought to, aware though she was of its flaws.
It boiled down, in essence, to this: nobody in their class deserved to die like this. Nobody. Not people Lavender liked, like Nick and Alex and Claudeson. Not people she was okay with if not overflowing with profound love for, like Connor and Lori and Desiree. And not even people she held in quiet but deep contempt, not even the Carters or Ivy or Garren. Therefore, anything that saved more lives, or even a single extra life beyond the allotted one, could not be bad. If Lavender was made omnipotent and given the ability to pull her peers to safety but forced to choose between them, to prioritize and decide their fates and play God, Connor would not be the first person she saved. He would not be in the first dozen, maybe not in the upper half. But she wasn't God, and if Connor waltzed into the diner at this moment and slid into their booth, she would be thrilled to see him again, even if crushed he came alone.
Granted, it was never that simple. His parents had offered succor to the real evil behind all of this, had offered to put their power and financial weight to work helping to make currently-unknown others pay back a hundredfold the fate intended for Connor if all went as they said. And yet, Lavender knew that would never happen, just as she knew that Connor would not be coming back early.
She was an idealist too, see. The terrorists didn't need resources. They had resources. Those resources came from somewhere, and they were all pointed straight at making what was currently happening happen, for a reason. If they slammed on the brakes and pulled one person out in return for an oil-money check, even a blank one, they would sacrifice all they were trying to prove, and probably burn those resources they already possessed. And it would do worse, too. Lavender didn't know what their big point was, but she knew that it wasn't just money that pulled people together and rallied them around horrible flags to commit atrocities. You couldn't buy back shattered faith from the true zealots.
But knowing all this, she needn't have spoken ambivalently of the Lorenzens to begin with. She was being sentimental, indulging fantastic musings no more plausible than her speculations as to what might have happened had she not missed the trip. She was, she thought, probably in the top ten percent of so of the class when it came to lethal potential when properly equipped. She wasn't as good as Faith or Ericka, perhaps, but she was good enough she could keep up. She'd had the typical American home-defense fantasy, more than once, and she'd be lying if she said that the shadows in her imagination had not at times worn the faces of her least favorite classmates. But even in those moments, in her guilty dreams, she'd shot first to wound. Could that change in a world with no law?
Lavender took a long sip from her soda and as Kayden continued his pitch her brows wrinkled, not due to his words but because the chill was cutting through her skull, giving her a brain freeze. She couldn't remember the last time she'd suffered that, maybe in her early teens, whenever it was that she'd last had a Slurpee. She still remembered the cure, though, quickly pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth, rubbing it there to grow a spot of warmth and spread it through her head.
It almost let her set aside the content of Kayden's words. She'd thought of what he brought up, but only loosely. It was a strange idea, that she was now in any way a more prominent member of the class establishment. There were some others, of course—she was pretty sure Alison and Joey were still around somewhere, and they'd been part of the free-for-all for the presidency—and also other members of the cheer squad (Keisha for sure, and also Milly, she thought?), but that didn't change things too much, and many of them had been out of the spotlight for some time. And whether they got involved or not, it did little to change that Lavender would end up in the thick of it. She knew herself well enough to admit it easily.
"You're right," she said. "I imagine there will be..."
Opportunistic politicization from otherwise-uninterested leaders? Crocodile tears from the usual suspects as they used the tragedy as an excuse to strip away still more freedoms? An inexhaustible supply of thoughts and prayers, even from those who secretly exulted that it was a relatively liberal school that got hit?
"...a lot of questions."
It boiled down, in essence, to this: nobody in their class deserved to die like this. Nobody. Not people Lavender liked, like Nick and Alex and Claudeson. Not people she was okay with if not overflowing with profound love for, like Connor and Lori and Desiree. And not even people she held in quiet but deep contempt, not even the Carters or Ivy or Garren. Therefore, anything that saved more lives, or even a single extra life beyond the allotted one, could not be bad. If Lavender was made omnipotent and given the ability to pull her peers to safety but forced to choose between them, to prioritize and decide their fates and play God, Connor would not be the first person she saved. He would not be in the first dozen, maybe not in the upper half. But she wasn't God, and if Connor waltzed into the diner at this moment and slid into their booth, she would be thrilled to see him again, even if crushed he came alone.
Granted, it was never that simple. His parents had offered succor to the real evil behind all of this, had offered to put their power and financial weight to work helping to make currently-unknown others pay back a hundredfold the fate intended for Connor if all went as they said. And yet, Lavender knew that would never happen, just as she knew that Connor would not be coming back early.
She was an idealist too, see. The terrorists didn't need resources. They had resources. Those resources came from somewhere, and they were all pointed straight at making what was currently happening happen, for a reason. If they slammed on the brakes and pulled one person out in return for an oil-money check, even a blank one, they would sacrifice all they were trying to prove, and probably burn those resources they already possessed. And it would do worse, too. Lavender didn't know what their big point was, but she knew that it wasn't just money that pulled people together and rallied them around horrible flags to commit atrocities. You couldn't buy back shattered faith from the true zealots.
But knowing all this, she needn't have spoken ambivalently of the Lorenzens to begin with. She was being sentimental, indulging fantastic musings no more plausible than her speculations as to what might have happened had she not missed the trip. She was, she thought, probably in the top ten percent of so of the class when it came to lethal potential when properly equipped. She wasn't as good as Faith or Ericka, perhaps, but she was good enough she could keep up. She'd had the typical American home-defense fantasy, more than once, and she'd be lying if she said that the shadows in her imagination had not at times worn the faces of her least favorite classmates. But even in those moments, in her guilty dreams, she'd shot first to wound. Could that change in a world with no law?
Lavender took a long sip from her soda and as Kayden continued his pitch her brows wrinkled, not due to his words but because the chill was cutting through her skull, giving her a brain freeze. She couldn't remember the last time she'd suffered that, maybe in her early teens, whenever it was that she'd last had a Slurpee. She still remembered the cure, though, quickly pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth, rubbing it there to grow a spot of warmth and spread it through her head.
It almost let her set aside the content of Kayden's words. She'd thought of what he brought up, but only loosely. It was a strange idea, that she was now in any way a more prominent member of the class establishment. There were some others, of course—she was pretty sure Alison and Joey were still around somewhere, and they'd been part of the free-for-all for the presidency—and also other members of the cheer squad (Keisha for sure, and also Milly, she thought?), but that didn't change things too much, and many of them had been out of the spotlight for some time. And whether they got involved or not, it did little to change that Lavender would end up in the thick of it. She knew herself well enough to admit it easily.
"You're right," she said. "I imagine there will be..."
Opportunistic politicization from otherwise-uninterested leaders? Crocodile tears from the usual suspects as they used the tragedy as an excuse to strip away still more freedoms? An inexhaustible supply of thoughts and prayers, even from those who secretly exulted that it was a relatively liberal school that got hit?
"...a lot of questions."
"Mmhmm."
Okay, that was part one down. The vague outline of the idea was broached, Lavender remained open and not hostile towards it. Kayden still felt a bit anxious about what would happen if she wasn't as hospitable to the next part.
"Yeah, we're the biggest story in America right now. People are gonna want to know about those who are gone. And...there's gonna be a time for a lot of them. You know how the news is. It'll be the...it'll be the ones who were popular, or rich, or athletic, or accomplished."
He looked down at his coffee again, but did not sip. Mostly because he realized that all of those descriptors could just as easily apply to himself at the best of times, and if he was on that island having to survive against people who were ready to kill, like they were every time this happened in this hellish free country they all called home, he sure as hell would go into that long night with the only comfort knowing that someone back home would remember him in the form of a segment about his life. Kayden would make it onto TV. He'd share the same media forme as Bethenny Frankel, a dream he wished would have come to pass later on in his life, not as it was about to end, and definitely not in memorium.
"People are going to want to know all about Connor, or Wyatt, or Bret, or Ivy, or...you know, that kind of crowd. The kind who probably would have just had the best lives after we all graduate. Best schools, best jobs, best...connections."
Live in money, die in money.
"And so...when I saw what Connor's dad did, I just realized...he's just commanded the attention of the entire country, because right now, he's the only one out there saying stuff. He's got the cameras on him. Right now, because of that, Connor's the most important kid at this entire school, and in a lot of places around here that was probably the case. But now he's gone, and he's still got that, when there's so many other kids who never got that, and will probably never get that? People I know, people I was friends with, people you were probably friends with, are never going to be that important? All I could think of when I saw that, is that...it's wrong."
Kayden's eyes were wandering around what he could see for a lot of the time he was talking, but the closer he meandered to his point the more focused they became on Lavender.
"The only reason Connor's important right now is because there's someone in front of a camera saying he is. That's how it works, that's how TV works. Say something, and it's true. So I got to thinking, that there's probably fleets of news vans heading towards our school right now from all over the country, or, like, y'know, however they travel. And they'll probably get to the teachers, to the parents, but...that's still probably not enough."
The point was in sight, as were Lavender's own eyes in Kaydens.
"So my idea is...we need to be Connor's dad, but for the right people. Like, we can't bribe the people who did this, obviously, but...we should be right there when the news vans arrive, and we should make the news ourselves. And so when they have questions, we answer them our way. Talk about our friends, talk about the people who need to get talked about. Tip the scales in the favour of those who probably deserve to be remembered for who they were, and not because they have the best families. Not because they're the kids everyone wants to hear about, but because they're the kids they should be hearing about."
That was it - that was part two. There was a two point five he needed to add on, but that could come later. He needed to make sure that Lavender was even reading the same book as him, let alone on the same page.
His fingers tensed around the mug of coffee, and yet now he realized his own wrists were too paralyzed with trepidation to distract himself by taking another sip. The chill making its way up his own arms overcame the warmth and suddenly it all felt so wrong, just as quickly as it felt right in the first place. Why, why did he think this was a good idea? This was just going to blow up in his face. He wanted to do something and somehow he thought this was the thing to do. And when Lavender left in disgust it was just going to be him, alone, with the stupid idea as the stupid little boy who thought he could make any sort of difference.
Okay, that was part one down. The vague outline of the idea was broached, Lavender remained open and not hostile towards it. Kayden still felt a bit anxious about what would happen if she wasn't as hospitable to the next part.
"Yeah, we're the biggest story in America right now. People are gonna want to know about those who are gone. And...there's gonna be a time for a lot of them. You know how the news is. It'll be the...it'll be the ones who were popular, or rich, or athletic, or accomplished."
He looked down at his coffee again, but did not sip. Mostly because he realized that all of those descriptors could just as easily apply to himself at the best of times, and if he was on that island having to survive against people who were ready to kill, like they were every time this happened in this hellish free country they all called home, he sure as hell would go into that long night with the only comfort knowing that someone back home would remember him in the form of a segment about his life. Kayden would make it onto TV. He'd share the same media forme as Bethenny Frankel, a dream he wished would have come to pass later on in his life, not as it was about to end, and definitely not in memorium.
"People are going to want to know all about Connor, or Wyatt, or Bret, or Ivy, or...you know, that kind of crowd. The kind who probably would have just had the best lives after we all graduate. Best schools, best jobs, best...connections."
Live in money, die in money.
"And so...when I saw what Connor's dad did, I just realized...he's just commanded the attention of the entire country, because right now, he's the only one out there saying stuff. He's got the cameras on him. Right now, because of that, Connor's the most important kid at this entire school, and in a lot of places around here that was probably the case. But now he's gone, and he's still got that, when there's so many other kids who never got that, and will probably never get that? People I know, people I was friends with, people you were probably friends with, are never going to be that important? All I could think of when I saw that, is that...it's wrong."
Kayden's eyes were wandering around what he could see for a lot of the time he was talking, but the closer he meandered to his point the more focused they became on Lavender.
"The only reason Connor's important right now is because there's someone in front of a camera saying he is. That's how it works, that's how TV works. Say something, and it's true. So I got to thinking, that there's probably fleets of news vans heading towards our school right now from all over the country, or, like, y'know, however they travel. And they'll probably get to the teachers, to the parents, but...that's still probably not enough."
The point was in sight, as were Lavender's own eyes in Kaydens.
"So my idea is...we need to be Connor's dad, but for the right people. Like, we can't bribe the people who did this, obviously, but...we should be right there when the news vans arrive, and we should make the news ourselves. And so when they have questions, we answer them our way. Talk about our friends, talk about the people who need to get talked about. Tip the scales in the favour of those who probably deserve to be remembered for who they were, and not because they have the best families. Not because they're the kids everyone wants to hear about, but because they're the kids they should be hearing about."
That was it - that was part two. There was a two point five he needed to add on, but that could come later. He needed to make sure that Lavender was even reading the same book as him, let alone on the same page.
His fingers tensed around the mug of coffee, and yet now he realized his own wrists were too paralyzed with trepidation to distract himself by taking another sip. The chill making its way up his own arms overcame the warmth and suddenly it all felt so wrong, just as quickly as it felt right in the first place. Why, why did he think this was a good idea? This was just going to blow up in his face. He wanted to do something and somehow he thought this was the thing to do. And when Lavender left in disgust it was just going to be him, alone, with the stupid idea as the stupid little boy who thought he could make any sort of difference.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Lavender met Kayden's gaze, and she let him talk. She considered his words, both their content and the emotion behind them, and as she did she she felt something stirring, an understanding and camaraderie of sorts. His plan made logical sense, assuming that she agreed with his stated aims, which she did. It made plenty of emotional and ideological sense, too.
Whether it would have any effect put into practice, well, that was another matter entirely. Lavender had become progressively more disillusioned with the media over the past three years, with the way even the supposedly neutral or left-leaning outlets tripped over themselves to offer Canon free and continuous coverage, tapping his antics and atrocities to prop up their own industry in an age increasingly willing to turn to the sensational over the true. Could their words possibly matter, in the face of that? Did they have any chance of making a difference, or would they be deluding themselves the way Lavender had deluded herself when she engineered a tiebreaker in the anti-bullying association with an eye towards forcing the school to actually enforce its own rules upon one of its sports darlings trying to make a mockery of the whole thing?
She'd made mistakes before, often, and especially of late. She could see it clearly this time, the potential for things to turn out badly, the possible factors Kayden wasn't considering. Maybe the smart thing to do was to walk away.
That wasn't the right thing to do, though. Lavender did her best. She tried to be willing to compromise in a lot of areas, but when it came to obvious cases of moral and immoral, she wasn't even able to pretend to mull for long. If there were flaws that she could see and Kayden couldn't, that just meant that she was all the more needed. If this would lead to consequences, shame or unwanted attention or worse, then that was the price she would have to pay. She'd done it before. She would do it again. Compared with what her classmates were suffering, it was nothing. Nothing at all.
"Advocate for the voiceless, then?" Lavender said. She nodded. "I like it."
She took another long sip of soda, turning over Kayden's roundabout pitch, the tension that had seeped into his posture, the evident trepidation. She hoped to be a lawyer someday, was setting out on the first steps of that journey in a few months. Her father had talked with her often about reading between the lines, figuring out not only what people were actually saying but what they weren't voicing at all. For all this idea of Kayden's sounded up her alley, she could not shake the feeling that there was something else going on, even if she couldn't quite imagine what it could be.
So she asked.
"What's the catch?"
Whether it would have any effect put into practice, well, that was another matter entirely. Lavender had become progressively more disillusioned with the media over the past three years, with the way even the supposedly neutral or left-leaning outlets tripped over themselves to offer Canon free and continuous coverage, tapping his antics and atrocities to prop up their own industry in an age increasingly willing to turn to the sensational over the true. Could their words possibly matter, in the face of that? Did they have any chance of making a difference, or would they be deluding themselves the way Lavender had deluded herself when she engineered a tiebreaker in the anti-bullying association with an eye towards forcing the school to actually enforce its own rules upon one of its sports darlings trying to make a mockery of the whole thing?
She'd made mistakes before, often, and especially of late. She could see it clearly this time, the potential for things to turn out badly, the possible factors Kayden wasn't considering. Maybe the smart thing to do was to walk away.
That wasn't the right thing to do, though. Lavender did her best. She tried to be willing to compromise in a lot of areas, but when it came to obvious cases of moral and immoral, she wasn't even able to pretend to mull for long. If there were flaws that she could see and Kayden couldn't, that just meant that she was all the more needed. If this would lead to consequences, shame or unwanted attention or worse, then that was the price she would have to pay. She'd done it before. She would do it again. Compared with what her classmates were suffering, it was nothing. Nothing at all.
"Advocate for the voiceless, then?" Lavender said. She nodded. "I like it."
She took another long sip of soda, turning over Kayden's roundabout pitch, the tension that had seeped into his posture, the evident trepidation. She hoped to be a lawyer someday, was setting out on the first steps of that journey in a few months. Her father had talked with her often about reading between the lines, figuring out not only what people were actually saying but what they weren't voicing at all. For all this idea of Kayden's sounded up her alley, she could not shake the feeling that there was something else going on, even if she couldn't quite imagine what it could be.
So she asked.
"What's the catch?"
The tension evaporated. Kayden blinked.
"Ah, right."
He took the situation in - Lavender had just agreed to his idea. The bout of anxiety had erased that possibility from his mind, somehow. For a few moments that crackled in his ears, he had been worthless. But there was an army of two of them, now. They had charisma, uniqueness, nerve, talent, and synergy on their side.
Well, the synergy remained to be seen, because there was part of the pitch that Kayden had forgotten to expand upon. Which is why he's spoken in the first place.
"Well, I suppose the upside of talking up for everyone who's never going to get a voice is, well-"
He felt a little tense again. Kayden switched.
"You ever follow K-Pop? I used to be big into it, it got me through that fucking hell time of getting on the football team, but it's not my thing anymore. But the media who made them always had this really tight grip on everything. And they could get the audience to do...really, really weird things. Like, I think it was like...some girl group called Girls Generation, or some girl group called SNSD or something, and the entire K-Pop fandom thought they weren't paying enough respect to the groups who were supposed to be above their level, so during one of their concerts the entire audience just...I think it's called a black ocean, where, like, y'know when you're at a concert and you're stanning whoever's on stage so you're waving around your phone on full brightness? Well, the audience just turned all of theirs off and the entire audience was just...total darkness."
Again, failing to reach the point. If Kayden ever learned how to drive a manual transmission, he would have made some off-hand comment about switching gears.
"And when the paparazzi started getting big over there, they started making big moves to leak stories and stuff. And one time, they actually leaked one of the idol's nudes. But rather than passing it around, like, the fandom did a black ocean. But like, a good one? All K-Pop websites and news stuff refused to share it, or print it, or make it a big thing. It was probably something that started as the worst moment of that girl's life, but thanks to the people who cared, it was like...not that, anymore."
There he went.
"So I guess we should be doing the same thing, but, like, smaller scale. We talk up the good people, the ones who deserve to be remembered, and if they try to make us talk about Ivy, or Wyatt, or any of the other shitbags who've made life here worse..."
Kayden's fingers finally relaxed, and he took another sip of his drink, before bringing the mug back down again.
"Black ocean."
"Ah, right."
He took the situation in - Lavender had just agreed to his idea. The bout of anxiety had erased that possibility from his mind, somehow. For a few moments that crackled in his ears, he had been worthless. But there was an army of two of them, now. They had charisma, uniqueness, nerve, talent, and synergy on their side.
Well, the synergy remained to be seen, because there was part of the pitch that Kayden had forgotten to expand upon. Which is why he's spoken in the first place.
"Well, I suppose the upside of talking up for everyone who's never going to get a voice is, well-"
He felt a little tense again. Kayden switched.
"You ever follow K-Pop? I used to be big into it, it got me through that fucking hell time of getting on the football team, but it's not my thing anymore. But the media who made them always had this really tight grip on everything. And they could get the audience to do...really, really weird things. Like, I think it was like...some girl group called Girls Generation, or some girl group called SNSD or something, and the entire K-Pop fandom thought they weren't paying enough respect to the groups who were supposed to be above their level, so during one of their concerts the entire audience just...I think it's called a black ocean, where, like, y'know when you're at a concert and you're stanning whoever's on stage so you're waving around your phone on full brightness? Well, the audience just turned all of theirs off and the entire audience was just...total darkness."
Again, failing to reach the point. If Kayden ever learned how to drive a manual transmission, he would have made some off-hand comment about switching gears.
"And when the paparazzi started getting big over there, they started making big moves to leak stories and stuff. And one time, they actually leaked one of the idol's nudes. But rather than passing it around, like, the fandom did a black ocean. But like, a good one? All K-Pop websites and news stuff refused to share it, or print it, or make it a big thing. It was probably something that started as the worst moment of that girl's life, but thanks to the people who cared, it was like...not that, anymore."
There he went.
"So I guess we should be doing the same thing, but, like, smaller scale. We talk up the good people, the ones who deserve to be remembered, and if they try to make us talk about Ivy, or Wyatt, or any of the other shitbags who've made life here worse..."
Kayden's fingers finally relaxed, and he took another sip of his drink, before bringing the mug back down again.
"Black ocean."
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
No, Lavender had not ever followed K-Pop. She had an idea of what it was, sort of, extremely loosely. It came secondhand, from whispers in the comment sections of blogs, from mumblings amongst her friends, from punchlines to jokes she didn't understand. Her basic concept of it was something like a perpetual, nation-wide Jonas Brothers revival, except almost all the performers were women. She had this suspicion there was a certain leering lascivious element, but maybe that was just because in the one or two pictures she'd seen, the performers were wearing shorts and crop tops so tight she would've balked at sporting them on her way to a late-night hookup.
Her befuddlement must have been obvious, because Kayden launched into an explanation. As he spoke, Lavender nursed her soda, barely drinking but keeping the straw in her lips, mostly to relieve herself of the need to emote beyond a politely raised eyebrow.
At first, the spiel made no sense to her. She sought refuge in the pieces with emotional resonance or personal significance, with strong imagery. This was important to Kayden; it had seen him through a bad place, so she would respect it but couldn't expect to slip seamlessly into his understanding. A concert going black, though, that she could visualize, though barely believe. Revenge porn? That was a topic she knew a thing or two about, thank goodness not from personal experience (was she a good judge of character with who she trusted, or merely lucky?).
But when Kayden brought it all around, suddenly it didn't matter that she'd never heard of the groups he'd mentioned, that she'd learned the terminology seconds ago, that she hadn't been able to project the trajectory of his pitch. It clicked together like a wire puzzle turned the right way, and just so it was elegant and obvious and something she would've never thought of unprompted.
"Black ocean?" she repeated. She set the soda down on the table, perfectly overlapping the ring of condensation that had formed beneath it earlier.
Lavender knew how tragedies were spun. She knew how the media—the world—lined up to forget the sins of the dead, to say that they were just kids, didn't know better, innocent mistakes. She knew what the eulogies would focus on, potential unjustly ripped away, futures cut tragically short, unfairness and loss. All of that would be true, but also woefully incomplete.
Nobody would mention the destruction and pain. Nobody would stand up and say, no, she made life hell for anyone who failed to kowtow. Nobody would raise their hand and say, no, he sexually harassed girls every goddamn day. Nobody would talk about the violence, the cruelty. Nobody would dare insinuate that perhaps real, lasting, irreparable harm had also been done to some of those left behind. Nobody would utter the words "hate crimes." And if anyone dared? They would be drowned in the collective outrage of a society intent on crafting its uncomplicated narrative of the victimization of the innocent.
Nobody deserved what had happened to Lavender's classmates. Nobody. She wouldn't wish it on the most vile of bigots. But what had happened had happened, and there was nothing she could to about it. And that vile bigot, well, he didn't deserve to become a hero or a martyr for his suffering either. His targets didn't deserve to be re-victimized again and again, to every day see their pain trivialized as their shattered nation lionized their tormentors. She might have no more power to make anything different there either, but it was less certain. She could try.
"I'm in." Lavender rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. "Let's go swimming."
Her befuddlement must have been obvious, because Kayden launched into an explanation. As he spoke, Lavender nursed her soda, barely drinking but keeping the straw in her lips, mostly to relieve herself of the need to emote beyond a politely raised eyebrow.
At first, the spiel made no sense to her. She sought refuge in the pieces with emotional resonance or personal significance, with strong imagery. This was important to Kayden; it had seen him through a bad place, so she would respect it but couldn't expect to slip seamlessly into his understanding. A concert going black, though, that she could visualize, though barely believe. Revenge porn? That was a topic she knew a thing or two about, thank goodness not from personal experience (was she a good judge of character with who she trusted, or merely lucky?).
But when Kayden brought it all around, suddenly it didn't matter that she'd never heard of the groups he'd mentioned, that she'd learned the terminology seconds ago, that she hadn't been able to project the trajectory of his pitch. It clicked together like a wire puzzle turned the right way, and just so it was elegant and obvious and something she would've never thought of unprompted.
"Black ocean?" she repeated. She set the soda down on the table, perfectly overlapping the ring of condensation that had formed beneath it earlier.
Lavender knew how tragedies were spun. She knew how the media—the world—lined up to forget the sins of the dead, to say that they were just kids, didn't know better, innocent mistakes. She knew what the eulogies would focus on, potential unjustly ripped away, futures cut tragically short, unfairness and loss. All of that would be true, but also woefully incomplete.
Nobody would mention the destruction and pain. Nobody would stand up and say, no, she made life hell for anyone who failed to kowtow. Nobody would raise their hand and say, no, he sexually harassed girls every goddamn day. Nobody would talk about the violence, the cruelty. Nobody would dare insinuate that perhaps real, lasting, irreparable harm had also been done to some of those left behind. Nobody would utter the words "hate crimes." And if anyone dared? They would be drowned in the collective outrage of a society intent on crafting its uncomplicated narrative of the victimization of the innocent.
Nobody deserved what had happened to Lavender's classmates. Nobody. She wouldn't wish it on the most vile of bigots. But what had happened had happened, and there was nothing she could to about it. And that vile bigot, well, he didn't deserve to become a hero or a martyr for his suffering either. His targets didn't deserve to be re-victimized again and again, to every day see their pain trivialized as their shattered nation lionized their tormentors. She might have no more power to make anything different there either, but it was less certain. She could try.
"I'm in." Lavender rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. "Let's go swimming."
Kayden nodded.
"Okay, so first thing's first, I think if we divide responsibilities into two groups-"
*
The two stayed until long after closing time - Kayden Brockman and Lavender Ripley may not have personally known the owners of the Blue House Cafe and Diner, but enough was known about Kayden Brockman and Lavender Ripley by the owners of the Blue House Cafe and Diner to fanangle at least an extra hour of sympathy planning out of them. They were, of course, mourning students from a school recently attacked by a terrorist group which had been plaguing their country for over a decade. The footballer had his own notebook and pen, referring to his phone every so often now for cross-referencing.
By the time they'd left, it was nearly sundown. It was a warm night, so Kayden hadn't felt the need to bring a coat with him. But when he stepped out onto the mostly empty Chattanooga streets, he felt a chill of something work its way down his spine.
His pocket buzzed. Kayden instinctively opened his phone and the app which caused the buzz without checking. He almost forgot about that aspect of his life, contained within the confines of a little orange square. He saw glistening skin, perfect muscles, and cutting jaws.
Yet Kayden, unblinkingly so, felt nothing.
He put his phone back into his pocket and began to make his way home.
((Kayden Brockman continued elsewhere))
"Okay, so first thing's first, I think if we divide responsibilities into two groups-"
*
The two stayed until long after closing time - Kayden Brockman and Lavender Ripley may not have personally known the owners of the Blue House Cafe and Diner, but enough was known about Kayden Brockman and Lavender Ripley by the owners of the Blue House Cafe and Diner to fanangle at least an extra hour of sympathy planning out of them. They were, of course, mourning students from a school recently attacked by a terrorist group which had been plaguing their country for over a decade. The footballer had his own notebook and pen, referring to his phone every so often now for cross-referencing.
By the time they'd left, it was nearly sundown. It was a warm night, so Kayden hadn't felt the need to bring a coat with him. But when he stepped out onto the mostly empty Chattanooga streets, he felt a chill of something work its way down his spine.
His pocket buzzed. Kayden instinctively opened his phone and the app which caused the buzz without checking. He almost forgot about that aspect of his life, contained within the confines of a little orange square. He saw glistening skin, perfect muscles, and cutting jaws.
Yet Kayden, unblinkingly so, felt nothing.
He put his phone back into his pocket and began to make his way home.
((Kayden Brockman continued elsewhere))