April 4th, 2017

Kinsky, California, USA

Swift Democracy

Lukas sat on the floor of his bedroom. All around him were the scattered notes of Cole’s journal, occasionally brushed and lifted by a small rotating fan in the corner.

He felt he was getting somewhere, and nowhere at the same time.

Most of the entries were nothing: quick little jots about Cole babysitting, or going out with friends. Of all the entries, most of them were about Lukas and Kat – second were Maria and Anita. Interestingly enough, very few others were mentioned by name.

The most pertinent notes were the longer ones, where Cole described what he was feeling in more detail. He did struggle with depression, and with anger as well – jealousies that Lukas never knew about, not just about Lukas himself but Kat and the others to varying degrees. Each time Cole acknowledged what he was feeling was wrong, but couldn’t help but feel it anyway. Lukas felt he could relate to that.

Another interesting pattern emerged, and that was with the Cortez House. He claimed it felt like a second home to him – that the comfort of Maria and her mother made him feel better, and especially so was that of Anita. Cole, in his own words, claimed that Anita felt like a little sister to him, something he never got to have as an only child. For Lukas, this was the most concrete proof he had yet that Cole was innocent.

But it still wasn’t everything. Half the journal was missing, and it was the half closest to Anita’s death: the one that would have the most salient evidence. As Lukas read on he had expected there to be some sort of clue given by Cole as to where it would be located, but there wasn’t. Plenty of locations were mentioned, both from times in the past and the present. But nothing to narrow it all down, nor any specific place to start.

There was also the question of Lukas involving the other boys. After he opened the chest, he did actually end up taking the time to update the boys occasionally on what he had found. But as time went on, things began to grow strained. The journals got more and more personal, and while he did respect the likes of Aaron, Rodrigo, Maurice, and to an extent Isaac – it just didn’t feel right. Even though it would be much harder, he had to go this one alone.

He sighed as he got up and began to collect the papers off the floor.

…

Kat, Rose, and Sadja were walking together from their class to an assembly on the field. As they did so, Kat continued a story from earlier.

“Anyway, I stuck by the plan and came out of the closet in the new lingerie. You know, all sexy-like. And I’m standing there, waiting for his reaction, for him to just jump on me or something, but he just sits there like… like it’s just okay. So then I ask him to tell me which of my bras he does like, and what does he do? He picks out the granny! Says he likes how much it makes my boobs look round. Well, that’s $200 from Victoria’s Secret down the drain.”

There was a brief intermission as the three passed by two other girls they recognized, and exchanged a hello. Sadja then looked back at Kat, shrugging.

“I’ve gotten the same experience from other boys – they always pick the basic stuff over the fancy ones. I feel like we were just lied to when we were younger.”

As the girls approached the bleachers, Rose shook her head. “I don’t have that same problem with Aaron. And besides…” Rose turned towards them, a finger sticking out. Both girls could see their reflections in Rose’s pointed sunglasses. “…a girl should never rely on a man’s opinion for what she should wear.”

Kat let out a short giggle. “Amen to that, sis!”

The three made their way up and over towards the top corner of the seats. After some time had passed, Carmichael — the STUGO treasurer — got up on a podium near the track to speak. Emily and Ash were on either side of him, standing patiently.

“Good morning, Kinsky High,” he said with some attempted enthusiasm. “As you all know, we’re nearing the end of the school year. And, of course, that means we have a lot of fun events coming up. But I’m sure the number one thing on your mind right now is the results of last week’s vote. So, without further ado…”

Emily, who stood to the left of the podium, reached up to give Carmichael two envelopes. Carmichael put one on the lectern, and the other he kept in his hands.

“For the winner of Kinsky High’s 2017 Prom King, we have…”

He opened the envelope. As he read the card, his expression changed little.

“…Isaac Broderick!”

There was a spattering of claps and cheers across the audience. From near the front row, Isaac got up – his pronounced height making him easy to see – and he began to walk down to accept his crown. Kat and Rose both looked at him with a hint of ire, but Sadja simply kept her eyes towards her lap.

“And to join Isaac, we have Kinsky High’s 2017 Prom Queen, who is…”

Carmichael grabbed the other envelope, and began to unseal it. As he did so, Kat closed her eyes and balled up her hands.

“Please don’t be me, please don’t be me…” she muttered quietly to herself.

When Carmichael read the card, he opened his mouth as if to speak. But something stopped him – a sense of surprise – and he hesitated for a moment, only to suddenly put down the card and turn to his right.

“Ashlyn Monticello!”

Ash let out an uncontrolled, inaudible gasp. She looked up towards the bleachers at the wave of people celebrating for her. Even among the crowd, the screams of Rose, Kat, and Sadja could be heard distinctly from the others. Near the front she caught eyes with Maria, who stood up and clapped vigorously. As Ash stood there in awe, unsure what to do next, she watched as Emily – with a big smile on her face – lifted the queen’s crown and put it gently on Ash’s head.

She stood next to Isaac as the two got their picture taken by the student photography team. Isaac glanced at her awkwardly from his side, but quickly turned back forward as her eyes reached his. This wasn’t the outcome either had expected.

…

After school, all the girls got together to celebrate at Kinsky’s downtown district. As they walked the cobblestone pathway, Ash still felt in shock about the whole thing. More specifically, she didn’t know which way she should feel.

“You really saved me there, you know?” Kat said as she nudged Ash politely. “If I got paired with Isaac for prom, I think I would’ve just ditched the whole thing deadass.”

“You actually didn’t get too many votes,” Emily interjected towards Kat. As it turned out, Emily had known the results of the vote in advance and kept it a secret the whole time. “Especially since all of us flipped our votes to Ash. She actually had a lot of votes come in from the choir and theater crowd in general.”

“Yup, I told the others that since I wasn’t fixing to get stuck with Isaac that they should all vote for Ash instead. And theater makes sense since you make their props and stuff, right?”

Ash still kept her head down, partially due to the wind and partially due to embarrassment. “Well, some of them. But now I have no idea what I’m going to do about prom.”

“You don’t gotta worry about that, honey!” Rose interjected emphatically. “We got it all under control. If you’ve got any questions – what to wear, what to do, how to avoid Isaac and his gang of roving morons, you just ask us! We’re all here for you.”

Ash couldn’t help but smile now. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind for the future.”

The girls kept walking down the road when, out of the corner of her eye, Maria noticed something that wasn’t there before. A public grand piano was sitting outside, encircled by tables and chairs and the people sitting there to talk, eat, and go about their own business. The piano currently sat unplayed.

“Since when did they put that there?” Maria asked, pointing to the piano.

The girls all stopped to look at it. “Since the beginning of March, I think,” Rose finally responded. “Still haven’t seen anyone play it, though.”

“One of you guys should try it, then,” Maria turned towards Kat and Sadja as she spoke. “You can play the piano, right Kat?”

Kat shook her head. “Nope. Never touched one in my life. When we’ve needed one at rehearsal, though, Sadja has played before…”

The girls all turned towards Sadja. She eyed the piano herself, but didn’t seem anxious. Her response admittedly surprised the others.

“Alright. I can do it.”

Maria let out a little clap of appreciation. “Alright, then! We’ll sit over there. Don’t let us interrupt your playing.”

The girls carefully scurried over towards two tables next to one another, just within line of sight of the piano. Sadja approached it, and as she got closer she realized how much older it was. It wasn’t purchased new, but rather used. It had seen playing before.

Sadja sat down at the instrument, and took a deep breath. She pressed a note to understand the texture of the keys – it was heavy, and the sound was in-tune although a bit loud. She cracked her knuckles, then began to play.

The sound was mournful, touched with a nostalgia – nostalgia for a time before, melancholy that it had now ended. It was a sound none of the others in attendance had heard before, likely because it was a sound that had never been played outside the confines of Sadja’s private moments with the piano in an empty choir room. It was a song she had written herself. A song she had worked on for years, but never told anyone about. Yet, something about that moment — that hour, that day, that season — set something off within her. Something that plain words could not describe, and something that she herself did not understand. She began to sing.

Good morning to you, my brave little star,

How long you’ve wandered, burned bright as the sun,

And I have waited here patiently, all this time,

With my heart full of love,

To sing to you one song,

So you know why,

Even when darkness comes, I’ll always be by your side,

Take your time, my sweet one,

Softly, within me,

I have heard your voice, weighed your every choice,

And in time, I’ve grown to be so proud,

Cast off, all your tears

Fill your sails with joy,

As we reach the shore,

And this time, you’ll have your hope reborn,

Child, come to me,

See my guiding light,

Spread your wings and fly,

As we come back home,

This one heart, all for you,

It’s all for you

Sadja outroed the song, playing the same chords quieter and quieter until she had finally stopped. She was met by a rumbling of applause, not just from the girls but from the other pedestrians seated nearby. One of them, an older man, quickly walked by and as he passed the piano he placed a five dollar bill within reach of Sadja’s hand.

While the Sadja’s eyes traced their way around the environment, they suddenly interlocked with Kat’s. Kat smiled at her, her hands clapping until they were sore, her face clearly proud. But Sadja couldn’t greet her with the same joy anymore. Her eyes simply lowered as she took a deep breath in.