Silver Millennium Soldier
-2- An Unlikely Hero
by
Mike Macdonald
(Age: 27)
copyright 02-02-2006
Age Rating: 18 to 127
“Serena, rise and shine!”
The lump finally moved a little, not much more than a pot of oatmeal just on the verge of boiling. At least this time there was a sound to attest that something was, in fact, alive under there.
“Mmmh-whuh...?"
The warm womb of the bed was gone in an instant, and hovering above was the far-too-bright-and-cheerful face of what seemed to be the sun. Only more intrusive, somehow.
“Wake up, Sleepyhead!” Mrs. Babbit sang. “It’s another beautiful day out, and you’ve got a lot to do!”
The cadaver on the fluffy slab emitted a sound like a depressed camel giving up and dying. Mrs. Babbit frowned.
“You could at least make some kind of comprehensible sound. Like, ‘Good Morning.’”
“Why’re you waking me up so early?” the girl groaned, rolling away from her blinding mother. “I need my beauty sleep."
“Well, excuuuse me, Princess. I just didn’t want you to miss your big history exam today. It’s Friday, after all.”
Serena rolled back toward her mother to give her an inquisitive and half-dead look, and found herself staring at the giant neon green digits of her bedside clock.
She shot out of bed and was already half dressed before she left her room.
“Friday? Shit!”
“Language.” Mrs. Babbit said as her daughter stumbled about her morning chores.
“Sorry! Why didn’t you set my alarm for six like I asked?”
“I did. You slept through it. Then I sent Sammy in to wake you up. He said you threw the clock at him and called him, and I quote, a ‘Smelly ‘Tard’. Whatever that means. Didn’t Father tell you not to call him names anymore?”
“He rigged the scale again yesterday!” she shouted as if her little brother could hear her at his school five miles away. “I step on it all hopeful that I lost a couple pounds this week, and it tells me I'm over two hundred. He’ll be lucky to make it through puberty if I see him again.”
Mrs. Babbit stifled a giggle.
“It’s not funny!”
“You’re right. It isn’t.”
Morning chores done in record time, Serena shot down the stairs while tying her hair into the style of the month, two Chinese cinnamon buns with matching tails that whipped through the air behind her like an antsy pair of Siamese cats. She’d seen it in a foreign fashion magazine and had worn the style off and on for most of her sophomore and junior years. It seemed to win her points with her Japanese professors since the style made her reminiscent of a mythological princess who was attributed to rabbits. She tried not to think about that aspect too much.
Breezing through the kitchen, she grabbed a slice of raisin bread her father was about to use for a sandwich for his lunch break at the office. Then she scrambled about the living room, grabbing her house key from the small table in the hallway and knocking the Easter photo off the wall, like always, upon slamming the table drawer shut.
“Daddy, where’s my-?” she began to ask when Mr. Babbit handed her a brown leather briefcase containing five textbooks, a planner, a three month old Cosmopolitan, a Fruits Basket book she borrowed from Rachel the first week of school and forgot about ever since, and God only knows what else.
“City Hall called this morning,” Mr. Babbit said as she took her bag. “They want to make the leaf pile in our front lawn a monument to sloth.”
“Sorry. I forgot again. I’ll take care of it when I get home today.”
“That’s what you said last Fall.”
“Don’t you have better things to do than chide me for my inherent teenage laziness?” Serena said as she darted out the door. “Like polish your Star Trek commemorative plate collection?”
“Those’re gonna be worth a mint someday!”
Only a three minute walk to Molly’s house, less than two at a dead run.
Probably a little longer if one were to stop and admire any pretty black stray that might perch itself on one’s front gate and stare at every dizzy schoolgirl that happened by. This day would've been one such case if Serena Babbit wasn't in a hurry.
The cat sat and watched Serena as if it had watched this routine a hundred times, yet Serena had no recollections of the animal. Not sure what verbal greeting a cat responded to, Serena smiled and waved without breaking stride.
“Greetings, Cheshire Puss! Sorry, I don’t have time to chat! I gotta get to Molly’s house!”
The trip to Molly’s house took just over two minutes running, plus another ten to fifteen seconds staring agape at Mrs. Baker upon her arrival.
“Whaddaya mean 'She left already'?”
“Sorry, Serena. She didn’t have time to wait for you today. She had to get her Japanese textbook. Like she already should have two months ago. You might bump into her at the bookstore.”
“God dammit!” She wailed, already a block away before Mrs. Baker had finished.
“Language, Dear!"
“Sorry!”
Five minutes to get to the bus stop. Another ten to fifteen seconds throwing a fit upon realizing it had driven into town already. Ten minutes in a dead run to make it to the bookstore, but Serena’s newfound vigor seemed to help her make great time.
“This day’s gonna suck hard, I can just feel it," she thought as she ran through town. "Probably all that damn black cat’s fault! I shoulda been more suspicious of it sitting outside my house like that-!”
Serena found herself flying in the air from the hard yank of a young and even more vigorous thief running in the opposite direction after having snatched her briefcase right out of her grip. The day was going from bad to awful, and she was set on getting back on her feet, chasing the little shit down, and explaining this to him as loud as possible. In the next instant, the thief, his feet suddenly vanishing from beneath him, was thrown into a set of garbage cans by a heroic passer-by, who now offered Serena her briefcase as if the punk never existed and the foolish girl merely dropped it in her hurry.
“I believe this is yours,” her white knight said with a grin. If you could call the tall, dashing stranger a knight, as said stranger was, in fact, a woman of about twenty-four years. “You okay?”
“Uh…a little embarrassed,” Serena stammered, taking her briefcase back timidly. "Otherwise fine."
“Gotta keep a good hold o’ your things in this area. You’re right by the mall. It’s thief central, what with all the big spenders that come about.”
The woman spoke with a slight drawl, and gestured in a circle to their surroundings. The long tail of bronze hair sprouting from the back of her baseball cap seemed eager to help with her gesticulations, as did the generous bosom under her babydoll shirt, both whipping in a faintly similar fashion. The two traits must've constantly warred for the attention of whoever she spoke to.
The vicious song of a butterfly knife announced the thief’s appreciation for his attacker as he came at the tall girl’s backside with a pretty clear intention. The thought to scream only crossed Serena’s mind because the incident was over before she realized it. The woman slapped the knife out of the youth’s hand and returned him to his place on the garbage cans with a kick to the jaw so sudden and powerful it may as well have been a speeding car that hit him. Serena chose to scream at this instead, since the urge was still hanging around and it’d be a shame to waste it. The woman paid no mind to the girl’s shriek or the fact that she may have indeed just killed someone in the street two seconds ago.
“Go down that street and hang a right. Quickest way to the market. There’s cops there. I’d offer to walk with ya, but I got things to do today. Watch your ass, Girl.”
With a friendly smile, the young woman was off, never once looking back at the girl she’d just saved or the punk she’d put in critical.
Serena’s next painful memory was of running up the small set of steps leading to the front doors of the bookstore, and her hand outstretched to open them when they decided to open by themselves at the last second. Serena heard something like an automobile being broken in half over a buffalo's head and her brain started doing the Macarena in her skull. She’d barely managed to grab the short railing to keep from falling down again. A young man with jet black hair stood in the opened doorway, holding the dented door with a startled look on his face, which immediately grew into a huge smile.
“Oww! Mother fucker-!” Serena shouted, holding her forehead.
“Man, you got a real mouth on you, S’ghetti. Maybe you should trade it in for some eyes.”
“You smacked into me, Darien!”
She said the name the way most folks say words like ‘disease’ and ‘jury duty’.
“Oh, of course.”
“And stop calling me S'ghetti!”
“Stop doing your hair like an Italian dish.”
With a roll of the eyes, Serena shoved past him and into the bookstore. College boys were so patronizing.
“It’s a posh hairstyle overseas, you chunkhead!”
“Yeah, overseas.”
Molly Baker stood in one small aisle with a large textbook in one arm, engrossed in the most fascinating little book ever written which lay in her free hand.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” she heard a tired and husky voice grumble over her shoulder. An equally tired set of bright blue eyes startled her with their glare as she turned to acknowledge her friend.
“Oh, hey! What up, Homegirl? Did you walk here?”
“Felt more like a triathlon. I think I got the bronze.”
Molly’s eyes swelled to twice their size for a second, like they always did when she was about to have a babbling fit.
“Hey, did you see this chess book they have here? It’s actually a really interesting game! I totally didn't-!”
“Molly, Sweetheart,” Serena waved her hand, having no intention of listening to her dizzy friend while the guillotine of retribution hung over both their heads, “we’re both gonna be late if you finish that sentence, so let’s get your Japanese book and skedaddle, ‘kay?”
The line was thankfully short. Only another thirty seconds checking out.
“I still don’t even know why it’s a required class, anyhow,” Serena griped while Molly brandished her debit card. “I mean, the only people I know the class’d come in handy with are the weird traditional folks at the shrine, and everybody's too scared to talk to them.”
“Wasn’t Cherry Hill established by Japanese immigrants?” Molly said thoughtfully.
Serena scanned over the trivia littering the checkout counter, among them a rack of Cherry Hill postcards depicting lovely photographs of the many tourist traps the city had to offer, like the Hikawa shrine on the north side of town, and the traditional feudal hotels complete with group dinners and onsen hot springs. Some of the geeks she knew online would give their first born to live in Cherry Hill.
Serena wanted out. It was all novelty to her. Her ancestors were Saxons who'd never even heard of chopsticks.
“In theory,” she finally said as the cashier bowed to them. “Why couldn’t we be a normal town?”
Three seconds walking to the doors.
“We went over it in History, didn’t we?”
“I dunno...”
“Oh, you were asleep in class again that day, huh?”
“Shut up.”
The poor buffalo was victimized yet again as the door that should have easily given under Serena’s weight became a solid wall of glass and metal, and embraced her like a drunken prom date. Through the glass pane, the two girls could see Darien leaning against the door with a mischievous grin, holding a familiar looking brown leather briefcase.
“Don’t you think you ought to have your supplies for school?” he laughed. “I mean, as long as you’re gonna be late, you can at least be prepared.”
Serena nearly threw herself through the glass to get at his throat.
“Gimme my bag back! I need that!”
“It’s a nice bag. How much do you think I’ll get for it at the college bookstore?”
“How much of your face d’ya think’ll be left after I scratch it off, ya dick?”
Darien finally displayed a touch of mercy and allowed the frustrated girl to leave the store. She snatched her briefcase back as she passed him.
“Gawd, what are you, in fourth grade? It’s already been stolen once today.”
“Relax. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You, uh...know this guy, Serena?” Molly said with a nudge.
Darien couldn’t go anywhere in Cherry Hill without catching the attention of one or more high school girls at a time. Granted, he wasn’t the type to take advantage of this, although he derived a certain amount of amusement from it. He melodramatically brushed his hair back from his brow and smiled a smile that could have been on television in a heartbeat if he’d flashed it on Hollywood Boulevard.
“Hi,” he said. “Darien. Your friend’s pretty cute, Serena. Maybe you can cut your hair like hers and ditch the lop-eared rabbit look.”
Molly didn’t hear her. She was too busy giggling like an idiot.
“My name’s Molly!”
“Don’t talk to him, Molly, he’s a dick,” Serena hissed, then put on her best mock smile for her rival as she turned to leave, dragging Molly along with her.
“Oh, my God, he is hot!”
“Oh, my God, shut up.”
Serena walked headlong into something yet again, but this time her target was a person so the impact was far less painful. She almost apologized when she recognized the long, unnaturally straight hair and irritable almond eyes of yet another person in Cherry Hill who Serena scarcely knew and still hated with a passion. This cold-faced Asian’s eyes scanned over the angry blonde’s new hairdo, and the mouth, for the first time Serena knew of, expressed some emotion in the form of shock and bemusement.
“Hey, Rabbit,” the girl said with a perfectly straight face. “Pooh Bear says to pick up some hunny on the way back from your errands.”
Darien laughed his ass off ten feet away.
“Suck it,” Serena snarled, grabbing her friend once again and dragging her away to safety. “Let’s go, Molly.”
“Late again?” the girl said, smirking a little. “Haven’t they expelled your tardy ass yet?”
“Up yours! I have a busy schedule!”
The Asian laughed dismissively.
“Least I go to school!” Serena added. “Bitch…”
Molly delved back into her little chess book as the pair walked swiftly to school. By now, Serena had lost her grasp of the clock and no longer cared what time it was or how late they were. All she could think about was the stress inherent in expressing one’s self as an individual.
She was cuter with the braided pigtails, as Molly and the others had insisted. And it wasn’t the first time she’d tried something new for a change of pace, except wearing her hair up made her look like a TV mom from the Fifties, and the retro wardrobe wasn’t very well-accepted by her classmates in that no one noticed at all, and dressing like her mother was a definite no due to reasons deemed “creepy”. Growing up, she gradually cared less and less about fashion and now, in her junior year, only had a slight fancy for it. Even so, the “rabbit look” as everyone called it was fresh, and it expressed her disdain for the conformity her Japanese-founded schools had tried to pound into her generation, until their junior high days when school uniforms were finally thrown out altogether.
Most importantly, she thought it was cute. No one had the right to tell her otherwise.
“Friggin’ posh, I tells ya.”
********************
The girls finally made it to their first hour classroom, and had they arrived during first hour instead of second they might have had cause for celebration. Ms. Haruna felt benevolent enough having seen the exhausted look on Serena’s face and the pitiably witless look on Molly’s to allow them to exchange their second hour study hall for a chance to catch up, though not without the standard browbeating that, apparently, was typical of all teachers in the land of the rising sun.
“You know the drill,” the haggard woman said. “See me after class. Like a routine with you girls, I swear. Now, as I was saying...”
It was odd how changing classrooms for a day could make a person feel like they were in a foreign country. After surveying the seating arrangement, Serena found she couldn’t recognize a single person in the room, like she’d come to the wrong school altogether. Well, she did recognize Tamara, the girl nobody liked in grade school for being a teacher’s pet, and even less in high school as a student council representative. Unfortunately, the only available seats were directly in front of her.
Serena smiled at Tamara as she took her seat, as her way of saying, “Hope I can stomach sitting near you, you intolerable bitch,” without getting into trouble.
Tamara smiled back as if to say, “Thanks for acknowledging me, you condescending slut.”
Serena recognized one other person, but not as much through association as through mean-spirited rumors. The Goth (as everybody called her since nobody else at Sunny Valley High was prone to wearing a foreboding black overcoat every day) sat in the front row as attentive as any over-eager student could possibly be without looking like they were hopping on something. She’d folded her trench coat neatly over the back of her seat and was busily jotting down every word the instructor said, and, from what Serena could see, doodling like nobody’s business along the sides of the pages whenever Ms. Haruna stopped to take a breath. She couldn’t really see her face, but it was clear enough that she got most of her clothes at the local Saver’s and army surplus stores. The indigo turtleneck was admittedly somewhat cute, but seemed a bit awkward paired with black cargo pants. And the heavy black steel-toe boots on her feet looked like the type that climbed all the way up to the knee and left a trail of buckles behind that probably added twenty minutes to her morning chores. The kind of footwear that made the wearer sound twenty pounds heavier when they walked. And short black hair that matched the overcoat, and sort of spiky like a porcupine. Was she actively trying to make everyone think she was a boy?
“Hey!” Molly whispered. Everyone sitting immediately around them heard her clearly. Ms. Haruna may have as well, and just didn't care anymore.
“What?” Serena said considerably quieter. Molly giggled sheepishly and went down a few decibels.
“Who’s the new girl?” she said, pointing to the doodler in the front of class.
“We see her at lunch, remember? Sits alone all the time and reads?”
“Oh.”
“Look at the coat, man! How could you not recognize her?”
“I didn’t notice from this angle! Gimme a break! Wasn't Ashley saying something about her last week?”
“Yeah, that she tries to commit suicide every year. Dunno if it's true. Wouldn't be surprised though. Rachel said she sits alone at lunch ‘cos she eats raw chickens to appease Ba’al and doesn’t wanna be disturbed.”
“Aw, that’s mean!”
Never one to stand for gossiping during a lecture, Tamara jumped in.
“You don’t know her, so stop talking shit behind her back!”
“Shut up, Tamara,” Molly said.
“Yeah, some Catholic you are, sympathizing with a pagan,” Serena added, getting another guilty laugh out of Molly. "She using black magick to improve your grades or what?"
“Are you ladies done gossiping back there?” Ms. Haruna seemed to suddenly exist in every corner of the room. “Can I finish the lesson?”
The two girls sat in silence, watching the teacher as if nothing happened.
“I thought you were juniors,” she said, turning back to the whiteboard. “You’re behaving like sixth graders. I would know. I’ve taught both.”
As soon as she returned to the lecture, the two girls sneered at one another and rolled their eyes in unison. Molly fished her new textbook out of her book bag and turned to the appropriate chapter. Serena followed suit, but stopped when she felt something in her chest like an uncomfortable poke. Not physically, but emotionally like her soul just hiccupped.
The Goth was looking at her. Serena wouldn’t have given it another thought, like with all the other annoying kids she trash talked, if her stomach hadn't twisted upon seeing the girl’s eyes. The only other place she’d seen anything like them was in the face of her grandmother’s basset hound. They were huge and, at least for a moment, filled with the kind of hurt that anybody looking into them could instantly share. Then she remembered where she was and turned back to the front of the class to continue jotting down everything the teacher said.
Her hair wasn’t all jet black. It was a bit longer in the front than the back, and the longest strand, aligned over her left eye and brushing her left cheek, was dyed a dark metallic blue like the ocean at night. She frequently brushed this strand out of the way and behind her ear. She was a doll face, too, which Serena hadn’t noticed before. She was really pretty, or would be if she did a little more with that hair.
Serena sighed and stared out the window one row of desks to her left. It did little good for escapism. All she could see were the tops of buildings and an occasional light pole. Nothing quite like the view from the roof. Most of her classes her sophomore year had been on the top floor, and she, Molly, and Rachel (and sometimes Melvin if he wasn’t his usual weird self) would sneak onto the roof for lunch, or instead of going to class, and watch the cars drive by and listen to the birds in the courtyard chirping away. Her friends would jabber amongst themselves and she would stare off into the trees just visible in the distance that marked where the park was and lose herself in her thoughts to the merry tunes of the fairgrounds less than a mile away, back when there was a fair to speak of.
Life was complicated. Nevermind the homework and the lectures from parents about embarrassing subjects. People liked to assume irresponsibility and stupidity were the same thing, so with the exception of the two teachers and one administrator she actually liked, the whole school thought she was as braindead as her colleagues. She certainly acted it sometimes. And the few who didn’t think she was totally stupid and didn’t treat her as such always gave her brains way too much credit, as far as she was concerned. She didn’t feel like someone with an above-average IQ. She certainly didn’t look it. How many mediocre actresses was she told she resembled who probably didn’t have a brain to speak of? Psychologists were always wrong. Psychologists and their stupid IQ tests and what have you.
She fell into the category of “Pretty Girls”, as reluctant as she was to admit it except when she was in a jovial mood. Pretty girls were always stupid. Just like how fame never came to hard workers who paid their bills, didn’t do drugs, and stayed in school. It was always the druggies, delinquents, and psychos that made impacts on society.
She should’ve hurried to school anyway. She might not have gone into this state of insecurity and, instead, paid attention when Ms. Haruna announced the homework assignment.
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you recommend or rate the work highly...
Ha ha! Again, I echo what Jordan says. When Serena started using big words I had to reread the sentences to make sure. I liked the interaction between Serena and her parents. It seemed more real that in the Anime, and funnier. I also love the interaction between Serena and Darien, and even Molly and Darien! I laughed after the part where Molly found Darien hot.
And now for crits :)
"... when the thief, himself, took a turn on the Merry-Go-Round of Disorientation at the hands of a tall, heroic passer-by."
The first few times I found this confusing, but now I don't... maybe because I know what happened now. Maybe look into it?
In the paragraph beginning with "Serena’s next memory was of the front doors to the bookstore..." I found it confusing as to what just happened. I read it over a few times and decided to read on and there it was explained. I'd suggest to actually put what happened in that paragraph so other readers don't question the Macarena-dancing brain.
Another confusing sentence:
"...and stayed in school weren’t the ones to become famous."
Period-commas.
And that's it for my crits. Everything else is perfect.
I honestly enjoy your story. Serena's newfound language abilities and cynical edge are an interesting new take on the lovable klutz she normally is... I had a smile on my face as I read the exchange with her father about the lawn! Also amusing is Molly's change to an uber-ditz: I feel sorry for her, but at the same time I find it amusing to see her talk to Darien and for Serena to cut her down. Good job on characterization!
As for mechanics, I could find no grammar errors or anything of that sort here. The flow shows evidence of being thought out and is done quite well. Though I do particularly not care for Serena, I find your innovative take on Serena to be funny and refreshing. You have earned every point of the rating... be proud of this series!
Welcome !
