4

4

The bell rung loud and Karkat’s head lifted from his desk. The day was finally over. Karkat had been sleeping through his Geometry class in the back seat like he usually did. He knew all of the s****y class material, but he had failed the class last year in ninth grade because he had never turned anything in. However, Karkat had a hunch that his failure was mostly based off of his teacher’s pure hatred for him. He hated that teacher, anyway.

Karkat quickly shoved his notebook into his backpack, took out his iPod and shoved the earbuds into his ears as he darted to the door with everyone else in the class. He shoved past the nameless students and made his way through the crowded hallways to his locker. Head down, music loud, feet quick, Karkat avoided any and all contact with anyone else as he scrambled to put the books away into his locker. He didn’t want anything to do with anyone. He only wanted to get the f**k out of that school and to the library where he could have some peace. The bass of the music beat on his eardrums, rattling his brain until his mind was numb. Just get out of here, he told himself. Walk out of the school and go.

He didn’t have much reason to be in such a hurry. The sooner he got to the library, the sooner he would have to get back to work on his homework. It was odd to call it homework, seeing as he could never focus enough at home to do it. His apartment was too silent. There was only the clicking of his mother’s fingers on her keyboard. The sipping of coffee. The occasional brief phone call. But mostly just silence. To Karkat, that was the most mind-numbing noise of all. Silence.

 

Karkat sat at the large table in the back of the library. He had his music turned down a bit so he could think and concentrate on his homework, but what he was mostly focused on was the girl walking around the aisles of the library, shelving the books. She was in the fantasy section, only a ways away from where Karkat was sitting. He watched her as she took the books carefully from the cart and placed them back on the shelves. He observed the ways that she moved, the subtle, almost graceful manner that she worked in her own peaceful quiet. He stopped looking at her when he saw the old woman that worked at the main desk walk up behind Keevan. She talked to Keevan a bit but Karkat didn’t hear because of the earbuds in his ears. He glanced over once more, quickly. He noticed a silver ring on Keevan’s finger and he tensed up, biting down on his lip hard. Is that a promise ring?

The old woman walked away from Keevan, so Karkat looked back down at his homework. He gripped his pencil and exhaled. He started to work again on his homework, which was about halfway done. Karkat saw a hand from the corner of his eye that tapped his paper. He tensed up again and took his earbuds out, looking over at Keevan, who was smiling at him.

“You don’t need to be so bashful,” she said gently. “Just say hi. How are you, Karkat?”

“F-Fine, I guess,” Karkat stammered, glancing back at his homework as his heart began to race.

“Do you need some help with your homework?” Keevan asked. “I have time.”

“I can do it,” he replied quickly, holding his pencil tighter, almost to the point of hurting his hand. “You don’t need to baby me.”

“I just want to know why you keep staring at me,” Keevan said. Karkat held his breath, sunk down in his chair and yanked his hood down over his eyes.

“I have to go,” he muttered, quickly grabbing his homework and shoving it into his backpack. He felt his heart beating like a drum in his chest as he pulled his backpack onto his shoulders and hurriedly started walking to the library exit. He felt Keevan grab his sleeve to stop him.

“Karkat, wait,” Keevan said, holding tight onto his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s okay. You can stay here as long as you want. I…I have to be getting back to work, anyway.”
Karkat stayed still, not knowing what to say or do. He wanted so badly to just talk to Keevan, to just sit down and get to know her. Get to know the person behind that beautiful face that smiled at him every day when he returned that with nothing. But he couldn’t.

Keevan released his sleeve.

“Please don’t leave because of me,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to bother you, I’m sorry.” Keevan stood up from the table and pushed in her chair. “Let me know if you need help with anything, alright?” she said. “Whether it’s here or at school.”

Karkat didn’t respond at all. He was frozen in his tracks and he couldn’t look at her anymore. Keevan walked away from him as he slowly sat back down and took his homework out again. He almost felt as if he would start to cry. He didn’t understand what he should do, or what he should even feel. He pulled his hood back down low over his eyes and shoved his earbuds back in.

Why…was she acting so kind to him?

 

Don’t look back. Turn the corner. Stay in the dark. Watch your step. Keep moving. Keep your knife concealed. Don’t let anyone see you. Wait until sunset. Pull up your hood. Keep your head low. Keep breathing. Keep walking. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

Motavo directed himself as he moved in a precise course around the alleyways of the inner city strip. He had to be careful, quick, and quiet, although he felt a bit off. He shook his head to clear the worries of fault out of his head. He had to stay focused and confident that everything would go fine, nobody would see, and he would get his money. Everything would go perfectly.

He watched the sun fall over the roofs of the city buildings, the sky darkening dramatically within minutes. There was still a bit of light left as he spotted the one he would go after. Hopefully that wouldn’t make things more difficult. He observed his target. She looked a bit familiar. She was about 16 years of age, tan, long hair and lightly built. Motavo presumed that she was nothing less than a beautiful girl, raised nicely with a good, wealthy family. She wouldn’t be a challenge to deal with. He was going to make his move. He waited patiently by the corner in the dark as she walked closer. She glanced over and he ducked into the alley. She began following. It was going well.

Motavo hurried deeper into the alleyway and he heard her footsteps quickly attempting to catch up with him. He breathed in deeply and made a sharp turn back against the wall. The girl turned away from him, looking to see where the person she had been following had gone. Motavo threw out his arms, sliding the knife from his pocket, and put it tight against her throat. He clamped his other hand across her mouth before she could cry out.

“Give me every f*****g cent you have,” he murmured into her ear. “Everything you have, now.”

The girl put her hands over his and forced his palm from her mouth.

“You’re better than this,” she said quietly, fear ridden in her voice. “I know you are, whoever you are.”

Better than this? Motavo thought. He shook off her words.

“Shut up and give me the money!” Motavo shouted, putting pressure on her neck with the knife. She cried out.

“Please, stop,” the girl sobbed. “Stop this. I know you’re a better person than this…”

“You don’t know me,” Motavo said, clenching his teeth. “You’re just a plastic little Barbie girl who grew up with everything you ever wanted. Just give me all the money you have and you’ll live to see another day!”

“Today’s my birthday,” she cried. “Any other day, not today…not today!”
The girl forced Motavo’s arms away from her and started running back the way she had come from. Motavo saw her trip and fall onto the ground. She didn’t move. He was still for a moment, trying to process what the girl had said to him before. Nobody had said anything like that to him before. The words had been…kind. Why would anyone be kind to someone who had threatened their life? A stranger, nonetheless?

Motavo slowly walked over to the girl and looked down at her as she stared up. She made her cries quiet.

“What’s…your name?” she asked him, holding a hand to her throat and standing up. “You look…familiar.”

Motavo was quiet for a while, not sure if he should tell her his name. But for some reason, he felt as if…he trusted her.

“…Motavo,” he said after a long time. “Yours…?”

“Keevan,” she replied. “You’re supposed to be a junior in high school, right?”

“Yeah…”

“You went to my school,” she said. “I remember seeing you in the halls, but then I never saw you again.”

“I dropped out last year,” Motavo murmured, feeling a bit strange that she was talking to him like he was a normal person.

“Motavo, I thought you were going to mug me?” Keevan said quietly. “Why are you just standing there, knife in your hand, doing nothing?”

Motavo didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to respond anymore. He stayed silent as he lowered his gaze and let the knife drop from his hands onto the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He turned quickly and bolted from the alley as fast as his legs would allow. He didn’t mug that girl, Keevan. She had been kind to him even when he had threatened to do such a horrible thing. Why would anybody do that? Especially to him?

Motavo shook his head. He wiped his eyes as he suddenly felt liquid dripping from them. He pulled his hood down and ran faster.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

 

The funny thing about these concerts is that the music really means nothing to the people in the crowd. The level of their intoxication is the main variable of enjoyment. But other than that, there are the variables of volume, location, and time of day. Having the speakers turned up to a mind-numbing notch while playing in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night certainly seems to turn on the crowd’s enthusiasm. Although the thing that I’m most interested in tonight is the apparel of the band in question that affects how the audience enjoys a concert. For example, the lead guitarist of a particular band is dressed in quite a ferociously unorthodox manner (however that is to be expected from a modern alternative band such as this). The thing that mainly sticks out is the clownish makeup that he has slathered all over his face. It’s quite a sight. The white and gray conflicts with the burn of his darkened skin - he is most likely of a Hispanic background, I conclude from observation - enough so that it stands out. Although, his level of attractiveness may be another variable of his oddities. I personally find his unique looks to be charming, in a manner. One may say that this individual is of fine specimen"

Aestus stopped typing as she realized what she had written for the last few lines. She quickly deleted the lines of the document as her face burned. She pushed her glasses up with a finger and adjusted her position on the hood of her car. She looked up at the band playing on a raised wooden platform. It was quite literally in the middle of nowhere, as the parking lot was quite barren besides the mass of drunken partygoers in the audience.  It was almost difficult to hear the end of the song behind the screaming and cheering. Nonetheless, Aestus enjoyed these concerts. Partially to observe the behavior of the crowds for her own personal research. But the main reason that she attended every one of these concerts was to observe one specific individual. The lead guitarist of the band, who had just grabbed the microphone and grinned into the audience as they hollered. Gamzee Makara.

“This song is dedicated to my best friend,” he said, his voice echoing through the speakers. “I love her and I hope she has an awesome birthday.”

Aestus stared at him intently, her fingers still hovering above the keyboard of her laptop. She felt her shoulder subtly tense when he said the words I love her. But it was silly to be worked up about something so childish. Aestus kept her composure with ease as the band began to play a hard rock version of the song Happy Birthday.

The audience was going wild as they pumped their fists into the air and danced around, their intoxication quite blatant. Aestus smirked to herself when she imagined what a nice time they would all have in the morning to deal with their hangovers. She then turned her gaze back to Gamzee as he played the guitar and sang. His fingers strummed the strings and he swayed with the music, losing himself as Aestus had observed so many a time. Although the music was deafening and the beat was fast, she saw what a pure enjoyment that Gamzee took in playing the music. She knew very little of his background or his activities beside these concerts, but she had memorized his quirks, his body language, and the small little oddities that made him so unique from anyone she had ever seen before. He was a rarity.

The song ended and the crowd screamed for an encore. The band shouted no into their microphones and the audience groaned in disappointment, all disbanding drunkenly and wandering off of the parking lot, some remaining to talk or flirt with the band members. Gamzee quickly put his guitar back into the case and jumped from the stage, running into the lot. Aestus felt her cheeks burn as she scrambled to shut her laptop and get down from the hood of her car. Gamzee ran right past her, coming not only four feet away as he sped by. Aestus felt a rush of heat blow against her face and she bit down on her lip, hurrying into her car and setting the laptop down. She shuffled around for her keys and put them into the ignition. Before she grabbed the steering wheel, she looked up. Gamzee was standing with a younger girl beside a tree outside of the lot. She was quite attractive. Aestus guessed that she was about 16, presumably a sophomore in high school. She must have been the girl that the happy birthday performance had been dedicated to. Gamzee was grinning as he gave her a hug. Aestus felt some kind of a pang in her heart and she tightly gripped the wheel, her fingers making indents in the leather. She looked away, not desiring to see anymore or think anything more of what she had seen.

Aestus backed up her car and drove from the lot, avoiding the possibility of running over any lingering drunken audience members. She had a tight feeling of distress in the pit of her stomach. It was an unfamiliar, unpleasant feeling.

Who was that girl?