Thursday, April 8, 2027
This is Rose Lalonde (and never ever "Ava Teague" or whatever my mother's new husband wants me to go by) again. I know you know my last days were terrible, but this day was more terrible than ever. To begin with,
The fourteen-year-old blonde looking at her diary put her purple-writing pen's other end to her head, held it like that a little bit, then, sighing, put it down and closed the book.
Rose simply did not have any words to describe what happened,or should she say, is happening every work day she has. Bullying? Already said. Outright violence? Also already said. Serious injuries? Didn't happen yet, but no one ever knows. Heavens of Lovecraftian monsters forbid. Then again, if tomorrow was so terrible that medical assistance was needed, she wouldn't have anyone to confess to.
Now if you think "but she has Internet friends!", you're wrong. To Internet friends, she plays a completely different role. There she is the smart lady and always willing to help. And if anyone was to learn the life she truly lived every work day, she would likely burst into tears. The Internet was her way of living an entirely different life, but confessions were to be held to her and her alone.
No one should know of how Rose Lalonde truly feels, ever. Not her family. Not the school's psychologist. No one.
Rose glanced at other props that were hanging around her little room. She could see books for lessons for the next day prepared, the table lamp that was the only source of light in the ever-shortening night of April, the diary she just closed, various knitting projects and a CD player with a disc inserted.
Pulling the earphones attached to the player, Rose noticed an empty CD case. She took the case and read the inscriptions.
Avril Lavigne * Gerard Way
A woman and a man with haircuts made to resemble a flying saucer and a mockingjay, respectively, stared from the case. Avril's face was deliberately darkened so only her lips were visible, and Gerard's only facial feature was the sunglasses covering his eyes. That was the time they were still married, Rose noted. Last year, Mr. Way divorced and left Avril with their three kids, all female, but that was only the beginning of the disaster.
Out of all people she could pick for a new love interest, she married a children's book writer, and he did not quite like her daughters' names.
And that was where "Ava Teague" came from.
Rose looked at the other side of the case, listing the tracks.
1. Velvet Horror
2. Green Ghost
3. Ashen Record
4. Teal Atom
5. Pink Mutant
6. Cyan Beast
7. Orange Hat
8. Emerald Terror
9. Sepia Kitty
10. Blue Magnet
11. Light Green Editor
12. Lavender Freak
Truly the mixture of colors and mayhem the names provided.
Rose turned on the player and put the earphones on. The gothic emo beats, melodies and lyrics filled her head, and helped her relax for a while.
Then something buzzed.
Huh? Rose turned off the musical equipment and took off her phone from her pocket. It was a gift from her mother for the last birthday she had. While a mundane pocketable rod when not used, it could change shape into a rectangle the size of an outdated Apple iPad, and a paper-thin plastic sheet also extended and could be used as a touch screen. It was really neat, but an ordinary piece of latest technology for 2027.
She glanced over the screen and immediately found something of importance. It was one of her Internet friends, but not the green ghost John, ashen record Dave or teal atom Jade.
It was the alien girl from the spaceship currently grounded on the Moon, from what everyone called the First Contact.
Everyone knew the story. Two months ago, twelve kids, all six "solar sweeps" in their time but thirteen to fifteen years in Earth time, looking like humans but with differently shaped candy corn horns, gray skin and yellow eyes, arrived here from their home planet Alternia as banished exiles, hoping to integrate into the Earth's society instead.
And out of eight billion people to contact, one of the "trolls" as they called themselves, the jade-blooded Kanaya Maryam, started talking fairly frequently to Rose to the point of a romance, or a "redrom", developing between them.
Rose looked at what Kanaya had to say this time.
- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]
GA: If You Were Looking At Your Earth Human Calendar
GA: You Might Have Noticed That It Is Only One Day Until We Contact Each Other
GA: In Person
TT: Yes, it sure is.
TT: After school day, I'm going to the train station of my town, and it will be obvious which one is you, and taking photos and autographs is forbidden on your request.
TT: I know all the details.
GA: Very Well
GA: See You Tomorrow
TT: See you.
- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]
But Rose knew much more than that. In the interface of Pesterchum, she navigated to the logs of past conversations, and clicked on one from last week.
Everything from the conversation was recorded in minute detail. The proposal to meet itself, the arrangement, and, if psychoanalysis was to be applied, even Rose's and Kanaya's precise emotions, including the part where the blonde was about to faint from the proposal itself.
She turned off Pesterchum and put her… whatever it was on the table, in the mundane rod shape. She then put her music back on, listened to it for a while and then shut it off.
That wasn't the mood the whole meeting thing was supposed to set.
Why restrict your children to one and only one music style anyway?
But Rose wasn't going to have a really long thought about it. She looked down at her current attire - white Squiddles!(TM) tee re-painted so the purple friendly glubbing medoosa looked like an eldritch Lovecraftian horrorterror instead, white skirt and purple stocking, then dressed off and dressed into purple pyjamas with a moon symbol, and shut off the lamp so she could get a good night's sleep.
And what tomorrow had in store for her was nothing to worry about. She and Kanaya would meet that day, and nothing else was to worry about.