Exhausted (Steve)

I woke up in the middle of the night feeling downright drained. Caitlin slept soundly next to me and seemed to involuntarily search for me. Her emotional state declined rapidly with each day that passed. I could see it on her arms, hear it in her music, and just overall feel this lingering numbness in the air. No, Caitlin. I don't want one of your students to find you half dead from an overdose. You mean too much to me for that.

Deciding to further research the rescue wife phenomenon, I found that self-injury actually has little connection with the phenomenon. Declining health, however, had a definite connection. I looked down at Caitlin's slight frame. She can't afford to lose any weight. Her face was even more pale than it usually is. I pulled out my phone to leave a message for Farkas.

Sorry for the awkward time, but I need to unload. 

To my surprise, he replied.

No problem. I can't sleep myself. What do you need?

I told him the whole story, or at least what I could muster with a keyboard and predictor app.

Caitlin isn't doing very well. She lost a lot of weight and is very lethargic. She's been cutting more and deeper. I need help. I didn't go into detail about how she nearly passed out from blood loss from self-injury alone.

I understand. Anna's been in low states before, but nothing like what you describe. Go take a break and fight some monsters to clear your head.

Let's face it. Armor is one of the most awkward things ever to get on and off, but the feeling is so worth it. I had a full diamond set that one of the AP Mining students gave to me for slaying the dragon. Being a hero has its perks.

I went outside, sword in hand. The chill of the night air seemed to welcome me. I spotted a zombie and my body knew the rest of the steps. Every breath and swing of my sword cleansed my soul, like a kind of music that cannot be heard, but felt. The tune to World's End Dancehall played through my mind. I danced a terrible kind of stumbling dance through my combat, but I could tell it was graceful in its own right. The weight of the armor allowed me to feel every step.

Other people fought alongside me, though not with me. They varied greatly in age. I found a creeper, kicked off a tree to charge, and took it out in one hit. About three kids asked if they could take the spoils for themselves. I consented. Seeing their happy faces brought joy to my heart. I realized that Carmen, Caitlin's clarinet student, was among them. She twirled her sword and continued fighting alongside her friends.

When my energy ran out, I collapsed near a tree, caught my breath, and realized that I had been gone for three hours. I made my way home thinking of Caitlin. She usually slept soundly next to me, but when I so much as shifted, she stirred looking for me. Knowing that she was probably awake looking for me, a wave of guilt washed over me. Thank you, Farkas, for that terrible advice. I feel even worse now!

Caitlin was still asleep, but was tossing and turning. When I got back in, she found my side as if she knew it all her life. Her feeling safe meant the world to me as she rarely ever has the opportunity to feel safe. I, however, could not sleep for the life of me. Caitlin always found a way to sleep. If she could do nothing else on a particular day, she slept. I had no such luxury. Sometimes, it feels like my body propels me into a variety of situations.

The next morning, my head throbbed with pain. It felt like something was striking the inside of my skull with a pickaxe. A plate of bacon and eggs was in front of me, but I couldn't bring myself to eat. I picked at the eggs and spit them out because I couldn't taste them over the pain in my head.
          "I thought you liked bacon and eggs." Caitlin looked confused, hurt even, as she said this. Since my device was being repaired and customized to better suit my needs, I did not have it on me. I had to teach beginning band today. The instruments were held up due to shipping delays (AAAAA!!!!), so I'd take it as an opportunity for my students and I to get to know each other. "You should stay home if you feel sick. I'll take care of you." she said again. I just had a headache. I held my head in my hands and Caitlin finally figured out my problem. She gave me a stalk of nether wart to chew on, which I bit into reluctantly seeing that it was oozing some kind of red-colored secretion. It tasted like a mixture of cough syrup, aspirin, and burnt toast; I almost spit the secretions out. I managed to force everything down my throat with Caitlin's careful encouragement. She rubbed my back during the entire thing. (I'm not sure why, but it felt nice. Her small hands are magic.) When my headache subsided, I ate my bacon and eggs slowly. It was cold, but still good.

The meeting was boring and useless to the fine arts department. It was mostly about how to boost test scores. How about boosting morale? Mindcrack needs some of that. Mindcrack was not meant to be a hardcore academic school and it will never succeed at being so. If parents want that kind of school, they should send their children elsewhere. This is a place where you learn things like compassion and self-awareness, but it's not like that's important. Right? I'm trying to allow students escape that in my band program.

Speaking of the band program, my twelve newest students came through the door. They took their seats. Alex looked excited to start her sixth grade career at Mindcrack Initiate Training Academy. The others looked nervous. Adrian took his seat behind Alex. The others took their places. When Kaito came in, he took his place at the end. I brought out my notes and pointed at the students with my baton to indicate when it was their turn to speak.

Caitlyn-6th Grade-Flute-Is doing cross country and has three Siamese cats.
Nathalie-7th Grade-Flute-Fluent in French and a friend of Alex.

Kiyoshi-6th Grade-Clarinet-Is on a club parkour team.
Stephen-8th Grade-Clarinet-Is on the Mindcrack Middle School parkour team.
Zoie-7th Grade-Clarinet-Is on both a club and the school parkour team.

Felix-6th Grade-Alto Sax-Once killed three creepers with a single arrow.
Aisha-6th Grade-Alto Sax-Hates meatballs and knows how to string a bow.

Adrian-7th Grade-Trumpet-Did not choose clarinet because he doesn't want to be compared to his mom.
Alex-6th Grade-Trumpet-Sang on national TV yesterday. (Girl's got guts.)
Jiro-6th Grade-Trumpet-Does not want to be a sushi chef.

Adrienne-6th Grade-Trombone-Went to the extreme hills once and found an emerald.
Kaito-6th Grade-Euphonium-Enjoys making onigiri and going to his social club.

I followed the Twitter feed regarding Caitlin's television appearance and found these gems:

OnYourMark: hey smol bean!!!!!!!!!!!! *string of random emoticons that make absolutely no sense* #ClarinetCaitlin (Leave it to Mark to insert a complete non-sequitur.)

LandonLakesButter: She's a real person, not some figurehead. Stop bashing her over the head with your words and maybe she'll take your input. #ClarinetCaitlin #angry #hypocrisy #why #stupid #disability

TheRealAlisha: If you have nothing better to do than harass my sister, someone who is NOT ACTIVELY HARMING ANYONE, then your lives are pretty sad. #ClarinetCaitlin #stop #harassment

MinecraftTimes: We will shut down the feed if you guys do not take your discussion elsewhere. They are disrupting the program.

They eventually shut down the feed because no one contributed anything relevant to the discussion and nearly everyone just insisted on throwing verbal rocks at Caitlin (and her students, which is kind of unfair) for a variety of reasons. Nathan's director even went as far as to tell her that she should die. Bad example much? I can't believe that students are stuck with that sorry excuse of a "teacher".

Love and Hate (Landon)

Landon LaCoste is the name of a murderer, a high school student who turned on his classmates. It is the name of a loner, the one who supposedly could not understand anything in class. Such is the name of the boy life subjected to degradation on a regular basis, who had to hide his homework in his shoes and have trash dumped on his head nearly every one of his days at Havencraft High School.

It is my name. It is my curse to bear.

I have decided against changing my name because it was never mine in the first place. My parents chose it and I have to deal with it. Along with that came the associations I built upon it. When I stood before the cameras, I had no defense except for a wink and walking collectedly to my sentence. I projected confidence knowing I could die later in the week.

Because my parents pleaded for my life and liberty, I got off way lighter than I should have. I filled in for Caitlin to get Alice ready for next year. Alice looked uneasy in my presence. I was lucky to be in this place, to be able to add something better to my name as well as practice a passion.
          "Let's start with some long tones," I suggested, trying to get Alice to do something other than sit there and fidget with her horn. She raised her horn to face without a word. I had heard about Alice before. Her hands were covered with cracks and bruises, likely from working. She had a certain heaviness about her soul, the kind that comes with unrecognized heroism. Alice pulled out something she wanted to work on from her method book. I corrected a few of her errors and mostly worked with her on confidence. However, something still sounded off in the music. It sounded robotic, flat.

It is interesting how students' emotional states and, thus, musical tendencies, fluctuate in response to their leaders suffering. Alex kept her sound in the back of her throat rather than projecting it forward. This lent her songs a darker, richer timbre. She still had high spirits, but I could tell she was troubled. It is girls like these who are dismissed as "airheads". However, the extra air helps her stay afloat in ties of trouble. Alice's music became flat, detached, and uninteresting. I stopped her and suggested that we work on a slow minor piece. She thought, picked something, and played it. It was still uninteresting. Frustrated, I told Alice to put her horn down.
          "Am I playing well, Mr. LaCoste?" She asked genuinely, not seeking affirmation in the slightest. She actually seemed to search for criticism.
         "You're just making notes. They are correct notes, but not music. Work on your articulations and dynamics."
         "Okay." She played through the piece again, sounding markedly better. However, it sounded hollow, as if there were no soul to it. It would have to do for now. I dismissed her and decided to go for a walk.

Though I wield no weapon, I am trained in unarmed combat. I got into a skirmish with a creeper, throwing kicks and punches as well as dodging. I kept my eye on my target, dancing through each move as if I were fluid. The flow of movements released everything. I continued with finding targets, beating them into a pulp, and harvesting whatever spoils I happened to want at the moment. I felt a movement coming up behind me and I whirled around with another punch.

I felt something behind me. I stopped, looked around, and proceeded. However, I felt it getting closer. I braced myself to throw a punch only to hear the someone cry out.
          "Don't hurt me!" He had a messy crop of black hair and was shielding his face. I had noticed that he was shorter than me, by about six inches or so.
          "Why shouldn't I?" Over the last few days, I had endured a lot. I've had people throw rotten food and yell insults at me because of something that happened nearly six years ago. Some lady tried to kill me because of the Havencraft shooting. Was she a Havencraft student at the time? No. Was she the parent of a Havencraft student? No. She had no ties whatsoever with Havencraft, so I don't know why she tried to rip my head off. I couldn't take any chances with this guy either lest he try to do the same. It seems that I can't go one day without people assaulting me or at least trying to.
          "I don't mean any harm! I honestly don't." He held his hands up to signify that he meant no harm. However, I noted the dagger at his side. The startled gaze suggested that I had caught him off guard. He looked genuinely scared. I relaxed in posture, but still remained suspicious.
          "Who are you?" Whoever he was, he didn't really look human. He didn't look like a villager. I suspected that he had Ender blood running through his veins.
          "I...I'm Phillip. Phillip Evans. I was looking for Everan."
          "Who is Everan?" What did I just walk into?
          "My boyfriend. He's the best guy ever. I don't think you should try to punch him in the face, though. You look unsettled. I hope you're not a homophobe!" His face turned cold and glasslike.
          "I'm not. I just didn't expect you to cross my path."
          "That I get a lot." Phillip paused. "What's your name? You never introduced yourself." I braced myself to let that curse slip past my lips. 
          "Landon LaCoste."
          "You say that like it's a bad thing." Phillip looked up at me with innocent concern.
          "If you knew what my name was associated with, you'd think the same. By the way, what does this Everan look like? What's he doing here?"
          "He went to fulfill a task of some sort. I don't know why we ended up...where is this?"
          "You're in Minecraft. This is a plains biome. I'll help you." He handed me a description of Everan Thenath. Noting the dark circles under his eyes, I suggested he rest with me at my house.
          "But...Everan could be dead...or worse." Tears started to roll down Phillip's cheeks and then his whimpers turned into full on sobbing. Having never loved, I wanted him to have a chance.
          "It's okay. I saw a guy who fits your description doing some dance-like moves in combat. He was at these coordinates." His spirits lifted and we parted ways. At first, I felt good having done something good for someone who didn't know my history. However, a sinking feeling overtook me. I would need to return to the hatred of tomorrow, to scrubbing dried rotten food out of my hair and the smell of burning corpses haunting my mind. 

Never Enough (Caitlin)

All right. It's time for another fitting. Arlene helped me into my dress, something she was probably used to doing. She handed me my cane and allowed me to support myself before she laced it up. The fit was looser than I had remembered it. All the stress of the recent events had probably caused my weight to drop from 90 to 85 pounds. Andrew had told me that I needed to eat more. However, that did not help on the days I couldn't even bring myself to lift a fork.

The shoes fit like a dream and the veil cascaded in layers of fine, almost transparent tulle and fell at my fingertips. A diadem of pearls complimented it well. The dress itself looked like I was wearing a gentle breeze, the kind that cools you off on a hot day. It cascaded in the same translucent layers and the bodice, studded with just the right amount of pearls and rhinestones, still fit reasonably well. No one was at the fitting, just me. I looked in the mirror and the woman staring back at me was but a stranger.

How could I possibly be her with that radiant smile and almost perfect posture? It would be her walking down the aisle and not me. Instead of flowers, I ordered crystalline decorations. I loved flowers and I had to compromise on that for my health. As a little girl, I had always envisioned myself making my way towards my hero surrounded by the lushest blooms. Gracefully descending a flight of stairs in a long dress (or any attire, really) was not an option either.

Arlene must have noticed the tears in my eyes because she handed me a tissue and sat beside me. I told her how I felt.
          "I understand."
          "Really?"
          "Well, not from my own experience, but a lot of brides with disabilities feel the way you do when they have to sacrifice beauty for accessibility. I've been in this industry for thirty years now." That still didn't quell the sting I felt. I never asked for much as a child, even in my dreams. The only thing I wanted was flowers and now I can't have them. It is rare that I make selfish wishes, but, when I do, they are a big deal to me. "I would have wanted you to have all the flowers in the world if you could, so I'll switch out the pearl headpiece for any headpiece and other accessories your heart desires absolutely free. She helped me back into my original outfit.

I passed through the headpiece displays. Though undoubtedly beautiful, most of them were too ostentatious for me. Others I looked at with a pragmatic rather than romantic eye. That could impale me if I had a seizure. If I needed IV meds, wearing gloves and/or bracelets would impede access to my veins. Those EMTs cannot lose any time! Why was I still thinking about medical stuff? I settled on a fabric flower circlet with pearls in the center of each flower. It matched the details on my dress.

I made my way towards my neurologist's after wiping my tears. Dr. Chen has a talent for having high spirits and a light heart, even in the most trying circumstances. However, she has a mind as sharp and quick as an enchanted diamond sword. She stood before me with her usual smile and gliding gait and asked me a question that was simple enough.
          "How are you?" I wanted to say I was doing well, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I gave my usual response hoping to move on from this as quickly as possible. "Well, I have some good news, some neutral news, some bad news. I'll give you the good news first." I needed a ray of hope and Dr. Chen knew how to find them. It was her specialty.
          "What is it?"
          "Your meds seem to be doing their job, so there's no need for adjusting dosages or adding anything. Everything looks stable at this point. Oh, and one of my other patients wants your autograph." I signed a notebook with a little note that read: "I hope you find happiness." She took it and stored it somewhere. "Now, for the neutral news. You're due for another EEG in about two weeks." I didn't really like being deprived of sleep, but what must be done must be done. These tests were just a nuisance to me, nothing more.
          "And now for the bad news?" I braced myself for this the best I could. I found my fingers tapping out a scale on my lap.
          "Your epilepsy isn't the result of your brain injury. It's genetic." She pulled up a monitor and showed me my DNA. "This is the mutation that's causing it, the SCN8A mutation. The gene controls sodium channels." She proceeded to lecture on the function of said gene in some technical language I'm pretty sure only doctors can understand. "And it can pass onto your children should you have any. You should tell Steve about it."

I don't remember anything after that except for feeling nauseous and like the world was swirling around me. I couldn't breathe or do much of anything in that moment but flail helplessly in a sea of anxiety. Somehow, I had lost nothing in that moment, but experienced the most grief I ever had. How did this day know how to prey on my heart's deepest desires? I didn't remember anything after that because I was probably unconscious.

When I came out of that state, I couldn't recognize anything as familiar. Where in the world was I? I had no energy to fight, though. I heard someone tell me to go to sleep, an order I gladly obliged to. This person sat on the edge of the bed and let me sleep. I had no idea why everything was so bright and cold, but, being too tired to care, I let sleep wash away the cares.

The End spread out before me as it had before, its chilly air and sparse landscape peppered with void holes. Instinctively, I felt for my cane. I had no such device. Daring to venture out further, I looked around at memorable spots such as the obsidian chip Alisha used to slice off the tattoo-like birthmark every sister of ours has. It looks like a black and purple rose with a leaf on the right side and it appears on the base of the neck. The mark is about two pixels long. It started to reappear on my skin, but it retained the jagged edge from her crude incision.

I saw the spires the Ender Dragon once flew around, glad that Steve had slayed that awful thing. Oh, Steve. Could I be better to you...or at least not useless? I heard faint chords playing in the distance more akin to resultant tones. There, I saw a hooded figure. Just as it showed its face, I slowly opened my eyes and regained my memory. This was the neurology office, judging by the "I Love Brains" poster hanging on the wall.
         "Are you ready?" A voice came. It seemed vaguely familiar. "It's Landon LaCoste."
         "Yes." We exited together. Where was Steve? As if to answer my internal question, Landon told me he was working with some middle school students on embouchure after their director basically abandoned them. Yep. Classic Steve that is, always stepping in and saving people from stuff whether it's dragons or fracking high notes.

I am never getting enough of that guy.

What They Thought (Steve)

Apologies in advance for 

Apparently, the press was eating up my time in the psych ward. I was bombarded with questions I longed to answer, but couldn't. I missed the heat of the sun, the chill of a mineshaft's air, and the weight of a sword in my hand. I didn't like the tacky feeling in my mouth (antidepressant side effects), but at least I could soar with the music! It's honestly a small price to pay. The coming school year would be a good one. I was especially looking forward to meeting Kaito.

We were getting the instruments set up for trying. I had a large bottle of sanitation spray handy. The reeds were nice and soaked. Cane gathering is rather fun in Minecraft. The Minecraft Symphony Orchestra uses a variety of reed materials. Whether to start beginners on spruce or sugar cane is a popular debate. Sugar cane does not leave residue if it is treated properly by squeezing out the juice, soaking it, and re-drying it. Pieces that are too sweet can be eaten or made into sugar. Caitlin bakes cookies with this sugar. They are far superior to the village bakery's cookies and, thus, more effective in motivating students (and me).

Speaking of Caitlin, I found her with at least fifty self-inflicted cuts on each arm yesterday. They were rather deep too as there was blood dripping on the floor. The sight made me sick with worry, but it is a sight I knew all the same called the "rescue wife phenomenon" (which can also apply to husbands, but it mainly happens to females because of tradition and whatnot). I "researched" (read: asked around meeting interesting people) this hoping to better understand Caitlin's perspective. The phenomenon is incidents of depression in these so-called "rescue spouses" due to feeling useless. It occurs mostly in quiet, altruistic, and sensitive types who have been abused for long periods of time.

I opened the bento box she packed for me. It was diamond blue with a creeper on the lid. Thinly sliced strips of teriyaki chicken and an assortment of vegetables were in one box. Apple wedges with tiny sword skewers were in another; they were likely a hint to not get my fingers sticky. They were juicy, sweet and crisp with a hint of lemon juice. I rummaged around for a fork in the box and, instead, I found chopsticks. Really? You have got to be kidding me. I ended up stabbing the chicken with a chopstick to eat it. Setting up an instrument booth is harder work than it sounds like it is. The sales associates were given a primer on what to expect. I just let the students try the instruments for themselves to see what works best. I don't pressure them into picking things they don't want to play because study without desire, especially of an instrument, makes it not worth doing at all.

Since the students wouldn't arrive for another 500 ticks, I decided to check my Twitter. I had so many follower notifications alone that the notification box wouldn't display the number. Surprisingly, none of them looked like spam bots. Mental Health in Minecraft mentioned me in one of their posts about  how pressure to "be the hero" can damage one's psyche. They linked to the article. Mark (@OnYourMark) sent me some weird memes and then said "Help my friend (@SteveDoesTrumpet) come back!" Caitlin's Twitter was filled with psychology and music-related stuff as usual. Some of it was in French, so I couldn't understand it. She posted a quote and tagged me a day ago. ("You can cry and still be a hero.")

A multitude of people gave me death threats because Alice found me. They said I was "selfish" for "letting" my seventh grader (at the time) find me. Well, since I was unconscious, I couldn't control who found me. In fact, I didn't think anyone would have found me in time. Alice should have a crack at the camera for her heroism. All I did was kill a dragon. She saved my life by doing the right thing when no one else had the guts to do it. So many people are true heroes in their own right; why is everyone wasting their time on me? Not wanting to dwell on the matter, I turned my attention to another thing that grabbed my attention.

There was a rather long discourse on Caitlin's personality; a disability representation blogger said she was "too humble" and asked "Why isn't she the hero herself?" Several people followed in assent with things like "She perpetuates the "disability angel" stereotype". Others said her humility was a symptom of depression. That was only marginally true. Even in her happiest states, she still blushed at a compliment and preferred the shadow of the background over the glare of the spotlight. Caitlin is one of those people who is more comfortable playing second trumpet than first. Landon (@LandonLakesButter) told them "Stop. Let her be who she is. It's hypocrisy to tell other people how to act when you are unwilling to conform yourselves. #why". That tweet was enough to make me pause. How did Caitlin turn her former tormentor into another ally? She seemed to have a talent for that. Alisha (@TheRealAlisha) chimed in with "You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind. Hang in there, sister. @ClarinetteCaitlin".

I said, with the help of a predictor app that "learns my language", so to speak the following:

"Humility is a virtue I deeply respect. If you don't like it, that's not Caitlin's problem. It's yours."

After that, I proceeded to get every student outfitted with their instrument. With most, I had a keen sense of who would play what; some others I had no idea about.

(A/N: Do I get bonus points for the Hamilton reference?)