Doing a Mambo (Steve)

It's all my fault.

That same memory of the snow played in my mind over and over again. The EMTs carted Cory off the hospital. Back at home, I was in tears. I felt like the world had ended for me. It didn't help that my other brothers called me the spawn of the Ender Dragon day in and day out. I came out of it feeling sick and tired, not of any particular thing, just feeling like dirt in general. I curled up into a ball and just waited. There were a thousand things I wanted in this moment. I wanted to hear the sound of my band, of Alex's voice singing for Caitlin, of Andrew telling me for the millionth time that things will be alright even if he didn't know that they would be.

But I couldn't have them. My band broke off into sectionals. Alex was in school. Caitlin was teaching a class. Andrew was with a patient. I felt like vomiting. I was shaking violently and I felt cold even though there was no AC in the room. Andrew described the shaking as seizure-like in an attempt to explain what I felt, but I would have none of it. That description made me have one of these weird panic attacks. After getting me to calm down with Caitlin's aid, he put a blanket over me and let me sleep. Andrew's practice is weird to a lot of people, but it works for me. He will talk to you and let you cry on his shoulder before writing a prescription. He saved one of my students' lives by talking them out of suicide. I have even seen him write prescriptions for affection and attention as well as medications.

I pulled myself out of my daze, staggered to my feet, and alerted my band to rehearsal. The percussion was overpowering in Mambo. Kyle, on toms, lowered his stick height. The others, however, did not follow suit.
          "Play quieter, percussion." I struggled to get the words out. We ran through the passage again. Andreas complained that he couldn't hear himself or the other second flutes. I quieted the first flutes and ordered Andreas to come out more. As usual, the alto saxophones were fine. They weren't the most confident, but they were okay. As I conducted the band, I became fully absorbed in their music. The steadily pounding percussion replaced my racing heart. The trumpet flourishes, the flutes' high notes, and the steady bass line lifted my spirits. The excitement of the music took the place of the thoughts spiraling in my head. When I cut off, the band said things like "That was really good!" and "I hope it's like this for the concert!" I agreed.

The concert was today. I thought for sure I would puke on the flute section during rehearsal, but I was so excited I was not bothered by the swirling music before me. My guitar class filled in. Emilia seemed to be in better spirits. Her guitar skills improved tenfold within the last month. The song she played was sweet and bright, but at the same time plaintive. Now that Adrian was out of the hospital, she seemed happier,but still maintained that thoughtful air. Drew, another guitar student, needed help with a scale. It turned out that he was playing just fine, but that his guitar was very out of tune. After working through it for about half an hour I eventually found out that Drew's guitar was out of tune.

At home, I found Caitlin standing outside the door with a puddle at her feet. Her pants were wet as well. She was crying as well. I checked my pocket for the house key and found it. I unlocked the door and we went in.
         "Today, didn't you wear..?" Totally wrong sequence!
         "I was wet when I got home and I had to go again. However, I was locked out, so I..." Caitlin burst into tears again. In her small, quivering voice, she asked "Can you change me? The toilet paper holder keeps breaking under my weight."
         "I will. Let's get you cleaned up."
 I really should get a grab bar for Caitlin so she doesn't have to risk falling in the bathroom. However, I never seem to get around to doing it. I assisted in drying her legs so she wouldn't have to bend over too much and risk a fall. After that, I helped her re-diaper and put on another pair of pants. After that, she thanked me and ended up falling asleep in my arms. It was common for her to be tired and need a nap at the end of the day, but she rarely included me in her repose. To watch her in this ultimately vulnerable, yet peaceful state calmed my nerves. Feeling the delicate wisp of hot air she exhaled after each breath and the silkiness of her hair soothed me more than music.

I got up and changed into my tuxedo, which was an awkward and cumbersome thing to put on. Aside from that, I looked good and felt awesome in it. Caitlin woke up and tied my tie (because I couldn't) as well as making sure I had my Mambo score. She made sure I took my stomach medicine so I wouldn't be too queasy during the concert. After a good luck hug, I went on my way.

At Mindcrack, I warmed up the band. The flutes were atrociously out of tune, the saxophones weren't articulating well, and the trumpets were too loud. These were just minor problems, which I tried over and over again. Andreas was flat despite having his flute in all the way. A clarinet was sharp. Kyle was playing the toms too loud. (For goodness sakes, Kyle! Your stick height is 24 inches! Half that will do.)

I should let the music take over.

I mambo-ed through the problems and rolled with the screw in Andreas's flute coming loose. (Bad day for Andreas.) Andreas finally fixed his flute and re-joined the band. When the time came for the concert, my students filed in order of section and sat down to watch the numbers that came before us.

As usual, Mrs. Abbot completely monopolized the concert with some boring music from the choir and note block ensembles. What a waste of their talent! Have them sing their hearts out! This choir needs someone like Alex to liven things up. Emmeline's sax could elevate their "jazz number". Luckily, the time came quickly when the band had to play and awaken the audience! Finally!

The band and I strode onto the stage. Each member filed into their seat. When everyone settled in, I raised my baton and conducted. I didn't even look at my score for the most part, just mambo-ing through the music with the Mindcrack band. They sounded like an entirely different ensemble, more composed and balanced. One of the Minecraft SO's flutists is named Andreas; my Andreas sounded exactly like him. An alacrity was in the band that had never been present before.

When I lowered my baton, I felt great. The crowd roared and whistled for the band, whose members totally earned that applause. I gestured towards the band because they worked hard for this. Mrs. Abbot tried glaring disapprovingly at the audience, but that just caused the cheers to swell louder. The dance team was supposed to go up, but TNT blew off the roof of the theater.

The dance team drew their swords and fought. Seriously, dancers make the best fighters. I charged into the fray penguin suit and all. Andreas speared a creeper in the head with his flute. Kyle threw various percussion instruments at a blaze, which made for some interesting sounds. Everyone sprang into battle when I saw a woman leaping from hole to hole in the roof. She looked like Caitlin, but was definitely not her. She had these icy blue eyes, like a twisted version of Vivienne.

Then, I saw another figure trying to get her attention. The figure's gait alone indicated that it was Caitlin! I motioned for her to get down, but she refused. On and on they debated until Caitlin did something amazing. When the other woman fired an arrow, Caitlin caught it and shot it back at a skeleton. That shot made the skeleton clatter to pieces. She used her cane to block a zombie attack and soon descended into the room using the same climbing technique she uses to get from the floor into a chair. After that, she found me and, breathless, she said
         "She told me...a lot of things. I never realized..." She puffed on her inhaler. "I never realized the toll the slaying took on her. She feels displaced. She feels lost. But that does not give her the right to hurt you." I was taken aback. Emmeline came from behind me and met Caitlin and the woman I now identified as Samantha Netherfield. While they talked, I mambo-ed into the fray along with my students. It was only natural that I fight at their side.

 

(A/N: This is probably what Steve's band would have played at the concert.)

The Lost Sister (Caitlin)

The next morning, I met a girl at the door. From underneath her impeccably worn suit shone a confident repose that marked a natural leader. Each piece of music is Looking at her was like looking into a mirror of my own hopes and dreams. She heavily resembled Alisha with the sharp, penetrating gaze from her kaleidoscopic eyes boring into my soul.
         "Caitlin?" She recognized me almost immediately. I wanted to say "Emmeline?" in reply, but, once again, my words got caught in my throat. We shared no warm embrace, but Emmeline sat down as Steve ran into the room fretting about something. Something told me that he was reliving an upsetting memory, but I wasn't sure what. He panicked and cried out for help. Emmeline looked confused, but otherwise unruffled. She, instead asked for a glass of water. Aside from the sweaty strand of hair clinging to her forehead, I could have never told that she was tired. She asked for a glass of water, which I gladly filled for her.

Suddenly, I started to feel sick and jittery. I could hardly sit still. Steve grabbed my hand and simply said "Stay here." I was taken aback by this gesture, but I stayed with him. "I do not like them. Not at all," he said. Unable to speak, I pulled out my phone and typed:
          You don't need to worry. It's just you, me, and  my sister, Emmeline in here. Typing those words felt strange. Normally, he would have been the one who told me not to worry. He stroked my hair half protectively and half anxiously as if worried that "they" might bring harm to me. Meanwhile, Emmeline rested her feet on what looked like a saxophone case and read her comment sheet; presumably, she came back from solo and ensemble. After pressing into me for a few seconds longer, he recovered. As if the incident had never occurred, he encouraged me to talk to Emmeline.
         "Want some apples? Alex and I have been gathering." I took one. It was glistening red and looked perfect. The flesh was crisp, sweet, and the juice trickled down my chin. Emmeline curled up next to me as if we knew each other all our lives.
         "Are you back from solo and ensemble?" I noted the blue sheet she held in her hand.
         "Yes. I got an Excellent rating. I could have received a Superior if my accompanist wasn't late and dressed in a T shirt and jeans, but I'm happy. I'll have junior and senior year to go to regionals!" At the Minecraft solo and ensemble festival, I adjudicated the clarinets. Some of them were from Mindcrack, so they were pleased to see my face. Wendy, one of younger Mindcrack clarinetists, played primarily in her clarion register, but she played with courage. Tim's altissimo register rang strong and clear as did his clarion register, but his chalumeau register was insipid at best. In contrast, Naia's chalumeau register was sublime while her altissimo notes were squeaky and harsh. I was supposed to judge two others: Kaitlyn, a sixth grader, and Mark, a freshman in high school, but I had a seizure in the middle of Kaitlyn's adjudication. Mark I could judge fine, but I felt Kaitlyn's shock. I know it's something I can't control, but I felt sorry for Kaitlyn having to see me at my worst. I ended up giving Kaitlyn a Superior for playing on (and doing so quite well) despite her fear.

Emmeline told me all about her experiences with solo and ensemble.

 Bryce, Jayden, and Colin sounded like an excellent tenor saxophone section. She told me about the funny comment she received on her sheet which was: "Be SAXY and have some fun with it." I couldn't help but laugh. Steve eventually came out with hot chocolate for both of us. There were drips down the sides, but I didn't care. He left, presumably to slay some creepers. "So, I presume Alex takes vocal lessons from you. Does she have as much energy as I think she does?"
         "Why yes, she does. She has a lovely voice. All I need to do is teach her the techniques and she goes from there." It was true. Alex really does have a talent for finding the pitches once I point her in the right direction. I noticed that Emmeline had several wristbands on, each in a different color. I asked about them.
         "Oh, these? Well, the black glittery one is a way of honoring the black-eyed Endernymphs who were killed as sacrifices. The red ones are from my sports, such as volleyball and track. This orange one was a souvenir from a random event. I got this green one from band and I got this purple one for exceeding my fundraising goal for a concert to benefit the Minecraftian Epilepsy Foundation. Havencraft High School is cool like that with all its fundraisers and things."
         "What was your goal?"
         "It was 25 iron ingots. I ended up getting 5 diamonds, 4 iron ingots, and a platter of cookies from Alex's father and two gold ingots from Alex herself."
         "Where have you been all this time? How come I never knew you?"
         "Well, I was banished because of some random prophecy. You can read it here. I've been compiling them. The bottom is kind of scratched out, but I kind of know what it means. She handed me the scroll, which had seven female figures on it. The one fighting the dragon was definitely Vivienne, Alisha was the one sitting on a throne at a meeting with what looked like her soldiers, the two dancing figures were Marcinia and Lorelai. I couldn't tell which was which, but I could tell that the dancing pair was them. Samantha was some sort of ethereal figure, almost flamelike. Rosalie was tending a field as if she were a villager. I was not in the scroll.
         "Unroll it further," Emmeline coaxed. I did so and, to make sure, I blew on the scroll. Dust floated up everywhere. It stung my eyes and my throat felt like it was closing. I reached for my inhaler and puffed on it once. It didn't work. After four or five times, I still got nothing. I finally got back to normal. On the scroll, I noticed a wraith of a girl sitting in the corner stoically while being tormented. That was probably me. I noticed that Emmeline was the one who was pointing a staff as if either doing magic or pointing her sisters in the way they should go.
         "Well, Alisha did become CEO of the Minecraftian school department." I remembered her standing like a queen when she spoke to Mindcrack's teachers.
         "That doesn't surprise me. Samantha is a terrorist, Lorelai is a hermit, and Marcinia is a professional women's parkour team! Go skellies!" Though Alisha tortured me ruthlessly, it was Samantha who actually tried to kill me. She was the one of us that actually liked the Ender Dragon. Though she was bullied in school, she refused to empathize with me and instead found solidarity with an evil dragon. Now, she was out to get revenge on an unknown target while killing many innocents in the process.

Sportive and competitive, I'm sure Marcinia enjoyed herself doing parkour. It surprised me, though, that Lorelai would be a hermit. She seemed concerned with her social status in the past. Maybe she shut the world out in frustration or maybe she finally found the lifestyle that suited her. "And Rosalie..." Emmeline scrolled on her phone. "Rosalie died protecting a village from Samantha's attacks. It says here that Rosalie Netherfield was a "hero whose bravery could slay a thousand Ender Dragons." Rosalie took over for Vivienne on certain occasions. She did not like to do it, nor did she have to do it, but she did it. I'd say that she was the second kindest to me out of all of them. We talked on and on about our lives, just like sisters.

Because we were

Character(s) Most Likely To (A/N)

I'm bored.

• Take over the world loudly
• Take over the world quietly
• Start a charity
• Yell "Fight me!" at a random person
• Qualify as "cute"
• Submit a story to The Mighty
• Sing on national TV
• Join the UN and be an ambassador to North Korea
• Join the UN and be an ambassador to South Korea
• Host a recital
• Perform in a recital
• Build a robot suit
• Use the robot suit

Memories of the Snow (Steve)

(A/N: Some fun crossover fiction using characters from the mind of Meredith S)

I was seven years old, at home, and bored out of my mind. I started pulling at the tassels of the couch knowing that I would get in trouble for it. Both parents were at work. I watched the snow fall and pile on top of itself. It drifted slowly and seemed to call my name. However, I was not in the mood to play by myself, so I had to wait for my brothers to wake up. I had no friends at this tender young age, at least not any outside the tight-knit circle known as family.

When Cory finally got up, we donned our snow clothes and set out to the snow. He led me outside and started rolling a snowball. I joined him and we even had a snowball fight between the two of us. He shook the branch of a spruce to snow would fall on my head. I did the same to him and we ended up making snow angels, building a few snow golems, and otherwise having a great time. Then, I suggested we play spleef. Cory agreed and we headed to a nearby seasonal spleef ring.

We raced around the ring, each one trying to undermine the other. This continued, each of us grinning and breathing hard. Cory got me several times, but he never bragged. He just kept encouraging me to chase him. Eventually, I caught up with him and ended up digging under him. However, the fun ended there. Cory hit his head falling through the spleef hole I had dug. Distressed, I started yelling his name. He did not respond. He started twitching with greater and greater intensity. He had what I now recognize as a tonic-clonic seizure. That memory has haunted me from childhood.
         "Steve! Steve! Something's wrong." Caitlin roused me from the memory. She looked rather distressed. "I don't know exactly what, though."
         "Go back to sleep. It was a dream." I was not in the mood to listen to her fretting.
         "I know this isn't a dream. It's more like this feeling in the back of my head that something bad is going to happen. I woke up because I sense something. I sense...a general upset in the world."
         "You're fine. I'm fine. You don't need to worry." I put my arm around her and she rested on me. Her body felt warm against mine, an exchange of heat, of energy, of something that cannot be described with words. She shifted and continued the exchange, but something interrupted the pure moment.
         "But they are not."
         "Who is 'they?"
         "I don't know, but something's definitely wrong! Check your phone."
         "Go back to sleep!" Getting woken up over nothing again and again was getting annoying.
         "Tu es bête!" She threw up her hands and pulled the pillow over her head. I have no idea what she just said, but her exasperation said it all.

 Out of curiosity, I got on my phone and what I saw shocked me. Village terrorist attacks ran rampant across Minecraft. TNT craters at least three chunks in diameter lay where the villages once stood. Caitlin was right! Something was definitely wrong. A commenter went on to blame me for the attacks, which is totally absurd because I never fight with TNT. I skimmed the article and came to these conclusions:
1. These terrorist attacks were supposedly led by Samantha Netherfield. Ok. First, Alisha becomes the CEO of Minecraft schools, Caitlin is a music teacher, Samantha is a terrorist, there are eight Netherfields and not seven or six, Emmeline exists, and the others, for all I know, are dead.
2. Her next targets are most likely the village across from our house and the one near Mindcrack.
3. Alex is within the blast radius for both attacks. Even if she stayed at home under her father Jordan's wing, she would at least get seriously injured in the attacks. Adrian is within the blast radius of the second attack, but not the first one. Adrian will be fine if he goes to Mrs. Carraway's, the science teacher's, house. We are not within the radius of either attack.
4. The TNT drills will come in handy.
5. Caitlin is freakishly intuitive.

I showed Caitlin the article. She read it thoroughly and, when she stopped, the color drained from her face. Then, she was livid with anger. I received a reminder that there is more peril in Caitlin's eye than in a thousand Ender Dragons.
         "Samantha, you..." She seethed. After breathing deeply, she apologized and left for her class. I gathered my music, put some toast in my mouth, and followed. "Je deteste les terroristes!"With that, we parted ways.

The Mindcrack high school band broke into sectionals, but Andreas stayed behind.
         "Why aren't you joining the others?"  Andreas looked up at me half balefully and half pleadingly. I could see the tears in his eyes.
         "They don't want me in there."
         "Well, go in whether like it or not." Andreas sniffed and skulked into the large practice room with his flute. "Whether they like it or not." I managed to keep my breakfast in my stomach. While my musicians were in sectionals, I noticed that something was burning. I ran for the fire extinguisher and, after fumbling around with it for a while, I put it out. The entire section blamed Andreas, who I confronted about the incident. I searched his backpack for fire charges, flint and steel, and
gunpowder. I found none. "How did you..?"
         "I can't help it! If you ever were the bad kid even though you didn't want to be, you'd understand!" Andreas's hands flared. His eyes glowed brighter and filled with tears. He cried bitterly, hiding his face. I felt a pang of empathy for Andreas. I did understand. However, I did not want to have him burn down the school, so I busied the band with our song. We rehearsed Mambo, our only tune. However, it was a good one. The saxophones and clarinets managed the fast runs quite well. The flutes were glad to hand that part over to another section. When rehearsal ended, Andreas sank to the ground and cried. He told me through tearful eyes that the flames came from within and could not be controlled.
          "I understand how you feel. I really do." Andreas continued to tell his story. We compared stories. I felt a warmth as Andreas drew closer to me and even cried on my shoulder. I e-mailed his advisor that he was with me. I felt his athletic body sink into mine the way I cried into my brother's shoulder whenever I was sick and tired of being bad. I vividly remembered Cory recovering from his head injury in the hospital and he turned to me saying "It's not your fault". But it was. If we had never played spleef that fateful day, I would have spared him most of the trouble he went through.

Andreas got up to leave. I was glad that I was able to do that one thing for him, even if it had nothing to do with the music. The rest of the day whizzed by in a blur.  After the school day, I received a text from Anna, someone I had met whilst venturing in some obscure region of the world. I wasn't sure of her race, but I know it wasn't human.
         A: Are you coming to Lakeview Manor for our double date? This is Anna.
         S: Hi, Anna. Yes. Lakeview Manor was pretty much safe from the terrorist attacks.
         C: Steve! Are you kidding me? We need to stay inside because of the terrorist attacks!
         S: Relax, Caitlin. We'll be well outside the attacks. 
         A: What terrorist attacks?
         S: One of Caitlin's sisters has been bombing villages. We don't know why. 
         A: Is it Emmeline? 
         S: No. It can't be. 
Caitlin met me outside the office as always. However, this time, she looked even more beautiful than she usually does. The dress she wore fell about her legs just the right way and the lapis lazuli blue fabric sparkled in the sun like diamond ore. I must have been enraptured in her beauty because, when she asked me if I liked it, I couldn't say anything.
         "Well, I thought I'd try to look nice for the date." She leaned uncertainly on her cane, which she wore a purple pendant to match. Her hair was pulled back into a flawless French braid that even the most fashionable students Mindcrack could only hope to emulate.
         "Nice? You look...amazing!" Amazing did not do her appearance justice, but that was all I could muster.

On the way to Lakeview Manor, I noticed that Caitlin started wheezing. She paused, coughed, used her inhaler, and continued on like any good warrior would do. She counted as she walked, the lento to my allegretto. I offered to carry her horn along with both my trumpets because the Impulsive Brass Band has a tradition called Solo and Ensemble Week. During Solo and Ensemble Week, we break into groups, prepare a piece, and perform it. Caitlin and I would perform Everything's Alright as a duet.

When we got there, we met Anna and someone else I did not know the name of. He paced up and down the room and watched Anna as if she were TNT waiting to explode. Out of impatience, I dragged Caitlin to my side and introduced ourselves to the man. He looked at us with eyes the color of polished iron.
         "Oh, hello." He prompted Anna to look. "Can you introduce yourself?"
         "I'm Steve." I gestured towards Caitlin. "And this is Caitlin." We shook hands.
         "I am Farkas, which means 'wolf', which is funny because I am a lycanthrope. Luckily, the moon is a waning crescent, so we have nothing to worry about. Have a seat." Farkas gestured to a couch. Caitlin took her place next to Anna.
         "Parlez-vous français?" Caitlin nervously asked Anna.
         "Oui." Anna replied somewhat uneasily. "Est-ce que tu aimes jouer un instrument?"
         "Oui! J'aime jouer de la clarinette. Et toi?"
         "J'aime jouer des percussions." They continued talking in French, so I turned to Farkas.

         "So, what is that notebook for, exactly?" I noticed that he held one.
         "Um...It's personal." Farkas concealed the notebook. "Do you normally ask people awkward questions?"
         "Yes, I do!" I laughed, hoping to dissolve the tension. Instead, he seemed more guarded. He turned away and continued to monitor Anna, who played with her blond hair. Farkas regarded Anna affectionately. Caitlin stayed by my side and, because I was bored, I pulled out my trumpet. She pulled out her horn. Farkas and Anna looked at us attentively.

We played together from memory, the low notes from Caitlin's French horn supporting my high notes. The melody soared through the air, the notes flowing from our horns into the air and back to our souls. A sublime bliss washed over me as I let the dust of everyday life, the trauma of my past and the hardships of the present, wash off of my soul. As we cut off, we looked at each other with that knowing expression that only comes four or five times in a lifetime.

Anna and Farkas applauded quietly, but sincerely. We dismantled our instruments and put them in our cases. Caitlin excused herself to go to the bathroom, but when she stood up, a puddle formed at her feet. Tears formed in her eyes and fell one after another. She shut herself in the bathroom after that. Now, I was without a date and alone with two people I barely knew.

Anna left the house and Farkas went after her, so that left me to clean up the puddle. I found the cleaning spray underneath their sink. Once it was gone, I wandered around the house and found that one of the doors was locked. The light was on and, when I held my ear to the door, I heard hints of crying. I knocked.
         "They don't like me." It was Caitlin.
         "Why would you think that? I thought they liked you very much."
         "Not after..." She started crying again. "They left."
         "I'm sure it's nothing personal! Maybe they're just getting dinner." I tried to extrapolate towards positives.
         "No." I continued to talk, but with every word, Caitlin retreated further into herself. "Do you want me to come in?" She opened the door slowly. Her dress was still visibly wet and her eyes were red from crying. Still, I thought she was beautiful.
         "I don't want to come out. Not yet."
         "Me neither. I'll get you cleaned up." Caitlin disrobed as I helped her dry off and slip into the change of clothes she prepared: a similar dress with diamond blue fabric instead of lapis blue. This one glistened under the lights like a polished, sharpened diamond sword. She changed her shoes to her concert shoes, which suited her better. She kept the purple jewelry. To be honest, I liked this new look better. She smiled, took my hand, and got steadily to her feet. After embracing me, she got back out with newfound confidence.

Anna and Farkas got back to us with pizza. Anna seemed more tired, but otherwise in good spirits.
         "They only had cheese." Farkas explained. However, I was so hungry I didn't care. I sank my teeth into the hot, melty cheese, the tangy sauce, and the buttery crust. I only had one other pizza that came close to this one and that was with the Mindcrack high school band. A Witch Express had promised us free food and, since we did not get food, I ordered several pizzas and tried to convince the delivery guy it was not a prank. I eventually convinced him with "Do you want to be eaten alive by fifty hungry high school students?". It was one of the "lines" I used to get food for my band...and myself. Somehow, Caitlin noticed that I was eating a little too sloppily for her tastes. She was halfway through her slice when I had already eaten two.
          "Do you really need to eat like a starving wolf?"
          "I am a starving wolf." Everyone cracked up, especially Farkas. We continued eating and talking into the night. I found something small and hard in my pocket and suddenly remembered what I had to do. Caitlin talked openly with Anna and Farkas changing in between French and English to suit their needs. She laughed this pure laugh and had this glint of enthusiasm in her eyes that I know all too well. My heart pounded in cut time. I looked around nervously. Should I do this? Should I not? As if sensing my internal panic, Caitlin put her arm around me and said this, which got me on my feet.
           "I love you, Steve. Don't ever forget that."

Seconds later, I eased down onto the ground. I put one knee forward and one knee back the same way I had always done during spleef injuries. A million images raced through my head. From Caitlin and I holding hands together in the moonlight in our old age and me holding a baby with her smiling wearily at me to me spamming the red button in the neurology unit and irrationally pleading with Dr. Chen to make the seizures stop, my head spun. I saw Alex belting out Everything's Alright, Emmeline meeting her sister, and her students listening in the classroom. I saw Adrian completing a race, my students playing in a concert, and Andreas's white eyes. I finally stopped here in a daze.
          "Caitlin, will you marry me?" The phrase slid off my tongue easily. She looked me in the eye, which she does not usually do, and ran to embrace me.
          "Of course I will, my dragon slayer." After that, we continued on our adventures...and this time we did it together. Caitlin answered her phone.
          "Alex says 'I let myself in. Now what?"
          "Tell her you're coming.
          "I will." Caitlin, as a teacher, formed connections with her students I could only dream of. As much as my students claim to like me, I don't think any of them would have sheltered with me. We continued on the path to Alex, who would be an integral part of our journey.

A Change For the Better (Caitlin)

The same routine I followed day in and day out with my class: Start with a recap of the last lesson, build the skill du jour, listen to music, describe said music, and end with time to work or play games. Today, I would get a new class. It's hard to believe how fast time flies and the changes my teaching makes. Caleb went from dreading this class to the point of feeling sick at the beginning to having a solid A in the class and loving it. Yuki's teachers reported that she seemed happier and more motivated after my music class. Other students showered me with gifts that spoke volumes without any words. After getting out of the hospital, Adrian gave me the arrows he made in Basic Survival. I had no idea why, but he held a special place in my heart. Katelyn arranged Everything's Alright for note block choir and is performing it in the sixth grade note block ensemble. I would know the names of my new class today.

Today, I noticed a letter from the Minecraftian School Administration sat on my desk. I was worried as I tore it open. Had I been fired for not teaching enough courses? Were there new standards to be met? I unfolded the letter and read:

To Whom it May Concern:

Mindcrack High School and Middle School is becoming a part of the Initiate Training and Education Program (ITEP). This means that there are modifications to be made in your curriculum in order to accommodate initiates and non-initiates alike as students. We need your full support of the Initiate Program as it is part of the Minecraftian way of life.  It is a tradition that started as military training for the First Minecraftian War, so, by doing this, we preserve history.

The Initiate Program is an opportunity for Minecraftian youth to survive in the wilderness as quasi-immortal beings with enhanced strength and cognition. Most initiates are in between the ages of 12 and 19, but initiates as young as 10 have been selected via the lottery process. 

I have always been concerned about the Initiate Program. What are they getting initiated for that would require them, at such a tender age, to survive on basically nothing? I have studied the Eight Minecraftian Wars and how the Minecraftian military used something similar to the Initiate Program to enhance their armies, but no such thing is needed today. My heart breaks for the children who have to give up their names, their identities, and the comfort of a family all in the name of tradition. Some of my students: Emma, Brady, and Luke have left to be initiates and never returned. I wonder how they are in the harsh elements beating against their fair little faces.

Most initiates are uneducated due to the lack of available education and those who are enrolled in Minecraftian schools have experienced their grades dropping by as much as 30% due to the lack of accommodations available to them. By joining the Initiate Training and Education Program, your school will become an Initiate Training Academy. Please go to these coordinates (35, 234, 145.53) to  review the policies and standards of ITAs.

We wish your luck with your transition, so drop a note in our chest if you have any questions, concerns, or comments. Please alert your students of the transition and assist them with the transition. Keep in mind that this is as difficult for them as it is for you. Mindcrack courses that need modification are:

• AP Brewing
• Honors Weapon Modding
• Chemistry I
• Chemistry II
• AP Physics, Year 1 and 2
• AP Biology
• Advanced English 7th Grade
• Advanced English 8th Grade
• General Minecraft Skills
• General Music
• 6th Grade Redstone
• 8th Grade Physical Science 
• 7th Grade Geology and Mining 

 Thank you for understanding. For more information, contact the Minecraft Education Department. There will be a meeting today at 06500.

Yours Truly,
Alisha H. Netherfield
CEO of the Minecraft Education Department 

My head started buzzing with questions. How did Alisha get to be head of the Minecraftian Education Department? Was it really her that spearheaded the equal opportunity reform? This Alisha was not the one I knew years ago. I wonder what caused her change of heart. I never knew for sure, but something told me it had something to do with the slaying of the Ender Dragon. When Steve made that final hit with his sword, he made history. He started a new era. He made things better for all of us, not just me. Alisha often muttered things about the bad education system and, now that she has risen to the top, she is making it better. 

The time for the meeting came rather quickly. All Mindcrack teachers assembled in the theater while the students relaxed at home, practiced combat, or studied for tests. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. All this change at once sent me off balance. A few of the middle school teachers glanced concernedly at me. The teachers and a few of the more savvy students shared a joke that I should be a science teacher because it is pretty much expected of Mindcrack teachers to be idiosyncratic in some way, but science teachers even more so. I have taught entire classes without oral speech and my students did not question me once for it. They started writing down their questions and answers on paper themselves. Perhaps a book they read whilst in literature class enlightened them on a part of me even I struggled to crack for years.

Alisha, with her striking gold eyes, spoke with alacrity. She talked about modifying the curriculum and policies to fit the needs of initiates. Unfortunately, Mindcrack was never flexible with absences and for a good reason too. Why would I want a student who had an erratic absence pattern and who was too busy surviving to get their work done? I raised this issue. The high school teachers nodded in assent.
         "It would mean that I have to change the nature of my AP Chemistry course," complained Daisy Carraway, the chemistry teacher at Mindcrack. Unlike the adaptable, dynamic Tom Watts, the biology teacher, she readily protested anything that meant altering the curriculum and upsetting previous policies.
         "If you're smart enough to teach an AP course, you should have the intelligence to make slight changes for the benefit of our initiates while maintaining the nature of the course." She went on to general music modifications. According to her, I would have to completely derail my teaching methods! Doing away with the worksheets, teaching on the fly, and teaching different things to different classes all in one day sent me spinning. "Miss Netherfield, what do you have to say about my proposal?" I tried to speak, but my words would not come! It was just my luck that I forgot my notepad too. Tears filled my eyes as I began to panic. My fellow teachers had mixed reactions. Some laughed. Some looked concerned.
         "Come on, who gave her a teaching license?" A combat teacher cut into my soul. "I wonder how students listen to a teacher who can't talk!" They did listen to me when I couldn't talk. They even stopped speaking themselves.
         "Who gave you yours?" Steve rose and began challenging the combat teacher. "You shouldn't teach if you're...you're.." He couldn't seem to find the words. The shame was now directed at him. He stammered and seethed with visible frustration. His pain became mine. A new energy surged through me.
         "Teaching is about making a difference in the lives of students and delivering to them useful skills for their benefit. I know many students in the Mindcrack Band Program who don't mind if their teacher misses a word or two and who play their instruments quite well. I have even been told about a student whose life was saved because they chose their instrument over their sword. We should-"
         "All right, Soapbox Sadie. Now, let's see how we're going to modify the sixth grade courses." Alisha went on. She suggested less presentations and more leniency on late assignments. She was going to turn my teaching methods on their head. As much as that upset me, I was also glad of that she was as passionate about education as I was. "Now, let's talk about dress code leniency and absences."
         "But deviating from the dress code is a sign of disrespect!" I hurriedly tried to maintain the routine and policies. I remembered that shortly after Emma became an initiate, I sent her to the office because her fingertips barely hung over the edge of her skirt. She started protesting and telling me that it was all the fabric she had. Alisha addressed my concerns.
         "And so does over-enforcement. A 12 year old Mindcrack student by the name of Emma Turner told me that her teacher treated her unfairly by telling her that her skirt was too short because it was one pixel shorter than her fingertips. As important as modesty is, fear of violating the dress code is a reason why many initiates choose to discontinue their schooling. You said school was about making a difference in the lives of students.  If clothing prevents you from doing that, I feel sorry for your students already." My students would have readily disagreed. All of them comply with my policies and would say that they have more fun while doing it.
          "And why would I want initiate students? Frequent unexcused absences, disregard for the dress code, and incomplete work are all signs of a bad student. Why would we want bad students?"
          "You have a very narrow definition of a good student, then. Meeting adjourned!" Alisha packed up her things and a new feeling sank into me. Perhaps it wasn't initiate-hood that made Emma quit school. Perhaps it was the policies. One thing I know for certain is: It was me.

Sing Your Heart Out (Alex)

After eating a breakfast of bread and apple butter, I put on my pink coat on and tied the blue laces on my lucky sneakers because the choir concert was tomorrow. My father, Jordan, straightened my hat, gave me a hug in his strong arms, straightened my ponytail, and said "Au revoir, Alex" before sending me on my way. He had kind blue eyes and I hoped more and more each to day to be like him, but he would always say "You can do better than me, Alex."

I needed Miss Caitlin's help in order to make sure I wouldn't mess up my solo in "For Who I Am." I loved to sing solos, but I hated messing them up. If I messed up, I would be laughed at for days. If I got it, I would be loved and the choir teacher would give me a cookie. Speaking of sweets, I had one particular favorite and it only came this time of year.

A faint scent of chocolate crossed my path, a scent that I recognized. The hot chocolate from the local village was not like the kind in Minecraftian stores. It was creamy, warm, and actually tasted like chocolate instead of like brown powder with hot water mixed in. Jim, the vendor, knew I would want some. He told me "Hello, Alex" as I offered him a golden nugget. Everyone in the village knew my name whether they hated or liked me. Most of the villagers liked me, though. They said I was a breath of fresh air. I wished I could get a cup for Adrian, but the hospital doesn't allow outside food or drinks. They won't let me visit, so I just go to his sister, Emilia, to send my messages. She told me what he wanted to say, but I still missed him terribly. I wanted him next to me, not in the hospital.

Singing was the perfect...what's that word? Diversion. Singing was the perfect diversion for my worries. Miss Caitlin always says "Sing your heart out, Alex," but I can't always understand what that means. My heart was not in singing mode right now. I sipped my hot chocolate, which would warm my vocal cords for the solo. The cold air made my face tingle like there were millions of tiny swords pricking the skin on my cheeks while the hot chocolate warmed me from the inside as if I were a furnace. I loved this feeling, perhaps more than singing, but not as much as learning how to do it from the best vocal teacher in Minecraft.

Miss Caitlin is the the most perfect person in Minecraft. She knows both French and English so that she can talk to my father easily, is smarter than all of my school teachers, and can sing so that her voice can break diamonds. Some people pity Miss Caitlin in weird ways like saying "I would die if I had to live like that" because she sometimes walks with a cane, has seizures, and has asthma. They say I'm brave for taking lessons from her, but she is the brave one. Anyone can kill an Ender Dragon, but it takes a special kind of person to live with one. It doesn't really matter to me, though, because she can sing beautifully. Some vocal teachers can't sing, which makes me wonder why they teach people how to do it. Many people tell me that I should go back to the studio because they think she cannot teach me. However, she makes learning how to sing fun and that is better than singing scales while trying to stay "still as a fencepost" as they say. As my father says, "Elle est une prof de chant excellent." or "She is an excellent singing teacher."

Speaking of ma prof de chant, she waited for me outside with a cup of her own hot chocolate and her hair neatly confined in a blue scarf. I ran up the almost-finished nether brick path to her, careful not to fall and scrape my knee, and she let me in. I let the hot air rush in and felt the feeling rush back into my fingertips. I opened my mouth to sing or talk, but Miss Caitlin stopped me.
          "Save your voice for that solo of yours. Here is some paper, a feather, and a sac of squid ink. Find me and write something down if you need something." She left without another word and I. was. alone. I hated being alone, so I stretched out and ended up having a battle of wills with myself.

You will talk.
No! Miss Caitlin said "Save your voice."
But TALK! You know you love talking.
I like singing better!
So SING!
I will save my voice! My solo will sound better.
Fine.

The torches flickered. A creeper crept by, looked into the window, then passed. I thought of a thousand things to write down, but only thought of one: Why do I have to do this? After Miss Caitlin got back to me, she looked at me and said this:
          "Alex, vocal rest is hard, especially for someone like you. Sometimes, part of learning how to use your voice is learning how to go without it." I supposed she was right. She was always right, even when I didn't like it. "Deliver this to your father after our time is up and keep the paper. You'll need it." I read the note, which said: Alex is on vocal rest. She will communicate by writing because she needs to save her voice for her solo. 
          But what about choir rehearsal? I wrote.
          Ms. Hartnick already knows. She is in full agreement with my plan. Miss Caitlin wrote a note and showed it to me. I have an idea. I nearly spoke, but I managed to keep my mouth shut. My vocal teacher handed me the sheet music and wrote Play the piano. I will back you up. We took our seats on the piano bench and began to play.
         
I plucked the keys with relative ease because I taught myself how to play the piano when I was bored. I wasn't any good yet, but I could manage to play out my solo. I needed two hands to do it because I have small hands. The notes fell into place, all of my hard work coming together. Despite a few mistakes, I played anyway because the audience arrives for a concert, not a rehearsal. When we reached the end of the song, my music teacher wrote this note: Trés bien! À bientôt, Alex. :D With that, I set out to go home--and hand out flyers for the Creative Fun bake sale.

The Creative Fun bake sale benefits the Creative Fun music program, which is general music and choir. I have a great deal of fun helping my father make his famous pain au chocolat, a delicious buttery bread filled with chocolate. The chocolate bread always sell out first and people think he got them from the village bakery, but he's just that good at baking. Speaking of baking, I bought an apple tart on the way back. The rich, flaky crust gave way to a hot, sweet apple filling with a sublime flavor only villagers can manage to produce.

 When I got home, I saw that my father was repairing a sword. He works as a weapon and tool repairman. Anything he has parts for he can make. I gave him the note and he nodded towards me, which was a good sign. Normally, he didn't do anything. I went up to my room and started practicing combat techniques with my sword. In between bites of apple tart, I used the practice techniques my music teacher taught me: Warm up, polish the basics and challenge yourself with something new. However, she forgot the last step: Have fun while you're at it.

(A/N: Alex's perspective is refreshing, isn't it? I thought this blog really needed a lighter shift of tone, so here you go.)

No, I'm Fine (Steve)

          "No, I'm fine." Caitlin gave her default response after having had multiple seizures the night before. I sensed the fatigue in her voice as she gathered her teaching materials together. She hid her leg braces underneath a long, loose skirt, took up her bag full of rescue medications, and proceeded to go about her day as normal. A mysterious, constant state of sadness seemed to surround her no matter what her mood was at the time; her void black eyes spoke the volumes of emotions buried within her like diamonds in a mineshaft. "Are you?"

          "Not good. I didn't get much sleep." The rest of my words stayed within my head and clumped like a stale mundane potion. As if reading my mind, Caitlin wrapped her little arms around me and tightened her grip with a motion that I mistook for a flinch, but her intentions were clear.

          "I hope your state improves. Good luck with the bands. My class will visit in a week to learn about the instruments, so make sure they practice." With that, she left for Mindcrack.  I drank a second cup of coffee to make sure I had the energy to lead Mindcrack's band and guitars, then I made my way to the shower. The hot water ran over my head and body and washed away the grit from the day before and allowed me to start fresh. My mood quickly faded when I saw a residual trickle of blood that resulted from Caitlin hitting her face when she started convulsing in the shower just last night. I had to use the rescue medication she kept on her nightstand and monitor her breathing. Thankfully, she came to in a more or less okay state and woke up the next day in good spirits, but I still was rattled from the incident.

The Mindcrack beginning guitar players awaited my instruction. After warming up their fingers, I taught them how to play five basic chords: A, D, E, G, and C. Emilia Roth managed to produce a dissonant clashing of strings; Trevin Albright strummed with a naturalness and ease that even I could not match. The others fell somewhere along that spectrum; I strode towards Emilia, a girl of about twelve or thirteen wearing a Mindcrack cheerleading T-shirt and disheveled blond hair. Her guitar playing sounded nothing like a guitar, just a dissonant clashing of strings
          "What was that supposed to be, Emilia? I thought you were playing guitar, not torturing creepers."
          "Sorry, Mr. Lowell. I'm tired because my mom dragged me to the hospital to see Riley and Adrian. Riley's in the hospital nearly half the time, which is normal for her, but seeing Adrian that sick was new to me." The latter name piqued my interest. Caitlin took a particular interest in Adrian, though I was never sure why. He seemed a nice, quiet kid, but unremarkable. What Caitlin saw in him I never did. Emilia looked at me intently and went on. "Adrian was miserable. He didn't say anything or even seem to know me. The nurses hurried around him like bats. They asked if he ever needed anything and he said 'No, I'm fine' every single time, even though he wasn't. I just wanted him to ask for something to make himself feel better."
          "That must be hard." I strummed my guitar. I had more to say, but I could never say it. "Play that." Obligingly, Emilia somehow played the bright chord with a plaintive air as if crying through her instrument for her brother. The phrase "No, I'm fine" took me back to this morning and several incidents throughout my life with Caitlin. If she could say nothing else at the moment, she'd say "No, I'm fine" and ask me to leave.
          "Now, play the A chord." She faltered again and again, then set her guitar down and threw up her hands.
          "I can't do this! It's too hard."
          "You can. Try it again and again until it happens." The girl tried and tried again; she still produced the same sound. I left her to master the chord. When I went on my computer, I found these messages:

ar5679@mindcrack.net: Bonjour. Je m'appelle Adrien. Je suis onze ans. Ça va mal. 
ar5679@mindcrack.net: I meant that for my language teacher! Sorry. 

I disregarded the messages. Adrian was not one of my students. I turned my attention to the class and led them in a song. It sounded more or less good, so we advanced into the guitar method. Within minutes, the class complained that their fingers hurt; I told them to shut up and get on with it. They sighed and obliged, playing halfheartedly. When the period ended, they placed their guitars on the racks and headed out. My phone rang with this text:

Caitlin: Make sure you remember to take care of yourself and your students, mon petit copain.

Reluctantly, I let my eyes fill with tears, which receded as quickly as they came. I noted the way Caitlin dragged her feet as though her body weighed as much as a stack of iron blocks, the feeling of her small, delicate hand gripping mine as she steadied herself to ascend stairs without handrails, how she quickly rummaged for her inhaler when she needed it, but, most of all, how she would drop these needs for anyone and would not allow anyone else to take them up, not even me.

As the day progressed, my stomach churned. I drowned my reading sickness bag in lava and packed up to go to brass band rehearsal. Caitlin waited for me outside the school and leaned on her cane with a straighter, taller posture usually reserved for performance. She tied her hair back and beamed at me. Enthusiasm painted her pale face; her eyes danced and seemed to reflect light for the first time. I hurried over to meet the new woman, but my foot had other plans in mind.

I felt my ankle contort and twist beneath the force of my stride. The injured ankle hurt me, but seeing that pain reflected in Caitlin's face pierced my heart like a sword. She went over to me and paused, unsure what to do. Several times she breathed in to say something and then gave up. Unable to say anything myself, I screamed a slew of incoherent insults.

Caitlin's eyes filled with tears. She hid her face and retreated into the building. Several students from the track team flocked to comfort her, but she never seemed to notice them. I wanted them to dry as quickly as they came, but she went without a word.

I lay there to fester in my pain. I hate being unable to run and fight almost as much as I hate seeing anyone I love hurt. As if on cue, Caitlin strolled out with ice and bandages. She deftly wrapped the bandage around my foot and placed ice on it.

          "I'd let you rest, but we have to get to rehearsal," she said.
          "Well, thank you for twisting the sword in my heart." I complained. "I can't walk with this foot." Without a word, Caitlin extended her cane and handed it to me. I started to protest, but she stopped me.
          "I've done without a cane before and I'll do it again if it means sparing you any pain." With that, we set off for rehearsal.

When we finally got there, we parted to go to our sections. I warmed up my trumpet and carefully moved around the stand so I would not knock it over and make a scene. I took out my music and led the other trumpeters in a B flat scale and noticed that one of them, a certain man I recognized from the Minecraft Symphony Orchestra, breathed every two measures.
          "You shouldn't breathe so much, Kent. And dude, you look horrible!" I noted the green tint on his face.
          "I know. May I sit down?" He still panted after playing the simple scale.
          "No. You can stop playing, though." Grudgingly, Kent obliged. I heard the French horns and flugelhorns through the wall playing mellow long tones. Suddenly, the lowest tone disappeared from the sound and a thud followed. My heart raced.

          "It's that simple! Just stand." Landon, the principal hornist, went on about the importance of professional appearance. Caitlin flushed with indignation as she tried to get to her feet, but fell down again. As usual, she said nothing while her face spoke volumes. The others looked at each other uncertainly, but did not help Caitlin or call Landon out. He said, so to that she could hear "I thought spazzes weren't allowed." At Landon's comment,my blood boiled so hotly I had to grip the door frame to prevent myself from charging and attacking him. Out of nowhere, Caitlin's eyes glimmered like torches. 
          "First of all, I have ataxic cerebral palsy, not spastic. Secondly, I don't know why you treat me like this or what you have against me. I've put up with your cutting remarks for too long and I won't do it any longer." She propped herself on the chair Albert retrieved and scrambled into it with the ardor of a sniper climbing into a tree. As much as I admired her strength, I hated to see her have to be that strong. Before Landon could say anything more, we congregated as an ensemble.

Halfway through "Anyway you want it", I heard a flugelhorn frack. Mark cringed and massaged his hand, which bent itself into some painful positions. I asked if he needed anything. He muttered "No, I'm fine," and sank into his seat sheepishly. I was so frustrated I punched a hole in the wall, much to the conductor's alarm.
          "Mr. Lowell, control yourself!" How could I? I didn't even think to raise my fist! "Leave if you must." I stormed out of the room enraged. Behind me, I heard a light, halting tread.
          "Are you okay?" Caitlin looked up at me with concerned eyes. "Do you need anything? I can't walk too far because my asthma is bad this time of year, but I can still help." Why, Caitlin? Why do are you always so self-sacrificing when there is so little of you to sacrifice?
          "No. I'm fine." I sank to the ground in defeat and fumed.
          "I can tell you aren't, but, if you insist, I won't do anything. I'll be with Alex if you change your mind." Caitlin left for her vocal student after she puffed on her inhaler. "Hang in there, Steve. I know it's hard, but you're strong." Strong? How could I be? How could she see strength when I was at my lowest? I groaned when a call interrupted me.
          "Hello." It was Alex.
          "Hi. Is this Steven Lowell." Ugh! I switched "this" and "is". I thought I outgrew that when I was ten. Alex giggled.
          "Oh, hi! I'm on my way to see Miss Caitlin, only the best, nicest, most perfect person in Minecraft! I miss having Adrian going with me since he is in middle school, but the local villagers help me on my way, so I'm surviving."
          "She is already on her way." I intended to hang up, but an impulsive word slipped past my lips.  "Aren't you a little young to walk by yourself all that way?"
          "Everyone asks that! I suppose I am, but I have a sword and I'm on good terms with the local villages, so I can manage." Poor Alex. She's so young and is so independent, like I was. Since me and my three brothers were in a room together, I sometimes left and camped outside the house because I couldn't stand Trevor and Dylan fighting. Cory would sometimes intervene if he wasn't already asleep. He could sleep through a creeper storm. He would say something like "Guys, stop. You're upsetting Steven" and then help me go to sleep. They would stop, apologize to me, and go at it again in the morning. Alex hung up impatiently after getting in a witty last word while demanding that I say something.

I made my way to the house along the path. My ankle shot pain everywhere as if to remind me not to walk on it. Suddenly, I felt an arrow penetrate my back and the clanking of bones. I heard three skeletons. They all closed in and one arrow whizzed at my head and would have hit me squarely in the head and another in the heart if not for the two archers above me. Their arrows pierced the skeletons' with a precision only few have achieved. Two crutches hit the ground. I picked them up and fumbled around with them afraid that I would injure myself further. After crushing my bad foot, I winced in pain. No one responded. I stubbornly tried to figure out the crutches when I just ended up tripping over them and stumbling around like a sixth grader trying to play the flute.

The archers descended. The older of the two, Mindcrack senior Brendan Albright, helped me to my feet and taught me how to walk with the crutches: with my good foot on the downbeat and the crutches on the upbeat. The younger, after descending, gave me an ice pack. If they had not noticed, I would have been in pain a good while longer. Then, I saw the younger pull off her mask to reveal another familiar face.
          "Emilia? What are you doing here?"
          "I thought I'd have a test run with a new archery technique. Miss Netherfield sometimes uses this technique and seems to have a great deal of success with it, so I thought I'd try. The nurse finally got Adrian to eat something. He's doing so much better. I think Alex would like to hear that."
          "I think she would. By the way, I finally figured out how to play a G chord that sounds like a chord." With that, we parted ways. Emilia was known widely for stubbornly plowing through obstacles in order to get what she wanted, like me. 

I came home to find Alex running up to me with her bright, sunny face. To my surprise, she held a note that said Vocal Rest. Can't speak. So excited to perform my solo. Can't wait. written in pink glitter gel pen on lime green paper so bright it seemed to glow. To my surprise, it did not bother me as much as black writing on white paper. Alex asked me why I was on crutches by writing on the notepad.
          "I got hurt during combat," I lied. Luckily, Alex seemed to buy it. She went on her way, but only after she gave me a flyer for the Creative Fun choir bake sale: All proceeds benefit the Creative Fun music program, it said. I pocketed it and strolled straight home. I never planned on going to the bake sale before, but, when Alex asks for something, resistance is futile. She can charm the most coldhearted creeper into not exploding. I saw Caitlin on the path and she waved to me. She did not have her cane with her, most likely because she does not use it around the house.

Caitlin got back to me and told me dinner was ready. She put one arm around my shoulder and another on my waist, and, as she leaned in, her phone sang something in French. She pulled away and answered. Jilted, I I could vaguely decipher the words on the other end.
          "Bonsoir, Monsieur. Ça va?"
          "Ça va, Mademosielle. Où est Alex?"  They went on talking in English and in French. When Caitlin hung up, she repeated her gesture, and I readily took her up in my arms. She buried her face into my shirt and stayed there. To my surprise, she started to cry.
          "I'm so sorry for what you had to put up with last night. I can't help it and I have never been able to. I know it taxes you so much and you'd probably want me to go off in the woods to die because I've been a burden." The last words shocked me. All those years of putting up with the Ender Dragon for a master and she thinks I want her to die? That was absurd. She looked up at me tearfully, half-hiding her face as if ashamed to be noticed.
          "Caitlin! No! I wouldn't want you to die. It hurts me when you think that." Hurt wasn't the right word to describe the anguish and agony I felt whenever pain afflicted Caitlin. It felt like a thousand swords entering my heart at once and having each of them slowly twist. She led the way into the house, but lost her balance and tripped on the threshold. After slipping several more times in her futile attempts to right herself, I attempted to do it out of sheer impatience. Instead, she fell forwards and cried more, insisting that I leave. I offered to assist once more. "I'm sorry about that. Do you want me to help you?"
          "No, I'm fine." She eventually found a handhold and, using the climbing techniques she knew so well, eventually got to her feet. "Dinner is ready," she said. On busy days, she will heat the furnace so it is barely warm and roast some meat and carrots. She retrieved a loaf of bread from the chest and sat down offering me the bread. With that, we sat down to dinner. Realizing how hungry I was, I wolfed down two steaks, a loaf of bread, four carrots, and guzzled a bucket of milk. I noticed nothing else, just my ravenous appetite. When I was done, I noticed that Caitlin chewed tentatively and swallowed small amounts at a time instead of swallowing one mouthful at once. Seeing as how this peeved me, I asked her to swallow everything at once. After shaking her head, she returned to nibbling a carrot slice. When she finally finished, she rose and started E-mailing her students. She sang under her breath while typing away.

It was clear that she wanted to be left alone, so, taking up my sword and my pickaxe, I headed to the mineshaft. It was a siren's call I could not resist. I breathed in the cool, humid air at the entrance and descended into the depths of the cave. When I mined, I did not think, I just did. I struck the stone in the hopes of finding diamonds. I had no such luck, though I did find coal. Deeper and deeper my pickaxe took me. I heard the moan of a zombie, the twang of a skeleton's bowstring, and breathed in the cold, humid air. My skin prickled with delight. A drop of water hit my head as I looked into the expanse before me. Like my younger self, I impetuously sprinted a random direction, not caring whether I would return or not, and I mined away.

My pickaxe struck the stone with a satisfying clack. I cleared a path for myself looking for the light blue treasure much coveted everywhere in Minecraft: diamonds. However, I did not just want any diamond. I wanted the perfect diamond, one worthy of resting on Caitlin's finger. She needed this, but not as much as I did. My foot screamed in agony, so I just found cold water to quell its cries in. I heard a hiss behind me and, luckily, my sword hit the creeper. Thinking I would need the gunpowder for later, I stored it in my inventory. Suddenly, Everything's Alright started running through my head. "Short steps, deep breath. Everything is alright."

It led me further and further in. My intuition guided me. I just plowed through stone after stone. Without any conscious thought, I moved as fluidly as water. Each limb bent to my will as easily as my enchanted diamond sword cut through my enemies. Everything around seemed to blur, leaving me with my thoughts, until I bumped into what I thought were two zombies. Instinctively, I held my sword and held it towards the figure. The larger of the two shrunk away and yelped, so I lowered my sword. The figures slowly crept into the light. One was Alex, a girl with a red ponytail and lively green eyes that darted around looking for opportunities to strike. Knowing she was on vocal rest, I did not engage her. The other, who had black hair and pale skin, I did not recognize. Her eyes had a kind of rainbow effect. Ender particles floated around her. Alex prodded her and the other girl introduced herself.
          "I'm Emmeline Netherfield, the sixth of the Netherfield sisters. After the Ender Dragon was slain, my kind was displaced. Do you know the slayer of the Ender Dragon?" That was wrong. She was the eighth. Vivienne died fighting the dragon and Caitlin was with me.
          "I am the slayer and...what do you mean by displaced? And..." I had a million things to say. Just who are you? Why are there Ender particles floating around you? How did "displacement" work? Why are you with Alex?
          "And what?" Emmeline grew impatient. She twirled an arrow in her fingers while Alex pursued a creeper with her sword. "What is someone of your kind doing instead of worshipping the Ender Dragon? Actually living a life with an individual identity and not serving an evil dragon like she's supposed to?"
          "I didn't mean it like that! I just wanted to know who you were and why you're here at this time of night. How old are you?" I meant to leave that last part off.
          "Alex told me there were seven Netherfield sisters, not six. She said you claimed the sixth as your own, that her name is Caitlin, and that she is a music teacher.... I'm not sure. I'm fifteen years old if that helps. I only trust this kid out of sheer desperation, so I hope what she says is true." Alex stood eagerly at Emmeline's side and wrote something down on another sheet. Alex's words were true. However, I didn't want to wake Caitlin to introduce her to some random girl that claimed to be her sister. On the other hand, although Emmeline and Alex could fare well without me, I kept them close by. There are worse things than mobs in life and I didn't want either girl to fall victim to them.