The Award (Steve)

I want blood.

Having been seeing red for the past few days, I went on a sword fighting spree the night before, ended up getting ten iron ingots and five pairs of dented gold boots from it, and failed to sleep properly. I sat down to a Skype meeting about yet another academic award. (Really?)

         "This award," our principal declared, "is different from all other awards." He says that about every award, but it's all the same. Who's in twenty different activities? Who has a solid 9999.0 unweighted GPA? Who can put up the veneer and not let it crack at all costs? "This is the Steve award and it is to be given to two students who displays true heroism: one in high school and one in middle school." The criteria likely go against everything I stand for; the award's probably going to go to some contest combat kid. "Our middle school candidates are Adrian Roth and Estelle Messina and our high school candidates are Ayako Miyazawa and Adrienne Weiss. Please decide between the two candidates one at a time and we'll go from department to department starting with English and ending with fine arts."

I nearly spit my coffee out. I asked why she qualified for the award. The others all had something positive to say about her, but I saw no semblance of heroism in what they said. It was all the same 9999.0 unweighted GPA stuff. Like a coward would, she probably cheated in half of those classes. I overhear stuff about using Slader to do homework in all the time from the band, so it's pretty likely that the orchestra does it too.

My blood boiled as the other teachers practically sang praises to Adrienne. She had them all under her thumb, her cowardly, switchblade-pulling thumb. After the choir director said she had to go with Adrienne because of she had some sort of beef with Ayako, I took a deep breath and told them why Ayako should receive the award. I know next to nothing about Ayako apart from the fact that she plays second clarinet in band, but I did see a similar-looking girl posting lists of suicide hotlines in the halls.

When I said that Ayako should receive the award, the other teachers stared at me as if I had suddenly switched to Chinese. They all told me how great Adrienne was and how she had the Code of Honorable Combat memorized. (How ironic.) At this point, I had a choice. Do I show them the switchblade or do I not? Although I was tempted to expose the Adrienne behind the charming girl everyone else knew, I believe in dealing with disciplinary issues personally and privately, so I just praised Ayako's initiative instead.

         

Fair and Foul (Mark)

          "What kind of flimsy sophistry does Respect Ability Minecraft believe in? I mean, the #Caitgate tag is trending and its idiot supporters keep trying to justify the organization's driving Caitlin into suicide." Across from me, Landon sipped his espresso. I wondered how he could stomach the stuff without adding any cream. 

          "In this world, fair is foul and foul is fair." I will never understand why some people insist that they're right simply because they claim to support a certain group of people and then end up not doing it. 

          "And it's a fair and foul day today." 

          "How so?"

          "Excuse me." Landon left in a hurry. Judging by the placement of his fork and knife, I knew he would return soon. Though we had little to discuss, I was glad to talk to him. I checked my phone notifications. Steve tweeted a few things. The first one caught my eye, so I read it. 

Turns out I'm bi. Funny thing is, high school me seemed to be as straight as a ruler. #bisexual #lol #lgbt #what #wow (rainbow flag spam)

Ranging from "Oh, cool. Me too," to various biphobic comments about gay erasure to quotes about rape statistics, the responses were a mixed bag. My only concern is that Steve and every person who has ever made eye contact with him will get harrassed by TMZ "reporters". I read the Caitgate tag.

@SteveDoesTrumpet You're a homophobic ableist. That's why you side with Caitlin in #caitgate. 

@respectabilityminecraft Maybe I'd support you if you weren't responsible for her suicide. #caitgate 

@SteveDoesTrumpet She brought it on herself.

@respectabilityminecraft Then why did so many people troll the live Twitter feed during this interview? (link to the video)

@SteveDoesTrumpet Because she was weak. 

@respectabilityminecraft Then why didn't you stick to your motto, "Empowerment for All Disabled", and, I don't know, empower Caitlin?

@SteveDoesTrumpet Because she was human passing.

@respectabilityminecraft #TeamCaitlinFTW

Landon returned, took a seat, and downed the rest of his second espresso. He ordered a third and, this time, he added cream. 

         "I have a crush on Steve." Whoa. I did not see that coming. 

         "Who doesn't?" I'm sure a lot of people were pining after Steve, but most of them just wanted the secondhand glory. Landon's earnestness indicated that he wasn't after glory.

         "What should I do? It seems so inappropriate that I have romantic feelings in these circumstances. I mean, I chickened out the last time I tried to say something."

         "Just ask him again." As you can tell, I'm terrible at relationship advice.

         "And humiliate myself? No thanks."

         "Give it a chance. He might feel the same way about you."

Getting Her Back (Jordan)

It was 9:00 AM. Alex hadn't eaten breakfast yet, which was odd considering that she was usually hungry at all hours of the day. I've been calling everywhere hoping to find another vocal teacher for her, but everyone who's good is booked to the gills and everyone who's available is someone I would not let Alex within ten chunks of.

I tried calling her down. She wouldn't come. That means one of two things: She's trying my patience or she's ill. I guessed that it was the former. I went to her room where she lay with her eyes open and her blanket wrapped tightly around her body. Alex only does that when she's sick, which was a sign that something was really wrong. I tried to touch her, but she retracted. Alex refused contact only one other time in her life and that was when a witch hit her in the chest with a splash potion of pain.
         "Is everything okay?" Alex didn't answer. Something was really up. I offered a roll. She didn't take it. "Tu es malade?"
         "Non."
         "Come down and get something to eat. I made brioche."
         "Je n'ai pas faim." Refusing fresh brioche? For breakfast? Something was very very wrong. I got a plate of rolls, some butter, and some jellies and left it for Alex to nibble on if her appetite returned.

I went back to working on my newest repair project: a regalia. A regalia is a sword that can turn from human to sword on command. This was obviously from another universe because the only best witches can do is make iron golems that turn into iron swords. And that's only the best witches who can do that.
       
Liz, said regalia, was with Dr. Lai at the moment to make sure nothing else was wrong. Having heard much positive feedback about his practice, I took her there. Aside, as far as I know, from a headache, some minor scrapes, and an intense bread craving, there were few complaints in the human department. The sword department, however, was another story. Liz was full of dents, rusted badly in one area, and covered in old blood stains. I don't know much else about her owner, but I know they've had a few nasty run-ins with some savory characters.

Mindcrack is going to get a piece of my mind. I've pulled Alex out for good and will re-enroll her if things improve, but for now, I'm just working on getting her back.

A True Hero (Steve)

Help. Me.

No one did vibrato in the violin section. We were testing over Kokoro, our one performance number, because I sensed that the chair placement was way off. One of the seconds has the best bow control of anyone I've seen in this ensemble and the concertmaster has horrible intonation. Our cellists clearly had no idea what they were doing. Surprisingly, our violas were doing just fine. This arrangement of Kokoro featured the violas, which masked the fact that our violins' intonation was comparable to creeper dung.

I was about done with the first violins. Though I've haven't decided on a concertmaster yet, I had a few likely candidates: Kaitlyn Berg, Maxwell Cox, and Aliyah Zhu. All of them were well-qualified, but, seeing that I'm a concertmaster myself, none of them have what it truly takes. Aliyah's heart is with her flute in band, which was good, but why was she in the orchestra and not doing other flute stuff? Maxwell is busy with STEM and Kaitlyn is just plain mean-spirited. I could see her across from me with that saccharine smile of hers. However, the moment someone finished a test, she would start whispering comments to her stand partner, Adrienne. I overheard the name Lisette and something about yanking hair.

That brought me to the second violins. I tested until I saw a Lisette. There weren't many Lisettes in the world, let alone at Mindcrack, so I could only assume that this was who Kaitlyn and Adrienne were talking about. Lisette raised her bow and played her part almost perfectly. After giving her the music for the first part and telling her to play the solo, she soared. Something about the way she played transcended everything else I've heard so far and then the music stopped. I came back down from my musical high to see that Lisette was crying and not from the beauty of what she just played.

Kaitlyn snickered at Lisette's pain. I completely lost it. I just sent her out of the room and gave her a zero on her playing test. If there's one thing I do not take kindly to in the music world, it's sabotage. Music is about putting on your best show, not ruining someone else's. Being rather concerned, I pulled Lisette aside for a bit. She got out of her wheelchair and walked over to me. She had an odd gait, but it seemed to do the job for Lisette. I lowered the volume on my device to something barely above a whisper.
          "What happened?"
          "Someone yanked my hair while I was playing and now my wheelchair doesn't work. The wheels won't move." She hobbled over accordingly and showed me the problem at hand. The wheels would not budge. I looked at the axles. They were jammed with gum.
          "What is that?" I pointed to her arm.
          "Oh. I felt something stab me." She wiped the blood away, but it came back just as fast and ran down her arm. That wasn't a something. That was a someone. It was a switchblade wound. Switchblades are the weapons of cowards. They are rarely, if ever, used in any sort of honorable combat. Being largely tied to criminal activities, switchblades are banned on a variety of campuses. Mindcrack doesn't ban switchblades, only chemical and biological weapons. I made note of the other seconds and I was done with the tests. I had a good idea of what the violas, cellos, and basses would do.

Because I didn't want to risk her being around Adrienne any longer, I escorted Lisette to the nurse myself. She had red coppery hair the color of acacia wood and silver eyes. They almost looked unnatural, but they weren't piercing like gray eyes normally are. Instead, they looked especially soft and innocent. It wouldn't be an issue because the bell was four minutes from ringing.

About halfway down the hall, Lisette's wheelchair started falling apart. I looked more closely at it. A few key screws had been loosened with, from what I could tell, a bloody switchblade. Lisette handed me something and, instantly, my suspicions were confirmed. It was indeed a switchblade. It had no name, but it did have a poppy engraving. I'm not well-versed in engravings on weapons, but, generally, those with poppy engravings are not to be trusted.

I asked Lisette if she would be okay walking to the nurse. After she shook her head, I ended up carrying her to the nurse. I dropped her off and took the switchblade to the office.

After describing the incident for a bit, which was difficult because my device decided to rage quit on me in the middle of a sentence. How convenient.

When school got out, I got a notice in my inbox saying that the school would shut down for a week starting tomorrow. I saw Lisette with a cane and she thanked me for carrying her to the nurse's office.
          "Not many people would do that. You're a true hero."
          "Why not?"
          "Well, it's because of my brother." She looked down shamefacedly. "You know about the Havencraft High School shooting?" I did, as a matter of fact. My school was shut down for the day because the shooter was in the area. "It was my brother who did that and I keep getting harassed because of it."
           "And his name?"
           "Landon LaCoste."  

Almost Out (Play Style)

(A/N: I'm trying a new writing style.) I hope you like it.

Scene 1:

Enter Landon, and a server. They are at a café.

Landon: Two coffees, please, with milk and sugar on the side. *smells something delicious* Can I get a basket of that? It smells divine!

Server: Absolutely, sir. *Exit server*

Landon: Where is he? *checks phone, setting it down*

*Enter server and Steve*

Steve: I am sorry. I was with Alice in the hospital.

Landon: How's she doing?

Steve: Pretty well. She's lost a lot of hair, but she's still putting up a fight.

Landon: That's good. *Landon starts nervously stuffing his face with pain au chocolat.*

Steve: *cocks his head confusedly after preparing a coffee for himself* Are you hungry?

Landon: Yes. I...I'm always hungry!

Steve: *takes a pain au chocolat* Is something wrong? *sips coffee*

Landon: *runs offstage in a fit of nervous impulsivity*

*Exit Landon, with Steve following quizzically after he leaves*

(A/N: To decide what happens next, comment A or B).

A Secret Admirer (Landon)

Since I had little else to do or desire to do anything, I let autoplay run. After some random Teto song I didn't know, I heard the familiar sound of bells, then the violin came in and Rin's vocals hit me like an arrow to the heart. The robotic sound of Rin's voice alternated with the violin. Oddly enough, robotic as it was, the voice sounded like Caitlin. I started singing the Len part. There was nothing I wouldn't give to sing with her again, to harmonize like that one day we performed Kokoro singing over the brass band.

I heard Regret Message play next. I remembered when Caitlin was nothing more than an impedance to me, just another person to wait for. I just thought she was in the way of my goals, but little did I know that she would be our flagship member in a matter of months. From her first day, she embodied a humility that no one else even seemed to understand. She was a miracle, the best thing that ever happened to me.

The Disappearance of Hatsune Miku came on and, at this point, I couldn't even look at the subs as they blurred before my eyes. No, no. I couldn't cry. There was no way I'd let those tears out of my eyes. Get back in there. Focus on the words. Look at those cute little dance moves Miku does while she sings her nonexistent soul out. Her costumes are cute, aren't they?

Now even singing is the practice of breaking my body.

I paused the video and my eyes, having a mind of their own, released the flood of tears building up behind them. It's been a while since I've cried honestly. Caitlin was my confidante, my ally, my friend. Now that she was gone, I was alone. I had no one. She was torn to shreds by thousands of petty, selfish people all in the name of some flimsy narrative. After washing my face, I decided to take a walk.

Someone tried to punch me in the face. That was nothing new, but this woman was especially dogged. Trying to keep her off my tail, I kept walking. She still kept trying to get a blow at me. I couldn't fight back because that could be used against me. I could only keep walking, so I did just that. I took some random turns and, thinking I could get her away from me by going to a cafe to order something, she struck me in the nose. Blood started to gush out at an alarming rate, so I looked around. I found napkins and started pulling them out to stop the bleeding. She took another swing and hit me in the same location, causing more blood to come out. I begged for her to stop and, after she ran away, I just sat where I was awkwardly holding a wad of bloody napkins to my face. Someone who looked to be the owner approached me.
          "Oh, thank goodness. She went that way." I pointed in the woman's direction.
          "She? That person is a transgender man."
          "Well, he went that way after punching me in the face. " I didn't have time to think about the person's gender, just my life.
          "Well, I'm not having transphobes in my establishment, especially if you're the Havencraft shooter." Not wanting to fight, I left. I could feel the judgmental stares of the patrons on me as I left.

I got stopped in the street. Not thinking, I screamed "What do you want?" and raised my fists. The face was familiar, but I couldn't recall the name. He...or she, probably he, placed an envelope in my hands. It was sealed with a glittery sticker. I opened it.

Happy Valentine's day, you edgelord. ;)

Trying to find out who the card was from, I read the back, which read "From a secret admirer" in the same font: Times New Roman. Who would pull a grade school stunt like this, especially for me? Who would have known that I would be walking out of the cafe?

Who could it have been from? My first thought was Steve, but I didn't think he was attracted to men. Even if he was, he wouldn't be thinking about romance. He had too much on his hands between Caitlin's suicide and the new position as orchestra director.

One Day (Steve)

I can't live with myself anymore.

It was my fault. How could I have been so oblivious? I should have held her a little tighter at night. I should have let her room with me the night before what was supposed to be our wedding. I should have acted faster. I should have complimented her more often. With Caitlin, I had something I never had before and, now that she's gone, I don't know if I can ever have that again.

The pillow she used still smelled like her strawberry 3-in-1. She told me to pick it up at the store once and I had no clue why, but she's sworn by it ever since. The sweet scent reminded me of, well, everything about her. I found her box of reeds and her clarinet. Sometimes, I thought Caitlin loved her clarinet more than she loved me. Lost in thought, I bumped into a music stand and a pile of sheet music came crashing to the floor.

I picked up the pages and glanced at them. They were mostly clarinet etudes, but among them was an arrangement of World's End Dancehall for a trumpet/horn duet and a backing ensemble. I went on Twitter to distract myself, but what I saw disturbed me to my core.

Disability community, lend me your ears! We will wipe this stain "Caitlin Netherfield" from us with enough effort. 

Let her know what harm she has done to us! 

That's one less enemy we have to worry about.

We have victory! 

At the last one, I ran to the bathroom and vomited. These people had no idea what I--and many others--had lost through Caitlin's suicide. I ran my fingers over the details on the wedding dress, beautiful and understated like she was. It's often said that one never knows what they have until it's gone. What did these people have in Caitlin that is now gone? I went back to distracting myself since nothing in the fridge looked appetizing.

She may have been a stain, but you reek of cowardice. 

Hmm. What's this? *sniff sniff* It smells like a totally unjustified victim complex.

Way to promote empowerment for ALL disabled by driving one of your own into suicide and calling them an "enemy". *applause*

You fought a useless battle that shouldn't have been a thing in the first place.

Leave it to Mark to come up with the best comebacks. I wished I had that way with words, not only the effortless cadence of his speech, but his cleverness. I could not have thought of something quite so witty, especially under emotional duress.

Ever since Caitlin's death, the suicide plague at Mindcrack got worse and worse. Alex told me that, on one occasion, she found the bodies of several students littering the bathroom floor. She said they were mostly high schoolers. That told me several things: 1) SAT and ACT tests are coming. 2)  The students were most likely AP students. 3) They were probably juniors or seniors. 4) They thought that no one would care or notice if they were gone. 5) Something was off with regards to their mental health. Though I didn't really want to do anything, I went to Mindcrack to lead my students. In these tough times, they needed me more than ever.

Having survived an attempt previously, I found leading my band difficult. Strange dizzy feelings started washing over me, almost as if my head were vibrating. My middle schoolers were not getting the hang of balance, so I explained the pyramid of sound to them. Their pyramid of sound sounded more like a step pyramid, so I had tenor saxes to play out a bit more, the bass clarinet back off a bit, and flutes to fix some tuning issues. I felt very sick and shaky, probably because I never had breakfast, but I continued. The clarinets played, although one of them had a broken reed, they sounded fairly decent.

The trumpets came in with some fracking, but that was to be expected from young players learning what high notes are. I led them in some lip slurs and ignored my pounding headache. To add to that, percussion came in too loud. I had our snare drum player play with a lower stick height for now, mainly to preserve my sanity.

During the break, I went to pick up information on online days. I found a handwritten note stamped "Urgent" and sealed with a glitter sticker. I opened it to find this inside:

I can't take this anymore. I need you to take over the orchestra. 

How much could one day throw at me?